The tall man was extremely concerned about the fact that he would have to deal with such a difficult task as the brutal massacre of his only, faithful childhood friend. The successor to the throne of the purple state, whose skin, unlike the king, was too pale, and he himself was dressed most often in blue shades. The sky-blue hair of the head of the knights fluttered in the wind as he nervously pondered the fact of how to quickly complete the execution of the order. Suddenly, he heard someone's footsteps behind him on a snow-covered hill and immediately turned sharply, pointing the pointed tip directly at the stranger's throat. In which, he immediately recognized his colleague.

— You! Do you even know what might happen to you the next time you want to approach me from behind like that? I might accidentally hurt you, don't forget! We have a fucking mission. And don't you dare tell lord.

The big-eared elf exhaled irritably, his ears twitched nervously, and he lowered the pointed, family sword with the image of a beautiful crown on the hilt into the thick and dense snow. Sir Alon was disappointed, lost, and annoyed.