Moon weighed the sword in his hand, then looked up at Tom.
"Are you sure about this? This is way too much. A B-Rank Second Order weapon forged by Master Veylin is worth tens of millions at minimum." He paused. "Besides, you know I'm not a swordsman. I'm a mage. Why give me a sword? Isn't the third Glassy representative a swordsman variant class? He'd benefit far more from this than I would."
Tom waved a hand dismissively, his grin not fading in the slightest.
"Nonsense. It's exactly enough. You're representing the Glassy Group, and a Glassy representative carries the best, not the second best." He clapped Moon on the shoulder. "Besides, were you not paying attention when your brother in la—"
He caught himself mid-word, changing it at the last moment, "I mean. When Alaric Sky was giving out his speech."
Moon's eyes twitched. He couldn't tell whether the old fox meant it or not, but knowing him, it was likely deliberate.
