The candidates for Feather King looked a little... off.
This was the trouble with being a Sorcerer—Annan was completely in the dark. He didn't know any of them, so all he could do was remember their names and ask Olmedo afterward.
The thirteen candidates vying to become the new King stood in a row. They were all young, and there was even a little boy among them—though Annan was already twenty and wasn't the youngest there.
The Bone King behind Annan spoke. In a few words, he said they would be summoned once everything was ready, then dismissed the meeting.
The High Kings gave the candidates no chance to talk. Once the competition began, they would have plenty of time for that.
Back in the real world, Annan hurried out of the garden and found Olmedo still in the office.
Olmedo looked up. Annan wasn't carrying the parchment he usually took everywhere.
There was no chance Annan had memorized his speech, so the answer was obvious.
"What are the Tower Knights?"
Creak—creak—
The basket loaded with Knight Golems rose slowly. The wind high above made it sway against the city wall, drawing strained groans from it.
"Easy, easy..."
Henry hurriedly called to the Resistance Army soldiers who had come to help.
The Berserker laughed at him. "Those golems didn't break even when the Ratfolk gnawed on them. You're worried about a few bumps?"
"They're heroes who protected the Northern Great Wall! Would you stand by while someone treated your heroes so roughly?" Henry sprayed spit as he spoke.
The Berserker had no answer. Rough on the outside but thoughtful underneath, he muttered a few words and slowed down.
Soon, that batch of golems reached the top. The Berserker led several warriors over to lift them out and set them