Ivita tapped the table. "Calm down."
"Akaranda."
"Let me have a look."
Akaranda placed an arrow and a sheepskin on the desk, with the arrow piercing the sheepskin. This letter must have been delivered by bow and arrow.
The text was written in fresh blood on the sheepskin.
The old witch sniffed, "This is human blood. The son of the forest used human blood to write a war letter to his majesty, such a arrogant race."
"Just a race that was eliminated by humans a thousand years ago."
Anger flashed in Branton's eyes, he clenched his fists and glared at this heavily provocative war letter.
This blood must be from his people.
The Sons of the Forest killed his clan and now treated his former people so arbitrarily.
He closed his eyes, filled with anger and helplessness.
He was indeed not a qualified lord.
He was too weak, in both strength and wisdom.