Reborn with A Simulation Coin!

"Ah, this question is actually quite simple," Earl Thorne said with an easy smile, his calm demeanor unwavering in the face of the tension filling the room.

As the lords exchanged uncertain glances, Thorne rose from his seat, clapped his hands sharply, and strode to the side of the room. "Rather than explaining it myself," he continued, turning to address the assembly, "I think it's better to let our 'master' explain things to you personally."

'Master?'

A ripple of confusion spread through the room. Lords and knights shifted uneasily in their chairs, their eyes following Thorne's gesture toward the far corner of the hall.

Moments later, a figure emerged from the shadows.

It was a young man, or at least he appeared young. He wore a black robe that draped over his tall, lean frame, the fabric shimmering faintly under the warm lights of the banquet hall. His face, pale and almost lifeless, stood out starkly against his dark attire, as if blood had long since abandoned his veins. His expression was calm, eerily so; and his sharp eyes swept over the gathering with quiet indifference.

He had been standing there all along, unnoticed.

"This," Thorne announced, his tone carrying both pride and gravity, "is the master I mentioned. The man I have summoned to aid us in these troubling times."

The lords exchanged wary glances, their confusion deepening. Harry, sitting near the edge of the table, narrowed his eyes and leaned forward slightly, studying the newcomer.

"A master of what?" one of the knights muttered under his breath.

As if sensing their silent questions, Thorne smiled faintly. "You all come from distinguished families, so I assume your houses have records; ancient knowledge passed down through the generations." His gaze swept across the room, his words heavy with implication.

The room fell silent. Slowly, the expressions of some lords shifted. Harry noticed the subtle tightening of jaws and furrowing of brows, as if pieces of a puzzle were beginning to fall into place.

"Yes," Thorne continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "this man is a wizard."

The word landed like a thunderclap.

"Wizard?"

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, some voices tinged with disbelief, others with curiosity or outright fear. Expressions varied, some thoughtful, some skeptical, and some hostile.

Harry's own expression remained calm, but his mind was racing. 'A wizard?'

He'd heard the word in stories and whispers since arriving in this world. Wizards were beings of legend, wielding powers far beyond mortal comprehension. Unlike knights, who achieved their strength through rigorous training, wizards were said to tap into something primal, something otherworldly.

And yet, despite the tales, Harry had never seen one. Not once. Even Reggie, a well-traveled man, had dismissed wizards as myths. But now, standing before him, was one in the flesh; or so it seemed.

Harry's sharp eyes scrutinized the pale man carefully. 'So they really do exist,' he thought. 'But how powerful is this one?'

Thorne's voice broke his concentration. "Yes, a wizard," the Earl said, his tone now more serious. "His name is Sean, and he comes from the ancient city of Ryan, a place many of you have likely heard of in your family histories. He is here to assist us in dealing with this plague. And make no mistake…" Thorne paused, glancing meaningfully at the lords before him. "This is not an ordinary plague. It is beyond the capability of mortals to resolve."

Sean stepped forward, his black robe flowing behind him as he moved to stand beside Thorne. His face remained stoic as his deep voice filled the room.

"My name is Sean," he began simply. "I have been sent here because the situation you face is no longer one that mere knights or lords can handle. The plague is not a natural phenomenon, it is something darker, something far more dangerous than you realize. And it will not be solved through swords or strength alone."

The room grew colder as his words sank in.

"I have studied the information sent to me," Sean continued, his tone calm and unhurried, "and it is clear that this plague is a product of dark forces; forces that transcend the mortal realm."

"Dark forces?" Harry's mind sharpened, his intrigue growing.

But not everyone shared his curiosity.

From across the hall, the gruff, scarred knight from earlier spoke again, his voice dripping with disdain. "Dark forces? Mortals? Wizards?" He scoffed loudly, crossing his arms. "What nonsense. You come here, pale as a corpse, spouting dramatic words like you're some kind of savior. Tell me, 'master,'" he sneered, "why should 'we' listen to you?"

Sean's gaze shifted to the man, cool and unbothered. "Because if you don't, you'll be dead within weeks," he replied bluntly.

