Thales gaped at Lampard's sword, halfway out of its sheath.
This was not the first time he was in grave danger. And based on Thales' understanding of this world, it would not be his last.
However, he did not have the slightest clue as to what he could do, stuck in a carriage with the bloodthirsty Archduke Lampard, and hundreds of soldiers outside.
Should he channel his so-called mystic energy once more?
Thales reached out and grasped Little Rascal's hand.
"You must be Nuven's granddaughter, little girl," Lampard said flatly, turning his sword.
The two children froze. Thales' palm was ice-cold. For a while, he did not know how he was supposed to react to the situation
He had noticed it...
The Archduke of Black Sand Region fixated on the old sword in his hands, his eyes were filled with peculiar emotions.
