When Mufasel stepped into the Holy Alliance's military camp, his first reaction was that it was overly uniform.
Lining both sides of the road were the standardized canvas tents of the Holy Alliance, with waterproof oilcloth draped on top.
They were almost identical, as if copy-pasted, even giving Mufasel an illusion of walking through a maze.
They were supported by baked hardwood poles, pulled taut by ropes, with key reinforcement parts firmly clamped, unlikely to collapse unless faced with a massive storm.
"You haven't seen this before, have you?" Grand Duke Saranto's smiling yet annoying voice made Mufasel grit his teeth.
As a former Count of the Falan Kingdom's royal court, he was an old acquaintance of Grand Duke Saranto.
Once a pair of equally matched political rivals, now one has become a blood servant advocating for the Royal Court, while the other, despite losing the King's trust, was bound to be reused sooner or later.
Only Mufasel could truly feel the disparity.
