The command fell, and ten thousand moved as one, turning and advancing like a giant iron beast with a clear will.
"Don’t rush to leave tomorrow; it’s just the Red Tide Legion’s parade."
He didn’t turn his head, rely saying lightly, "Since you are the Duke’s most trusted knight, stand guard for him."
"See if my wolves of the Northern Territory have teeth as sharp as his Southeast Province did back then."
A rare ripple finally appeared in Nico’s cloudy eyes.
Originally, he had harbored a desire for death, wanting to bring everything to an end.
But the phrase "stand guard for the old Duke" hit his final weak spot precisely.
Nico bowed his head deeply, his forehead almost touching the ground.
"At your command..." After a brief pause, his voice was deep and clear, "Patriarch."
The mont the form of address changed, the power completed its final transfer.
Louis’s gaze lingered on Nico for a mont, then shifted away.
However, a calm and realistic thought flashed in his mind:
A High-tier Extraordinary Knight, such a rare resource, would be wasted if lost halfway.
After Nico left, the top floor study returned to silence.
Bradley stood where he was, not speaking imdiately.
This Chief Steward, who always managed everything in Red Tide Territory impeccably, now had his eyes fixed on Louis’s left hand.
More precisely, they were fixed on the signet ring worn on his thumb.
His Adam’s apple rolled, and his lips trembled slightly beyond his control.
Having served the Calvin Family for thirty years, he was all too familiar with this ring.
Now that it had changed hands, it could signify only one thing...
The once-mighty Duke Calvin might have reached the end of his life.
Sorrow surged in his chest like a belated tide.
But when Bradley’s gaze rose and fell on Louis again, that grief was suppressed by a more complex emotion.
The deanor of the young lord before him was even more composed and powerful than the old Duke Calvin at his pri in mory.
Bradley suddenly realized that the child once deed unnecessary,
The young master sent to the Northern Territory to fend for himself had truly co this far.
The ring had not chosen the wrong person.
He opened his mouth, wanting to bow, but found his throat caught by sothing: "S... Sir... the old master he..."
No sooner had he spoken than his voice choked uncontrollably, and the latter half of the sentence couldn’t be uttered.
Louis looked at him and said nothing, walking instead to the liquor cabinet to retrieve a bottle of strong wine, swiftly pouring two glasses.
He handed one to Bradley: "Don’t put on a mournful face, Bradley, the old Duke isn’t dead yet."
This statent was not gentle, yet it held more strength than any consolation.
Bradley took a deep breath, accepted the glass, and nodded firmly, forcibly pressing down the emotions that threatened to overflow.
The atmosphere cald accordingly.
Louis didn’t give him much ti to process his emotions, naturally turning around and walking back to the oak long table covered with maps and docunts.
"How’s the parade preparation for tomorrow?" His tone had reverted to the cold deanor typical of a lord inquiring about military affairs.
Bradley almost reflexively straightened his back.
"Everything is ready, Sir." His voice was once again clear and orderly, "The compositions of all the legions have been verified, equipnt inspections, and formation drills are all completed. Logistics, dical, and the craftsman departnts are all on standby."
Louis nodded, seeming to mull sothing over when he suddenly opened his mouth: "I have an idea."
Bradley was taken aback, instinctively raising his head.
"Keep it in mind first." Louis’s tone was unhurried, "Add a segnt to tomorrow’s parade..."
Bradley’s eyes widened slightly.
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