Rowan had expected Celeste's guard to arrive in white-and-gold armour. Instead, the man waiting downstairs wore a brown shirt and plain trousers, with a single sheathed sword at his waist.
They had been walking for a while now, and Rowan was grateful that his companion didn't seem to mind stopping.
There was so much to look at. He read shop signs, peered through windows, and occasionally found himself following a conversation between strangers until the crowd carried it out of hearing. The guard kept beside him, speaking only to point out a turning or warn him about an approaching vehicle.
Outside a weapons shop, Rowan stopped again.
A sword lay on dark cloth behind the window. It had a plain crossguard and a brown leather grip, without the ornaments decorating some of the weapons beside it.
His father would have liked that one.
