Steampunk Era: Mad Abield

Anthony brought Malin back to his family’s ancestral home, a very beautiful castle. When the Gallo family first arrived at the southernmost tip of Farole, they took root here, and this family had always stood with their people, facing various surges and desperate situations.

The current head of the Gallo family was an old man, thin and short, blind in the left eye, his right hand missing a piece, and his left calf replaced by a false leg.

When Anthony saw him, he quickly came to his side, bent down, and lifted the old man’s left hand, kissing the ring on his ring finger, "Great-grandfather, I have brought Sir Malin Gaiate."

The old man withdrew his attention from the book in his hand, raising his head, "Good afternoon, Mr. Malin, I have heard of your story. Anthony received your kindness, and on behalf of my family, I thank you. It’s thanks to you these fools could come back alive."

"My great-grandfather is still mad at me. I’ve lost twenty great swordsmen, oh, the Gallo family!" This talkative junior was interrupted by his elder with a cane tap as the elder caught up with the topic, "Each great swordsman was an elite trained for at least twenty years, and this foolish boy left them in the North, some without even their bodies recovered. If he’s not a fool, then what is he? So, thank you, Mr. Malin."

"Your Excellency, these injuries of yours..." "More than thirty years ago, I killed a Great Chaos Demon when the Tide of the Dead came. These injuries are the gift it left me, and I severed its head and offered it to the Lord of Justice. My family has maintained its legacy for hundreds of years on sacrifice, honor, and the greatsword, not by a mage’s hands but with the help of a lord destined to become legendary, surviving that fated deadly night."

Malin smiled, somewhat awkwardly and with regret, "Times have changed, Your Excellency."

"I know, I’ve also seen the new style of firearms, with barrels even having very standard rifling. In my youth, a muzzleloader took at least 40 seconds to load for a single shot and no step could be omitted. Yesterday, this foolish great-grandson of mine pulled out the gun you gave him and fired twenty shots in ten seconds. I knew then, just like he said, the era of the great swordsmen was over."

At this, the old man sighed and looked at Malin, "Our princess is to marry you, isn’t she."