Julius Ginellevé stripped down the bandages from his chest and grabbed for a plain white shirt from his cabinet, pulling it down through his body. His movements were smooth, fast and controlled. It was a familiar rhythm he had for what seemed to be revolving and unchanging days, his purple eyes set on the pristine shining set of armor provided to him. The breastplate, gauntlets and everything were a beautiful set of silver-colored metal.
This suit of armor that he had used since he first became the Knight of the Lockhart House—it was continually dyed in red but retained its purity and metallic shine. He slipped them on and finally strapped his sword to his side. It was an unnatural feeling to not always have it at his side, and he pulled it out. The glittering blade shone in the morning light.