The knight bristled. "You think a man like me fears death? Or your empty threats?"

Sean tilted his head slightly, almost as if amused. "It's not fear I ask of you; it's cooperation. But if you're so eager to test my words, I'm sure the plague will provide you ample opportunity."

The knight glared at him, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the table.

Thorne, sensing the rising tension, interjected smoothly. "Gentlemen, please. This is not the time for hostility. Sean is here because I trust his expertise, and you are here because I trust your strength. Together, we have the means to end this plague and restore order."

Sean's calm voice followed Thorne's. "Your strength will be necessary," he said, his eyes sweeping across the room. "I will not deny that. But understand this: strength alone is insufficient. If you act rashly, without thought, you'll not only fail but doom everyone around you."

He folded his hands behind his back, his expression indifferent yet commanding. "I do not ask for blind obedience. But if you value your lives, I suggest you heed my advice. And for those who prove themselves…" His lips curled into a faint smile. "I can offer rewards beyond anything you've ever dreamed of."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Some lords were still skeptical, but the mention of rewards had caught their attention.

Harry, meanwhile, remained quiet, his sharp mind analyzing everything. Sean's confidence was genuine, and his presence commanded respect, even if some resisted it.

'This wizard… he's dangerous,' Harry thought, his gaze narrowing slightly. 'But if he's as powerful as he claims, perhaps he's also useful.'

For now, Harry kept his thoughts to himself, watching as the pieces on the board shifted. Whatever game Thorne and Sean were playing, he intended to ensure that he stayed one step ahead.

"Baron Henry," Earl Thorne's voice was sharp yet controlled as he stepped forward, attempting to regain some semblance of order. "Mr. Sean is my guest, here to help us resolve this plague. I expect you to show him the respect he deserves."

Baron Henry snorted, folding his arms defiantly. "And so what if he's your guest? Does that mean we're supposed to bow to his whims?" His voice was laced with venom, and he didn't bother masking his disdain. "I know exactly what you're doing, Thorne. You want us to do your dirty work, don't you? Charge in, take the risks, and clean up this mess while you sit back and reap the rewards."

He smirked, glancing around at the other lords with a knowing look. "Don't even think about it. You're lucky I even bothered to show up, let alone take orders from some… pale lunatic."

A few chuckles rippled through the room as the lords exchanged amused glances. Henry's words struck a nerve, and it was clear many shared his sentiments. Though they had gathered here at Thorne's invitation, they were under no obligation to obey him. As lords, they held considerable autonomy, and their positions as knights gave them power that even Thorne couldn't easily challenge.

Harry leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he observed the unfolding scene. The tension in the room was palpable, but something about it didn't sit right with him.

'This doesn't add up,' Harry thought, his mind racing.

He had spent the past few days quietly gathering information about the other lords, and Henry's behavior wasn't surprising. The man was well-known as one of Earl Thorne's main political adversaries in the region. They'd been at odds for years, each vying for influence and dominance.

But what puzzled Harry was Thorne's reaction or lack thereof. Thorne, for all his cunning, didn't seem like the type to lose his temper so easily. Yet here he was, red-faced, yelling at Henry in a way that seemed entirely out of character.

Harry's eyes flicked to Sean, the so-called wizard. The man stood still, his pale face betraying little emotion. At first glance, he seemed as unbothered as ever, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor, a faint flicker of irritation in his otherwise calm expression.

'Is this what Thorne wants?' Harry wondered. 'Is he trying to provoke something?'

Thorne's voice boomed again, cutting through Harry's thoughts.

"I'll ask you one more time, Baron Henry," Thorne said, his voice rising. "Will you obey Mr. Sean's orders and cooperate to solve this crisis, or will you stand aside and let this plague consume everything?"

Henry's smirk grew wider. He leaned forward, planting his hands on the table. "You don't scare me, Thorne," he sneered. "And I don't take orders from some so-called 'wizard.' You think we're here to follow you blindly? To risk our lives for what? A few peasants dying of a sickness? You must take us for fools."