"However, Marquis Cross used military contraband, and he will face the judgment he deserves!"
Her words were final, signaling the end of the negotiations.
Fulina's words were as hard as stone; no one could change her mind.
Not even the King could, let alone a marquis and a garrison commander.
Lancelot, seemingly aware he couldn't change his disciple's mind, departed with a worried expression. Marquis Cross, in contrast, had grown calm and was escorted by the guards back to the Water Prison.
The meeting ended on a sour note—for the Southern Territory's side, at least. The Northern Nobles, on the other hand, could hardly conceal their smiles.
After all, with Damon and the South's main army having been off the radar for some time, everyone had been on edge. Now, knowing their enemy was bogged down in the quagmire of White Bone Fortress and unable to escape, a great weight was lifted from their shoulders.
