The next morning, Melchior walked into the town square, where nearly everyone gathered and waited.
"That him?" a voice whispered.
"Yeah, it is."
"The kid that wiped out an entire team of trained Zatanians?"
"He definitely doesn't look weak,"
Most of them weren't townspeople. These strangers were all able-bodied people with sharp expressions. They donned a light shade of identical grey leather armours with short navy blue cloaks that hung over their shoulders and ended mostly at the waist.
The cloaks held the Kingdom's emblem. It was of a majestic golden bird with long wings that spun outward as if taking flight. Behind the bird was a shield's vague silhouette, and a sword pointed facing up.
On the cloaks were also a single star for most of them, marking them as the lowest of the low in the hierarchy.
