Fang Zhen's gaze fell on the man behind Mayor Ande.
The man who had shouted so shrilly was about forty years old. He was taller than Ande, though only by a few centimeters, and had a thin build. His clothes weren't the sort typically worn by the townsfolk; they were reinforced with leather armor at the elbows, knees, and groin.
He had a fierce-looking face with a sharp nose and shifty eyes that gave him a cunning air. He didn't look very honest, and his expression was a perpetually unnatural, forced smile.
A sheathed short sword also hung at his waist.
Fang Zhen sized the man up.
When the man felt Fang Zhen's gaze upon him, he took a provocative step forward.
"You're lying. You're a liar, not some 'sir'," the man repeated, his voice shrill.
Fang Zhen raised an eyebrow.
"State your name. Who are you? And on what grounds do you question me?" Fang Zhen asked.
Fang Zhen's tone remained perfectly calm; he wasn't speaking like an accused man trying to defend himself.
