The beast-head buckle secured the cloak trimmed with ink-gray wolf fur, beneath which a rough, insulated leather vest lay, enveloped by a heavy, silver-gray wolf-fur collar cape.
On the snow-laden streets of Avalon, not only were soldiers busy shoveling snow and academy children engaged in playful snowball fights, but many noble guests from various places were also strolling and admiring the wintry scenes, with the winter festival and wedding celebrations around the corner.
While responding to greetings from Orland nobles, Dinexion knights, and Eastern Kantadar lords, each speaking Felu with distinct accents, Leon headed towards the upper district.
His long boots left a trail of shallow prints in the snow as Leon adjusted his warm cloak. Despite feeling impervious to this winter's chill—far less biting than the frigid air when riding the Death Claw at great speed—Olivia, claiming to feel cold, had thoroughly bundled him up before his departure.
