In front of the Rothschild trading house, a fairly large queue had already formed from early in the morning.

The line consisted of attendants sent by the heads of numerous noble families. Perhaps because of the high-ranking aides of very important people gathered here, it had turned into a sort of political scene.

“Hm-hm, I’m here under the orders of Count Palma. Would you mind stepping aside?”

“Why are you making a fuss? The Count isn’t even here, so what’s with the show-off?”

“There’s a hierarchy, just like with water—there’s a hierarchy in the servants too, you know.”

People were …