Cecil Salt had looked forward to meeting his savior, Baron Tycondrius.
But somehow... he'd forgotten his fear.
The Baron was young... appearing like a youth barely in his twenties, at most... but his demeanor was like he'd walked a hundred battlefields unharmed. His medium-length, but neatly trimmed hair was colored an uncommon green... and his sharp, golden eyes passed over Cecil like that of a judgmental god.
Though Cecil had once seen him in silvery Kingdom armor along with the royal blue cape of his homeland, the Baron inspected the adventurers while wearing the ornate sculpted-armor design of the Holy Country.
Was he a Paladin, too?
Even as strong as Cecil was, it felt like the Baron was infinitely stronger. He had to will himself to stop shaking in his boots. One wrong word... maybe even a hint of weakness would result in the Baron immediately executing him for heresy against the Tyrion god, the Eternal Flame.
