The former King looked serene, with none of the loneliness of one who had stepped down from dazzling splendor into the shadows.
The twilight halo lent him an added air of sanctity.
"My era has already passed. New wheels will inevitably roll over the tracks of the old. Sir Godfrey, do not feel sorry for me. This is the release I have sought for so long."
Godfrey stood there blankly. "Your Majesty."
"Call me Baldwin."
"As an old friend of many years, I only ask that, while Lothar is unable to spare himself, you do not stop me from leaving."
Baldwin slowly removed his surcoat embroidered with the golden cross on a white field. Smiling, he tapped the plain breastplate beneath, devoid of any ornamentation—clearly a product of the Lothar Armory.
This crude breastplate, made of only two iron plates, had swiftly become wildly popular after Lothar's smithing workshops introduced it. It was cheap, sturdy, and easy to maintain, with annual production even reaching eight thousand pieces.
Yet even with its price driven so low, ordinary commoner soldiers still found it difficult to afford, apart from knights and conscripted soldiers from relatively well-off urban households.
Thus, Baldwin now looked exactly like a down-and-out knight who had come to the Holy Land, whose luck was neither particularly good nor particularly bad, but who could at least afford a new mount and an extra layer of steel plates over his mail.
"Your safety..."
"Do not worry. Sir Dimitri will be with me."
Godfrey glanced at the Sword-bearing old servant following Baldwin, a man who had always had little presence. His Adam's apple bobbed as he pondered words of persuasion for a long while, but in the end, he merely sighed softly.
"If you can ensure your own safety, then I have nothing