"Who? That Lord?" The Knight Commander's dull voice also carried a hint of hesitation.
Before, he could afford to look down on that Lord, but now, thinking about it, just how strong does a man have to be to suppress the evil cult causing chaos in Hamlet?
Anyone who's made it to that level of power is no idiot.
"I'll go meet him, hopefully we can get his help." Martin knew that if Lance didn't speak up, they were stuck.
But since this involved the Saint, he couldn't afford to keep fussing over this; face and dignity meant nothing to him anymore.
"Will he cooperate with us?"
"I don't know, but back when the ruins were in turmoil I saved his Honor Guard. I don't like him, but I have to admit he's someone who clearly separates gratitude from grudges."
Under Martin's hood, his face was endlessly weary. Hamlet clung to him like a nightmare, as if he could never break free...
