In a corner of the temple garden, Guliani was meeting with Dyson. Clad in neat regalia, Dyson, solemn beyond compare, seemed a mere lackey trailing behind the casually dressed Guliani.
While strolling leisurely, Guliani sporadically said: "Responsibility in the Western District is significant, and the situation is complex, crisscrossed with countless forces. It also borders the Elf Forest, making it a breeding ground for a myriad of potential errors."
"Yes, yes, your Holiness, please rest assured; I will certainly handle all of it aptly," Dyson responded, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Dressed in heavy ceremonial attire, and wearing a crown that felt like tens of pounds heavy, Dyson's neck felt like it would snap under pressure.
Certainly, his strength could make him indifferent to the weight of his clothing. Yet, trailing behind Guliani, he didn't dare to tap into his power and had to bear it all physically.