Moments later, Oliver returned, leading a middle-aged man. He wore a fine coat, his gray hair combed back neatly. A monocle rested over his right eye, and his steps were calm and measured. Though he seemed old, his presence was sharp, and his clothes were meticulous.
He stopped before Ethan and bent forward in a respectful bow. His voice was clear and humble, the way commoners greeted nobility.
"Lord Blanks," he said, lowering his head, "it is an honor to stand before you."
Ethan gave him a nod. "You must be Aaron, the appraiser.Please take a look at this."
"Yes, My Lord. I will do my work carefully." He straightened himself and adjusted his monocle with practiced ease.
Ethan gestured to the items. "Please, assess them."
Aaron's hands moved with a steady grace as he first reached for the weapons.
His fingers brushed over the blade of a longsword. He tilted it, studying the edges and the runes barely etched into the steel.
