In disbelief, Thales watched Fakenhaz leave. He listened to the sound of his cane slowly become weaker, until it was barely noticeable.
After some time, the prince exhaled, incensed.
"Yodel, do you know that man?" While he digested the shock he received just now, Thales tightened his grip around the national sword of the Ancient Empire which Cyril had left behind for him.
Faint words traveled from the air behind him. "I am unfamiliar with him."
"Unfamiliar?" A light crease appeared between Thales' brow. The teenager sensed the weight of Sentinel in his hands before he slowly drew the shining cold blade from its sheath.
The sword hilt was incredibly long. He could basically hold it with two hands, one near the crossguard, and the other near the pommel, then he could use it like a greatsword, even like a longspear.
