The moment Michael placed the second manual back into the box, the official clasped his hands together.
"Well then, Viscount Mic Nor," the man said with a wry smile. "It's time to decide where your banner will fly."
Michael glanced down at the parchment again, the marked red dots now seeming far more significant than they did just moments ago.
"Truthfully," Michael said, "I don't know what to pick."
The man's brows raised.
Michael looked up.
"Do you have any suggestions?"
The official blinked, surprised at first, then nodded slowly.
He had many suggestions—but most importantly, he saw an opportunity.
Michael wasn't just any tournament champion.
He was the man who might become the Duke's son-in-law.
Establishing a good relationship with Michael now… might be a ladder worth climbing.
"Actually, I do," the man said, his voice warm. "Three options come to mind. I'll explain them simply, and you can decide what suits your needs."
