Everything was silent. Even the gradually dissipating thick fog solidified in the air. The musicians breathed heavily in the depth of the mist. Before the iron gate, Jerome took the bag from his back and opened it layer by layer. He melted the red wax of the royal seal and the broad seal to unlock the shackles.
Thus, a coarse black iron spear was revealed from the linen cloth. With dried scarlet blood on it, it was captivating. When it was swung, it howled like dragon roaring. It cut the fog but also stung the eyes.
"St. George's spear?" Charles gasped. Something felt wrong. "Wasn’t this thing lost long ago?"