162 The Perfect Knight

Soft, smooth, and warm to the touch, much like the original — for all intents and purposes, it was as faithful a replica as anyone could have managed. Reed gently caressed the cloak in his hands as he inspected it from seam to seam in search of any possible flaws or imperfections. It had none to speak of. 

He could not find a reason to be upset about the replica in his hands. Whichever artisan made the cloak had clearly put an astounding amount of effort into its production, such that it had left Reed without words. 

What would she have thought about this situation? Would she have felt pride, embarrassment, or annoyance that she had posthumously become a symbol? I can't imagine her being too happy about becoming a children's toy. 

Reed chuckled. He wagered that she would have probably been delighted in secret, the troublesome woman she was at heart. Not that she would have ever admitted it to him, or anyone else, though...