"Hey, new kid, head down!" A dull roar came, a voice that seemed to be angry but not angry, like a mouthful of thick phlegm stuck in his throat. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 info Kenny buried his head a little. "Look!" the voice came from behind him again, even angrier than before, "That's the Ruler! If you don't want to lose your head, bury that dog's head a little lower!" The one who spoke spat angrily, "Damn, how could the Marquis of Quanti find such a bastard like you!"

Suddenly, there was a roar of trumpets outside the gate, and the neat and long tail sound seemed to come from some far away, completely covering the disgusting shouts behind him, followed by a chorus of kneeling sounds.

Kenny looked around blankly and saw that everyone was on one knee almost at the same time, with their heads buried low. Among them, there was no shortage of knights with titles and heavy positions, knights with swords and armor, musicians, singers, servants, cooks, and, of course, the young squire standing beside him, who, unlike the others, was the only one standing.

In an instant, Kenny's tall height is highlighted, especially in the neat crowd.

A pair of hands reached out, grabbed the corner of the coarse cloth, and pulled him to the ground. "You don't want to die?" the man who pulled him scolded softly.

Kenny nodded in acknowledgement, then followed the man's posture and buried his head lower than his knees. But after only a short moment, he quietly raised his head again, and at the same time, the sound of neat steps was heard.

Through the countless heads, Kenny saw a group of knights in silver armor through the cracks, roughly estimated to be twenty in number. The intricately carved silver armor shone through the light outside the door, and the matching barrel-like helmets enveloped the knights' heads entirely, making it difficult for others to catch a glimpse of their proud eyes from the front.

The sound of sonorous and powerful footsteps lingered in the huge restaurant for a long time. The twenty knights marched in two columns on either side of the main road, leaving a narrow path for one person in between, where Kenny saw the legendary Assyrian king, a boy of about five years old, wearing a sickle crown and a Assyrian wool coat with green fleece and white trim, and fitted cashmere trousers embroidered with a sickle pattern, the cuffs of which had been carefully tucked into the deerskin boots by the old nurse.

When he walked in, all the knights bowed their heads. In the crowd, the kid pretended to be a five-year-old child's solemnity, and seemed to have long been accustomed to the huddle of thousands of people.

And behind him, it seems to be the legendary ruling king, Duke White.

Kenny could tell it at a glance. His clothes were more luxurious than those of the little king, and apart from the magnificent robe studded with rare jewels, the fellow even wore the same sickle crown as the little king, and what was even more strange was that the emerald on the crown was far larger and more dazzling than the little king's.

He walked behind the little king, with a smile on his face, and after waving to the crowd in the thousand-seat restaurant, he strode on the throne and sat down next to the little king.

Honestly, Kenny didn't like this occasion, and maybe he didn't like it before he lost his memory.

The Assyrian castle's thousand-seat dining room was steaming and filled with the smell of grilled meats, onions, fried fish, sausages, fruits and vegetables, and freshly baked bread, but Kenny didn't bother to pay attention to the delicacies on the table, let alone the food that was touched by anyone around, because White on the throne was making an impassioned tirade.

Of course, Kenny's mind is not in those rhetoric, he is more concerned about the whereabouts of the white dove, but his identity at the moment is the attendant of the Marquis of Quanti, and the attendant has to sit with the attendants, so his position is almost close to the door of the restaurant, and at the moment in the thousand-person restaurant, at least seven hundred people are crammed in, until the young attendants around him raise their glasses, he did not find the white dove.

After the first glass of wine, the musicians began to pluck the Assyrian harp, the bards sang aloud, and the fireplaces around them burned brightly, and the minutes passed in the tumult of changing glasses and talking drunk.

The cheerful group of attendants around him began to encourage Kenny, who kept pouring wine into his stomach, and with each dry drink, they immediately filled him with another glass.

This may be why Kenny hates this kind of occasion, but he has to mingle with the group, and when he meets Quanti Canverd, the middle-aged marquis tells him only one thing: don't refuse to be toasted, it will make you look out of place in Assyria.

"Your Excellency," said the attendant who poured Kenny's wine in a sudden whisper, "in a little while, it will be the Gift Session, and the Marquis of Quanti will pay a salute to White in the second, and when the 'Gift' comes in, the plan will begin....."

Kenny looked up.

"Don't speak," the man opened his mouth again, "and it is rude for the old squire to speak when he pours the wine for the newcomer. He lifted the flask slightly, trying to give himself a moment to speak. "No one knows how many White people are around, but your appearance and height are impressive enough, and half an hour ago, I swore to the Marquis of Quanti that if the plan fails, I will keep you alive and get out of this hellish place!"

Kenny nodded, smiled back at the man, then picked up a roasted onion dripping with brown gravy from his plate, took a bite of it, making a crunchy click, and chewed as he watched the old squire, with its short, jagged face, sit down on the long table behind him.

When the contents of the mouth are swallowed, the restaurant gradually quiets down.

Kenny turned his head and saw a nobleman holding a gift box on the throne in the distance presenting a birthday gift to the Archon, and some people around him gradually stood up, some even stood on the table, and they all seemed to want to see what kind of birthday gift the nobleman had given the Archon.

Obviously, Kenny doesn't care about all this, he cares more about where the white dove is. But when he did see her, he swore that it was the most beautiful white dove he had ever seen.

Just after the nobles had finished offering White a birthday gift, the singing and instrumental music that had been stopped suddenly sounded again, and as the door gradually opened, four dancing girls, dressed only in light clothes and covering their faces with veils, walked slowly towards the throne with light cloud steps.

They stood beneath the throne and danced gracefully, White rose from his seat, and the Marquis of Quanti, who was next to the throne, also stood up. He smiled and nodded at the Archon, suggesting that this was his gift.

White smiled back, and when the singing and instrumental music became cheerful and the four dancers danced, the whole banquet was destined to be pushed to a new climax.

Amid the jubilation of the people, the white dove stared through the light veil at the smiling White on the throne. And just a hundred paces away from those blue eyes, Kenny was also looking at her as she sang and danced slowly.

The dance music ended, the applause thundered, and the whole restaurant was boiling. At this moment, the white dove took off its veil, and time seemed to freeze in this second.

Then, a roar resounded through the restaurant, and it was the wrath of the ruling king White. Kenny saw twenty knights unsheathed broadswords, the tumult of the chaotic crowd, White's frosty face, and the sharp silhouette of the white dove.