The next morning, the knights who had accompanied Julius stood outside the mansion, their horses saddled and ready.
The crisp morning air carried a sense of anticipation, though it was lost on Griffin, who shuffled out of the mansion with a yawn, his mask slightly askew. He murmured under his breath, "Oh, this is so depressing…"
Walking beside him, Russell clicked his tongue in irritation. He had come out to see Julius off, but it seemed Griffin was also leaving with the team, much to his annoyance.
One of the soldiers greeted Griffin with a respectful bow. "Good morning, young lord."
Russell blinked twice, stopping mid-step as he processed the words. "Young lord? This is ridiculous," he said incredulously.
Griffin turned to him, his expression neutral under the mask. "What?" he asked flatly.
Russell planted a hand on his hip, clearly unimpressed. "I mean, you look older than all of us! So why do they call you young lord?"
