Walking in the silent troop, Raymond felt a bit nervous. Although his companions around him were all eager to fight, and even though he deeply knew he was carrying a glorious and sacred mission, his hands were still uncontrollably trembling.
"If that guy knew what I was doing, he would probably be happy..."
He rubbed his nose uncomfortably, recalling the old geezer who always loved to stare at a rusty old sword, whose voice and snores were shockingly loud, one of the culprits who hindered him from becoming a great musician.
If it were not for the other two culprits being his left and right hands, Raymond felt that his resentment towards his father would have been even greater back then.
