Heena adjusted her heavy leather cloak, her face instantly dropping the playful smirk and falling back into the cold, untouchable mask of the Vanguard Madam.
As she walked down the white marble steps toward the outer courtyard, she noticed a massive, highly intimidating figure standing near the Vanguard carriage.
It was Grandpa Marcuset.
The old warlord had just finished his own battle in the imperial courtroom. He was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, his heavy armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. The surrounding civil officials and minor nobles were actively giving him a wide, terrified berth, practically pressing themselves against the courtyard walls to avoid his gaze.
Hearing her boots clicking against the stone, Grandpa Marcuset turned. A booming, incredibly proud laugh erupted from his chest.
