When Buerwelf was dragged to the west ice cellar he was so familiar with, the two guards he had summoned were already being hoisted up onto the flagpole under the command of the Ten Households Leader.
Under the moonlight, Jeanne stood quietly in place, watching Horn.
Horn had a smile on his face as he strode toward her, stopping only when they were an arm's length apart.
"Why are you late?"
Jeanne's voice, rare with a hint of complaint, had a sobbing tone.
"Something happened on the way that delayed me." Horn touched Jeanne's head, "Meanwhile, let me argue a bit, I don't call you sister, only because in my eyes, I don't see you as a sister, you're my Jeanne."
Lowering her head, Jeanne didn't let Horn see her face: "Hmm..."
Horn directly reached out to hug Jeanne, kissing her forehead: "We'll talk about this later, take out your battle flag, I need you to help me with something."
