Whitlow Jis watched as Henry casually tore up the land deed. The young man's face flushed with anger.
'What kind of noble is this? How can he have no manners at all? Even if the deed is fake, you can't just tear it up like that?!'
Henry tilted his head back slightly, looking down on the horseless young man. "State your name, Exile," he said.
The young man was extremely displeased looking up at the lofty Henry. The word "Exile" was like a thorn in his heart.
But seeing the dark mass of armored soldiers and the restless Grassland Warriors opposite him, he could only force himself to calm down.
Whitlow forced a smile and said, "Whitlow Jis, a noble from the west."
"Oh, from the west? Shouldn't you be fishing on the coast? What are you doing here on our eastern grasslands?"
Whitlow raised his head, took off his helmet, and spoke in an almost pleading tone, "As a fellow noble, now that I have introduced myself, you should reciprocate with your own identity."
