Rising from where he was seated, Arthur unbuckled his sword and sheath from his waist and dropped it down onto the tree root with a casual thunk. The blade was worth three thousand gold coins and yet he seemed to handle it with the same care one might show toward a stick picked up from the forest floor.
He walked a few steps forward before turning around to face Nero, his expression shifting into something a bit more serious. The facade of the playful nobleman had vanished, replaced by an air of mystery. One that inspired intrigue.
"Magic does not have morality," was the first thing he said.
Nero looked at him in confusion, his brow furrowing. What did morality have to do with whatever Arthur was about to show him?
