Sehiris bowed her head, her hands tightly gripping her scepter, carefully and cautiously bowed her head, and said, "Yes, my master. ”

The black-haired man nodded slightly, he casually crossed a Erlang leg, and hidden under his lazy expression, his eyes were carefully observing the female patriarchs in the audience.

The first to bear the brunt was the Barcelo mistress closest to her, she bent down to make a respectful gesture, but because of the slight hanging of her head, he could not see the other party's expressions clearly, but the two women dressed as high priests behind her, with a faint look of disgriet on their faces; And the second-ranked Evante housemother, the gloom on her face was far better than the first two, although she didn't look at each other angrily, but given that her son Serafi, who was also the chief of their family's martial arts, died at his own hands, the other party's attitude The black-haired man could still understand it somewhat.

As for the other family men, they only passed by at a glance, but most of them were not far from his expectations. The man smiled softly, and he beckoned for everyone to take their seats.

However, the audience was still quiet, and everyone's eyes were still focused on him, although the man didn't seem too nervous, but he hadn't experienced the meetings of the Drow elves before, and he thought that it would be better for him to analyze the situation on the field first, so the discussion at the beginning should be carried out according to their inertia.

The black-haired man propped his hand on the handle and supported his cheeks, he waved his hand, still in a lazy tone, "How is it usually, how is it now, you discuss yours first." Intentionally or unintentionally, he unbuttoned the two buttons on his chest, and the spider-shaped pendant appeared in everyone's field of vision.

Everyone looked at each other, and now it was a different time, the throne that had been high above was empty, and such a large meeting was basically presided over by the patriarch of the first family, a practice that the Barcelo Mother had maintained for more than 60 years, and which would continue to continue.

Zhuge still had the consciousness of being an outsider, he coughed lightly, and drew everyone's attention to himself: "What? Is there nothing to say, or is the authority of Goddess Rose in your hearts not enough?" He raised his hand and gestured a thumbs up behind him.

The black-haired man looked at the patriarchs in the audience, and it happened that the eyes of the Barcelo mistress were on him, he nodded, smiled to meet her gaze, and reminded the other party of the attitude he needed to express at this moment: "It seems that Barcelo Qing has something to say, but please pay attention to the words, the goddess is looking at you." ”

Since the appearance of the dark-haired man on the throne, the drow matriarchs have lost contact with the goddess Rose, and they live in fear of when doom will befall their family. The predominance of motherhood is based on the pleasure of Rose, as almost all priests are made up of women - this is due to the preference of Rose, and men are either warriors or sorcerers, and they are not as dependent on the goddess as they are themselves.

The Barcelo mistress looked back a little helplessly, she didn't know what kind of hole cards the lazy black-haired man on the throne had - maybe not, maybe more, but the goddess Rose had not contacted her for a long time, which meant that it was the other party who had the initiative at the moment, "If there is any problem, talk about it, the divine envoy will have a clear understanding." ”

With her back to the black-haired man who seemed to be in her early twenties, Barceló's mother smiled, and she did a little bit of "landlord friendship", which could be regarded as a kind of admonition to him.

"Your Highness. The drow woman facing him at the round table stood up and nodded, Zhuge knew through Sehiris that the other party was Edith Shelley, ranked in the tenth family, the other party was angry, but there was no anger in his eyes, and "Jura Yiis" was called by the name of the eighth family's mother.

"What do you mean, yesterday's hunt, your men took my prey!" said the Shelley hostess, pointing at the other man.

"I should have asked you what you mean. The other party changed his posture, and the fragrant skin that was revealed from time to time didn't know who it was for, "The Lord God stipulates that the territory is yours?"

"Besides, you say it's my person, so what about the evidence?" Iys was unhurried, and judging by the reactions of the people around him, he seemed to have long been accustomed to such quarrels.

"Proof?" said the follower behind her, at the signal of Mistress Shelley, handed over an object wrapped in heavy linen, and threw it in front of her, "I want to see if you have anything else to say." ”

Mistress Iis opened the package, revealing a coat of arms carved into it in the shape of a family crest. She looked at it, smiled and said, "I don't know where you picked it up, how can you prove that you did it at my behest?"

"Oh?" Shelley's eyes turned to the black-haired man on the throne, the apparent etiquette still needed to be in place, and after seeing the other nod, she clapped her hands, and the follower walked out, and soon brought in a drow male, who was tightly bound by the tough hemp rope and unable to move.

With a triumphant smile, the matriarch of the tenth family said, "Then this one of you, the patriarch, should not be unrecognizable." Iys dodged the other party's eyes, but Shelley's mother pressed forward step by step, "Yura, there are all the human and material evidence, what else do you have to say?"

"And what do you want?" said Iys, looking at the male drow, disgusted.

"As usual. Mistress Shelley's face looked excited, she turned her gaze to Mistress Barceló, and said as if asking for help, "I am more generous to pay compensation for the land cession, or the transfer of servants, Yura, you can choose one yourself." ”

"You've done a dishonorable job, Yura. Mistress Barcelo said earnestly, "But God has made it to your lordship, and it is up to him to decide." ”

The eyes of the audience were fixed on him, and the black-haired man chuckled, and instead of speaking, he slowly walked down the steps. He walked past the Barcelo mistress and did not look at the other, but his eyes were fixed on the young man who had been tied up with flowers, because in the other man's eyes he saw something different.

"What's your name, young man?" was stunned by the "oracle's" question, and the young man bowed his head in fear, but his tone was holding on to something.

"Trist, Trist Durden. ”