Mordred walked the streets of Worton, feeling like an enemy general inspecting the defeated and occupied territories of a fallen country, knowing that in the not-so-distant future, this land would become his.
Once he found the little elf and chopped off its head, George should welcome him for solving a major problem and then welcome him to take the throne.
Of course, George could object, but that wouldn't be a wise idea.
"Gentlemen, would you like a newspaper? We have exclusive news about the selection ceremony."
Mordred turned his head to see a newspaper boy, about sixteen years old, wearing a gray felt beret at an angle, revealing short brown hair. He wore a simple and neat gray shirt and had a genuine smile on his face.
Mordred curiously looked down at the boy:
"You say you have exclusive news? You better not be lying."
The boy seemed intimidated but quickly recovered and said with enthusiasm:
