"My name is Shire Haines, and some call me the Flower Knight."
"Honorable Master of Molten Iron, I hope to have a good conversation with you."
Under the deep curtain of night, atop the rugged mountains, the gigantic head of the Red Iron Dragon, covered in cold and hard scale armor, tilted slightly, its vertical pupils silently gazing at the Flower Knight who walked up to it.
He heard the proposal to have a conversation.
There was no trace of emotion on his fearsome visage, his gaze steady and unchanged.
When the tax collectors of the Albert Family descended upon the Molten Iron Tribe like wolves, attempting to forcibly levy exorbitant taxes through force, was there even a single knight proclaiming to be the embodiment of order and justice who stood out, representing those of the Molten Iron Tribe perceived as monsters, to negotiate with the exalted Albert Family?
At that time, there were only cold blades and greed-driven demands.
