"I thought no one from the West Coast was coming this year. After all, that place of yours—no resources, no heritage, what kind of decent Wizards could you possibly produce?"
The few people behind him let out low chuckles.
Leon's face went ashen.
"You—"
"What about me?" The blond man cut him off, his tone light and airy. "Did I say anything wrong?"
He lifted his hand, his fingertip lightly tapping the air.
"The world only knows that Appalachia has the East Coast, has the Seville Empire, has Lord Raphael presiding over the Mechanical Wizard Civilization. As for the West Coast—" his tail note rose slightly, "Black Sail? Silver Hand? Thorn Holy Tower? Doomsday Bell?"
He rattled off four names in one breath, then gave a slight shake of his head, the motion as elegant as if he were shooing away a fly.
"To put it bluntly, those organizations of yours placed on the Golden Continent wouldn't even make the cut as second-rate."
