From Secret Clan to the Divine Dynasty

He could fully sense the vibrancy and vitality of the city, yet he also faintly perceived that overly rapid development wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

And those dirty piles of garbage scattered everywhere brought back memories of the plague he had experienced in his childhood, triggering many terrifying recollections in his mind.

“Sooner or later, the development planning of Fein City must be thoroughly intervened by the city hall, otherwise, it will definitely lead to chaos.”

Suddenly, as Byrne walked along the street, he was drawn to a tailor’s shop.

Displayed in the tailor’s shop were clothes of considerable quality, evidently made with fine craftsmanship suited for high-status individuals, which held his gaze for a long time, unable to turn away.

Byrne lowered his head to glance at the clothes he was wearing. Although they were fine garments, the details were not meticulous enough, making it easy to identify the wearer as someone from a lesser-known place.

He remembered Lucius saying that clothes make the man and that people are more willing to listen to someone who looks good, so investing in a more respectable outfit was indeed worth it.

Byrne then entered the tailor’s shop and quickly saw a tall, thin old man with prominent cheekbones and a stern expression, who walked towards him with precise steps.

The old man, dressed all in black and wearing a monocle, sized up Byrne and after a moment shook his head firmly and said,

“Sir, forgive me for being blunt, but your temperament and your clothes completely mismatch. I can tell you have talent, but that outfit is nothing but trash.”

Byrne was stunned by the other’s straightforwardness but smiled and asked, “Then what kind of clothes do you think would suit me?”

“You are a noble, or at least a knight, and the high society of Cyart these days is wearing tailcoats that come from the Lorne Empire.”

The old man’s voice was serious, professional, and left no room for doubt as he bowed and continued,

“Our shop will provide the East Coast’s most professional clothing recommendations and tailoring. We will not disappoint you.”

“What you need is a suit of Lorne-style navy blue tailcoat, not the Seven Stars style. All the clothes in our shop are made to measure, so please allow me to take down your measurements.”

Byrne grew more interested, but before getting measured, he prudently asked about the price and then was shocked by the quote of thirty silver coins. Nevertheless, after some hesitation, he decided to go ahead with it.

Just after his measurements were taken, he suddenly heard a woman’s voice from outside the door that had just been pushed open.

“Shopkeeper Hawley, how is my brother’s outfit coming along? He is soon to attend Viscount Bast’s banquet and must not fall behind others in appearance.”

The woman who entered the tailor’s shop was dressed lavishly, with light golden curls flowing down her smooth forehead, her eyes sparkling with youthful vivacity.

Seeing Byrne, who was putting on his coat, she paused for a moment and then greeted him with a smile, “Hello, sir, my name is Margaret, of the Hoffman family.”

Byrne nodded to her with composure and politeness, a slight smile on his lips as he said, “Good day, Madam Margaret, I am Byrne of the Fischer family.”

Margaret made a mental note of the name, Byrne, Fischer family.

But she lacked the courage to initiate further conversation. Shopkeeper Hawley finished jotting down Byrne’s measurements, then calmly stated,

“Madam Margaret, please come again tomorrow. The clothing for Baron Hoffman is not yet fully ready, as you know, perfect craftsmanship always takes time to show.”

“All right.”

Margaret nodded indifferently, stealing glances at the young and handsome man, silent for a long while, and after Byrne had left, she immediately asked Shopkeeper Hawley about the tailor’s store.

“That young man, I can’t believe I had never seen him before. I know all the nobility and members of knight clans in Fein City. Shopkeeper Hawley, do you know where he is from?”

Shopkeeper Hawley revealed a rather playful smile and, shrugging his shoulders, said, “I don’t know, madam.”

Margaret felt immediately deflated, but she couldn’t help fantasizing about the identity of that handsome young man in her mind, feeling inexplicably that he must be someone remarkable.

Continuing in a leisurely tone, Shopkeeper Hawley said, “But he will come back to our shop, and then I can ask him for you. Many things you want to know.”

After leaving the tailor’s shop, Byrne returned to Nordivar Bank and with great solemnity, took out a black iron box to store in the bank’s specially made safe. He had to pay a preservation fee of five silver coins every year.

He suspected that the Meyer family might still find a way to locate them, and if they were to send powerful individuals to cause trouble again, the safety of the Fischer family would be quite problematic.

But storing them in the banks of Fein City would be much safer; this city even had the presence of a Level 3 “Monarch”-class powerhouse, namely the regional Tempest Bishop of the East Coast. The Meyer family, no matter what, wouldn’t be able to come and plunder by force.

“One day I will take it back. The Fischer family will eventually find all the remaining components,” Byrne muttered to himself as he left the bank.

A few days later, Byrne visited the tailor shop again to make further fitting for his tailcoat.

Some time later, as he was about to leave, he received a letter. A baron, closely associated with the Romann family, had heard about the affairs of the Fischer family and invited him to attend an upcoming high-society party in Fein City.

Byrne was pleasantly surprised; his clothes would be ready just in time for the party.

All attendees of the party were members of Fein City’s high society. The host was the city’s lord, Viscount Bast, and the two most important guests were the Earl Hovern, the East Coast Governor, and the regional Tempest Bishop.

They held the power of life and death over millions of people in the East Coast Province.

When the graceful and handsome Byrne entered, he quickly caught the attention of numerous female guests.

His features were extremely refined, his appearance brimming with sunshine, yet there was a touch of melancholy in the depths of his eyes, especially when he smiled, his lips were utterly charming.

Byrne had no chance to converse with Earl Hovern and the Tempest Bishop, the two focal points of the event; he could only silently memorize their appearances.

Earl Hovern resembled his nephew, Baron Hovern, tall and slim, very sociable, only his smiling face showed clear signs of aging and his temples were grizzled.

The Tempest Bishop, on the other hand, was a ‘strange person’ wearing a long robe of blue and purple, reeking of alcohol.

His cold face twitched now and then; he never greeted anyone proactively and even his speech was somewhat incoherent when talking to others, which made Byrne, who had heard so much about him, quite taken aback; he would’ve believed that this guy was a drunkard about to be thrown out of a tavern.

Soon he learned the reason behind it; apparently, the Tempest Bishop had used a “Forbidden class” mysterious rare artifact in his early years and had paid a “price” that forced him to drink heavily every day to gradually become what he was now.

At the party, Byrne saw the lady with pale golden hair he had encountered the other day. While all the other girls were still watching, she had already approached politely.

Looking up, Margaret smiled and said, “Mr. Byrne, it’s been a while since we last saw each other. I am Baron Hoffman’s sister. Do you still remember our last encounter?”

Byrne was slightly startled, and he replied with a smile, “Madam Margaret, it’s an honor to see you again, a perfect coincidence. The person who invited me here is Baron Hoffman.”

Margaret feigned unawareness and showed a look of surprise.

“Is that so? How perfect! Really, what a coincidence!”

Byrne smiled gently, vaguely recalling that he had also “encountered” other girls in town a few times, all of whom seemed to have identical demeanors.

Hmm, he always felt that something was not quite right.