Conrad stepped into the carriage and, a moment later, came before Elliot holding a longsword.
The sword looked somewhat old. There was no telling how many years it had weathered or how many owners it had passed through.
What made it look even more shabby were the strips of paper pasted densely all over it.
Elliot had once asked Conrad to inquire about the Expedition Army. The Old Butler had brought back only these strips of paper.
Many names and dates were written on them, most in crooked scrawls, each in a different hand, barely legible.
Elliot took the longsword, his movements growing a little gentler.
He still could not remember all those names. The man who could remember the soldiers' names had been frozen forever upon the Throne.
"I'm sorry. I can't remember your names."
"But I promise you, a day will come."
Elliot slowly raised his head, looking past the ranks of soldiers toward the nobles watching him coldly from the entrance to the Nobles' House.
"I'll personally send these bastards to join you, so you can tell these maggots your names."
Elliot gripped the longsword and walked forward.
The wind blew against him, setting the hem of his clothes snapping and countless strips of paper fluttering like so many banners.
As he walked forward, the soldiers could not help turning to look.
He was clearly just one man, holding nothing more than a shabby longsword covered in strips of paper.
Yet it felt as though an entire army were approaching.
The scabbard carried the smell of gunpowder smoke and blood, so thick it would not dissipate.
The soldiers remained silent and motionless, sweat faintly appearing at their temples.
The distant nobles seemed cowed by his imposing presence as well. No one spoke. Only Elliot's footsteps could be