A paladin entered the small tavern, his polished armor scraping softly against the doorframe as he stepped inside. He approached General Giuseppe without hesitation.
Upon seeing the towering figure in ceremonial steel, Giuseppe sneered and burst into laughter.
"You see them?" he said loudly, gesturing with his cup. "Those pompous armors. They stopped working in Europe the moment modern muskets appeared. But they love to show off, so they parade around in useless, glittering tin."
The soldiers laughed, some openly sneering with disdain.
The paladin's face darkened beneath his helmet. As one of the Bishop's chosen, he was the face of the Church's authority. This general showed no respect—not for him, and certainly not for the Bishop.
He reached for his sword.
Instantly, pistols and blades were raised, all pointing at him.
Giuseppe remained seated, utterly calm.
