Don't confiscate my citizenship

The morning sun slants on the sea, shining with a silver halo.

Every time the ship paddles through the waves, the halo will sway slightly, as if the sea is breathing.

The chill brought by the sea breeze cannot be eliminated even in the sunshine.

On the second floor of this large-scale merchant ship heading to Lilom City, the wooden furniture and decorations all looked exquisite and warm. Viscount Francis sat at the dining table, with a brocade tablecloth spread in front of him and silver tableware lined up.

The middle-aged man wore a dark gray suit with the family crest embroidered with gold thread. Although his eyes looked a little tired, his meticulous dress still looked solemn and elegant, and some traces of having used a sword could be seen on his slender fingers.

He gently forked a piece of smoked salmon and put it into his mouth, unconsciously keeping his brows slightly furrowed while chewing.

But it's not because the chef didn't perform well today.

Sigh, I'm afraid it will be difficult for the Imperial Capital to handle this year.

He sighed in his heart, but did not say it out loud.

The Protos Empire had seventeen provinces.

Lilomu City is the most remote in the already poor Southwest Province. If it were not along the sea, it would almost become a fortress city-state in the forest.

Nowadays, the Protos Empire is in an extremely dangerous situation with the countries headed by the Kingdom of Estherland in the northwest of the empire. A full-scale war on the northern continent may break out at any time, and there is only one opportunity left to ignite this century-old fire.

Although for cities like them in the southern rear area, the war will not spread here, but once a war breaks out, issues such as military recruitment, taxation, etc. may become an unbearable burden for a small and remote territory like theirs.

Not only that, the most ridiculous decision made by the empire now is to recruit the Church of Resurrection.

This behavior of seeking the skin of a tiger may be seen by those with great power in the imperial capital as a clever way to control the tiger on their side, and indeed it has caused great terror and deterrence to the countries in the north, but for the civilians, it is undoubtedly a disaster.

Even in border cities like theirs, people feel panic because of the Resurrectionists on the streets.

At this time, a knock on the door interrupted Viscount Francis' thinking.

Do you have any plans this morning?

As Viscount Francis finished speaking, a young man dressed in command slowly walked in. He was Francis' secretary and his bodyguard.

Lord Viscount, the guest is awake.

The secretary reported calmly.

Francis slowly swallowed the food in his mouth and nodded, Okay, I understand. Prepare some tea and fruits to send to his cabin. I will be there in a moment.

For people who are shipwrecked and may not have eaten for a long time, it would be better to eat some fruits and vegetables and replenish water before eating.

Magical storms have been surging at sea recently, and both passenger and merchant ships in the imperial port have stopped sailing south.

The closer we get to the sea area between the northern and southern continents, the more accidents occur.

Looking at the empire's investigation reports, disaster experts generally believe that two extremely terrifying creatures fought a desperate battle in the southern sea. The unrestrained collision of magic power further intensified the spread of the natural disaster's magic wave.

Okay, my lord.

The secretary bowed slightly and then exited the restaurant.

Not long after, Francis finished his breakfast. He put down the tableware, wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin, straightened his tie, and stood up with his cane.

It was originally just a normal trip to a large eastern port city to visit old friends and do some business, but this time there was an extra episode.

Last night, a violent storm had just raged across the sea, and the huge waves seemed to be trying to swallow their merchant ships again and again, but this was nothing special for them who had experienced wind and waves.

However, a sudden dong-- collision sound broke through the air, clearly penetrated the night, and reached the ears of the crew on the side of the ship.

Experienced crew members can determine the texture of the collision object - wood based on the insignificant sound.

The crew members leaned over and took a look and found that it seemed to be the remains of a piece of ship wood. However, surprisingly, there was a teenager attached to the wood.

This boy, who seemed to be about 17 or 18 years old, was like the darling of fate. He was firmly hung by a piece of driftwood, drifted with the current, and luckily stopped next to their merchant ship.

What was even more gratifying was that the collision just now did not cause any harm to him, as if someone had used force magic to bring him to the side of the ship.

The crew immediately braved the wind and waves to rescue the teenager.

Viscount Francis also issued instructions as soon as possible, instructing the doctors on the ship to quickly treat the injured boy and take care of him to the best of his ability.

The boy's brown hair was as smooth as silk, and his clothes were unique, as if he were a visitor from a distant foreign country.

Logically speaking, unknown people should not be saved.

At this time of day, everyone in the Protos Empire is in danger, and anyone who is not careful will be labeled as a cultist or surrenderer by people with ulterior motives.

But Viscount Francis has always believed in the guidance of the goddess of fate and the principle that good and evil are rewarded. At least he will not harm this young man until he has determined his identity.

Well, if you really can't survive another two years, take Zestila to the Southern Continent. At least there won't be so ridiculous as to label the Church of the Goddess of Destiny as a cult.

Viscount Francis walked to the window, glanced at the rough sea and the unpredictable sea weather today and sighed.

Anyway, his daughter has been prejudiced and discriminated against by Emperor Protos since she was a child because of her demonic characteristics. The worst possible outcome is to give up her current noble status and go to the Southern Continent to start over.

Although it is difficult to find a country in the Southern Continent that treats demons equally, at least it will not be like the Protos Empire where even hiding racial characteristics is punishable by death.

Viscount Francis walked to the door, opened the heavy cabin door, and stepped outside. Several chandeliers burning whale oil hung in the red-carpeted corridor. The flickering light made people feel like they could feel at home even at sea. of warmth.

His steps were steady, but something was always on his mind.

Finally, he came to the guest room and saw the secretary waiting at the door. After a brief exchange and a nod, Viscount Francis knocked on the door.

Please come in.

Hearing the gentle response from inside, Viscount Francis opened the door and walked in.

The bedroom, which is simply decorated but fully furnished, is filled with the smell of sea water and damp wood.

I saw a brown-haired young man sitting next to the bed. He had beautiful emerald green eyes. Not only his left eye was covered with gauze, the bandage was slightly exposed from the cuffs of his black suit, extending from his wrist to his elbow, and then from his collar. Pass through everywhere.

The strength of his magic power is probably only at the first level.

He doesn't look like a battle-hardened warrior with slender skin.

Only his vitality is quite strong, and he managed to save his life even after suffering such a serious fatal injury.

According to the secretary, the brown-haired young man seemed to have a language barrier at first, but he had a translation magic tool card on him and he was soon able to communicate normally.

Although the conversation hadn't started yet, after Viscount Francis looked at him for the first time, he felt that he would not be a bad person.

Because his eyes were clear, he was naturally filled with compassion and thoughts, but none of them were for himself.

Just to see the suffering of all living beings.

That is the gaze of a saint.