As Julian walked confidently into the county, his striking presence caused an immediate stir among the townsfolk. His badges reflected the sun rays making it seem like a divine ornament. His entire aura screamed authority—calm, proud, and unbothered.
"Is that… is that the Archduke?" a baker whispered, flour still on his hands.
"No way. What would he be doing here?" another murmured, clutching her child closer.
Some didn't dare speak. One by one, townspeople began kneeling in awe.
A skeptical young man whispered, "He can't be the real deal… maybe an impersonator?"
"Idiot," an older man scolded. "Look at those badges. That's no impersonator. That's Julian Easvil. The Archduke himself."
Julian didn't so much as glance at them.
His gaze remained fixed on the castle ahead, steps steady, back straight.
The initial gasp soon erupted into full-blown chaos. People rushed out from their homes, crowding into the streets to catch even a glimpse of the Archduke.
