“Heh, not really, I was just lucky. The orcs behaved themselves, so we didn’t have to clash with them for real—now that’s no joke. In the past few years, how could the fortress get through a year without spending hundreds of thousands of gold shields on compensation? It was only because things calmed down for a couple of years that I was willing to risk my life. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gone to die for nothing.” A sly expression, familiar to Harold, appeared on the horse-faced young man’s face. This guy might look clumsy, but as a knight, his usual trick was to play dumb and then strike with a fatal blow—showing weakness to hide his strength. But he couldn’t fool Harold and Potter, the two childhood friends who had grown up with him. It seemed these past two years hadn’t been wasted for this guy; not only had his martial skills improved, but his mind was also working on things.

“Where’s Paul? Where has he been messing around these past two years?” Harold gradually regained his old leader’s demeanor, his gestures now free of the awkwardness from when the three had just reunited.

“Heh, I’ve had it rough. I was sent straight to Phoenix City, supposedly to study, but it was really just a cage. I only got back a couple of months ago—I just couldn’t stand the restrictions in there.” The pale young man answered lightly, clearly not wanting to talk much about his painful experience.

“Oh? Phoenix City? Looks like your old man wants you to learn some political experience and become a government official.” Narrowing his eyes with a hint of mockery, Harold sneered inwardly. That’s the fate of those born out of wedlock and not the eldest son: unable to inherit the title, you either join the army as cannon fodder, or learn something and climb the bureaucratic ladder from the very bottom, or just drift around like those loafers on the street. Once you come of age, you’re left with a meager inheritance, and when that’s gone, you end up as a beggar or one of those utterly destitute families—basically, you become trash, a pile of garbage no one cares about. Phoenix City is the second largest city in the Principality of Nicosia, located in the western plains. The famous private university—Phoenix Elite Academy—is there, one of the best places in the principality to train grassroots officials. But it only produces low-level officials; high-ranking ones will never come from there. Many commoners from other countries on the continent also come to study, hoping to find a satisfactory job after graduation.

Feeling a bit awkward, Paul glanced at him. The words were still so sharp. He lowered his head and wiped his face—a habit of his when avoiding questions. “Heh, boss, there’s nothing I could do. We’re all in the same boat. You know none of us can tell what our future holds, but we still have to keep living.”

With a long sigh, Harold nodded silently, raised his glass, and downed it in one gulp. “Hmph, don’t lose heart. Heaven never seals off all exits. Since the heavens let me, Harold, be born, they won’t abandon us. There will be bread, and everything will come in time.”

“Boss, when did you start talking like those priests who enlighten the ignorant masses?” The horse-faced young man grinned. This guy was never a devout believer; if the church’s inquisition heard some of his blasphemies, they’d probably lock him up for decades if not burn him at the stake. Luckily, the rules in Cypruss squad weren’t strict in this regard, which was one reason Cypruss was so vibrant and different from other regions.

“Boss, how did you get through these three years?” The pale young man took a small sip of wine, his face already flushed red, clearly not good with alcohol. But his bright, deep eyes showed his mind was still clear.

“It’s not worth talking about. Compared to you guys, it was like heaven and hell. Exile after exile, and of course, some other things happened that you wouldn’t expect. I’ll tell you about them slowly later.” Harold shook his head, raised his glass, and let the wine linger in his mouth, as if savoring something. His experiences over the past three years were probably far beyond what others could imagine. Even he didn’t want to recall those days. Though hardship is a kind of training, the kind that hovers between life and death and endless pain is not a good topic for reminiscing.

“Boss, I can tell you’ve had some special experiences—I’d bet on it.” The horse-faced young man looked certain, excitement flickering in his eyes. “I can sense it. You have that aura unique to the mages in our fortress. Boss, did you learn magic?”

Startled, Harold scrutinized the horse-faced young man. He hadn’t expected this guy’s senses to be so sharp. Just now, he’d only tried to use a wave-transmission spell to eavesdrop on the conversation of that oddly-shaped fellow at the next table, and this guy had already picked up on it.

“Heh, I picked up a few little tricks by chance, nothing worth mentioning.” Harold didn’t deny it, but didn’t explain further either. “What do you think those people at that table over there are doing?”

Following Harold’s gaze, the horse-faced young man’s attention was immediately drawn away. That figure was incredibly robust, with a huge head adorned with a few beautiful feathers, a face like bronze with rock-like sharp features, and he was downing cup after cup of the fiery red millet liquor that most people wouldn’t dare touch, looking thoroughly satisfied.