Chapter 367 - 366. Peace Treaty (3)
The thick stormy clouds overhead loomed, their edges dark and restless, as if they too were hesitating before the declaration of peace. The wind howled through the city, twisting through the grand banners that lined the palace walls and making them snap in protest. The golden light of the lanterns flickered against the encroaching gray, creating an eerie contrast—hope standing stubbornly against the tempest.
It was almost ironic. A peace treaty was being signed, yet nature itself seemed unwilling to grant them a day of calm. Perhaps it was a warning. Or perhaps it was simply a reminder that peace, like storms, could not be controlled by mere mortals.
The murmurs of the crowd picked up as Eric stepped forward. Unlike Arian, who had spoken with the steady authority of a Crown Prince, Eric’s presence was different—calm yet intense, as if he carried the weight of something far greater than his own rank.
"That’s the Prince of Sestia, right?"
"He looks quite young."
"He doesn’t seem as strong as the rumors say."
Not all voices were kind. Whispers carried words of doubt, some dismissive, some outright hostile. War had forged hatred between their nations, and many still clung to their suspicions. But Eric stood unwavering, his golden eyes sharp, his posture relaxed but composed.
I listened in silence, my gaze fixed on him. He wasn’t a man who sought attention, nor did he thrive on the validation of others. That was what made him different. And as he opened his mouth to speak, the wind stilled, as if even the storm had paused to listen.
"People of Denril," he started.
"I am Eric Delle Ferin Marismus." He introduced himself.
The crowd grew quieter and started paying attention.