A day after receiving his armor, Logan leaned against the window of his private study, having just finished reviewing stacks of important documents.
His eyes wandered over the bustling streets of Rosethorn in the distance.
The city seemed alive in ways he never could have imagined. He still remembered when it had been nothing more than a poor, abandoned village.
Now its streets were paved with clean stone, and glowing lanterns fueled by mana lined the roads. Enchanted carriages, designed by Ruben, glided smoothly without horses, an ingenious mix of cars and carriages that still preserved the medieval theme.
And yet, Logan's thoughts were far away, replaying Myrea's words in his mind.
"They are loyal and they love you, but… a small crack is forming. You must fix it soon."
