Asher almost lost his decorum the moment he saw the grade of this troop, but he held himself.
What this meant was that each and every soldier would eventually become saint-ranked armored swordsman knights!
He trembled.
If he could nurture them properly, they would become a dreadful force known throughout the Tenaria continent.
"It's His Lordship." Nero nudged his father, who gazed at his dream to come alive. He had always dreamed of leading armored swordsmen but training such a rare troop was a bleak dream. Swordsmen had a pitiful durability, but armored swordsmen were several folds more durable; unfortunately, they were hard to train.
Hearing his son, he turned his head toward the gate and saw Asher walking in.
Before he could speak, the King Swordsmen, over 100 of them, had their Centraks bow toward Asher while they lowered their heads.
Asher smiled.
"Arise, my swordsmen."
