"The first time I killed someone, my father told me that man is nothing more than a skin of flesh and blood, and that he holds everything together with bones, just like those wild beasts. ”

At the castle's belated celebration dinner, the Count raised his glass and drank freely.

Lance leaned on his seat in some bad condition, turned his head a little puzzled, and raised his wine glass as a salute in return.

"I went to war after the eighteen-year-old bar mitzvah, a trial arranged by my family, you know. He explained, not wanting the Count to misunderstand anything.

"Oh, but you're not quite the same as I've heard," the count muttered, remembering the heroic manner in which Lance had rescued him, "perhaps we should seriously consider who is playing some tricks behind it." ”

"And what good advice do you have?" said Lance, a little noncommittal, a little haunted by the fact that the Count had locked himself up before.

"I mean, what prompted you to convict me of treason?" he added, adding that it was time for a frank exchange.

"To tell you the truth, I always thought you were playing tricks...", the Count took a big sip of wine and explained as much as he could, "It all started when I received a secret letter about you..."

After a short period of time, Lance finally understood the source of the Count's hostility towards him when he hurried to Ilcutrin.

He complained with some dissatisfaction: "All those who say that just a secret letter from nowhere did you conclude that I have some ulterior agreement with Sarion, deliberately luring the people of the Misty Mountains and putting the lives of the people and soldiers of the kingdom at risk?"

Boom!

Lance slammed his glass on the table with some excitement, stood up and yelled at the earl, "Do you know that Igor is my brother! Although there is no definite information to prove it, it is very likely that he has died! Do you know what you are talking about? You are trying to break my friendship with him! I will not believe it..."

"Hey, calm down, boy, calm down!" said the Earl, who was a little ashamed, though still a little puzzled in his heart, had already revealed his identity by Lance's defiance of the outnumbered enemy.

"What's going on, my lords?" asked the knight, puzzled.

He was forced back by the vicious eyes of the two.

"Calm down, don't you just want to hear my explanation!Then I'll explain it to you!" Lance said angrily, "The truth is that I am not treasonous! Igor is a hero! He died in the town of Lane because of my wrong order! My order! Ha! My order..."

His tone gradually deepened, as if the fuel that supported his anger had been burned out, and he sat down again in some despair, covering his head and pouring a whole glass of wine.

"I'm sorry," the Count tried to comfort Lance, "you know, the rumors about you, everyone would rather believe that you are a villain who has taken on the rank of a warrior than that you are a valiant warrior, after all..."

"I'm just an illegitimate child, after all. Lance laughed self-deprecatingly, unconsciously playing with the empty wine glass: "Every bastard deserves to be a waste, and can only be a waste, this is the tradition..."

"I apologize to you for my prejudice, Lance Stoker!" said the Earl solemnly.

"Hey, don't call me that!" Lance stood up suddenly, perhaps because of the alcohol, he felt a little dizzy, and quickly propped his hands on the table, and said, "I'm Lance Ilcutlin!

"Okay, sorry. The Earl followed his gaze and glanced at the attendants around him, and then realized that he and the others were still caught in the whirlpool of conspiracy.

Who knows how much eyeliner has been planted at this dinner party?

"Why, haven't you recovered yet?" the Count quickly changed the subject, noticing that Lance was a little weak, and asked as if curious, "That kind of power, I mean, the kind of power you used before..."

"Divine power?" said Lance in agreement, there was nothing to hide, after all, what the gods craved was the faith of mortals.

"God—" The Count poured another large sip of beer and looked at Martin and Jacob with confused eyes, "What god do you believe in?"

"Nidaya, God of Love and Justice. Lance followed his line of sight.

Those two rammers used Shenwei to kill all sides today, and at this moment they were the focus of everyone in the hall, boasting about something there, and the noisy environment around them was a little inaudible.

But from the knights and soldiers who kept clinking glasses with the two of them, and the neat exclamations or two from time to time, it proved that the content they boasted seemed to be very popular with everyone.

"They are the knights of the Temple of Order. Lance explained with a serious face: "Our doctrine is roughly to maintain world peace and preach love and justice in our hearts..."

"Poof!" the Count squirted out a mouthful of beer, "Ahhh What a great goal!"

“...!” Lance flicked the corners of his mouth helplessly, barely squeezing out a smile.

Regarding the teachings of the Temple of Order, Angel is obviously more vocal, and it is said that with the convenience of this special time of war, many people have become the people of Nidaya under her preaching.

"Maybe we should talk about the barbarians of the Misty Mountains. He digressed again.

Although he seemed to be ridiculed, but being interrupted by the earl like this, his inner thoughts were much clearer, and after seeing those extraordinary powers, Lance was nothing more than thinking about how to improve his strength.

After all, the power of mortals was so fragile and vulnerable in the face of Shenwei, perhaps even a warrior as strong as the Earl could not stop the scorching of the Holy Flame, which made him feel a strong sense of powerlessness, and then began to deny the meaning of his own existence.

"God has given two gifts to the living, the joy between the sexes and the excitement of fighting to the death. The Count ignored his clumsy technique of diverting the subject, and continued to babble on about his understanding of God: "But perhaps it is only when all things are gone that you will understand what is the value of life..."

He raised his glass and winked at Lance.

"Uh... Thank you—" Lance took a sip of the liquor from his glass, feeling something real.

It's just that I didn't expect that the earl's rough style would be able to say something quite philosophical.

"Hey, boy, what kind of eyes are you!" the Count looked at him dissatisfied.

"Ahh Lance hurriedly argued, and the more he spoke, the more methodical he became: "If something goes wrong with Silverblade Castle, it stands to reason that there shouldn't be only such a few people! Could it be that their target is Ryan?"

The situation of the family made the Count serious, and he replied, "Unfortunately, the Ranger is dead, and we know nothing about the situation at Silverblade Castle. ”

"But it's not going to be good. Lance took over: "Otherwise, the Ranger wouldn't have been pursued." ”

"Maybe we should keep looking. The Count nodded, agreeing with Lance's speculation.

"We'll go for ourselves!" he slammed his glass on the wooden table, "I'd like to see what those damn brutes are up to!"

"But Ilketlin—" Lance hesitated, after all, the castle was full of the inhabitants of all the surrounding villages.

"It's just me and you, and the Rangers!" the Count pointed to the crowd playing around, "My knights will take a good look at this place." ”

"Ho!

A neat and cacophony rang out, accompanied by the rhythmic thud of wine glasses and wooden tables, and Lance turned his gaze to the knights under the Earl's command.

One of the guys was wrestling with Jacob, and the Templar Knight, who lacked divine support, gritted his teeth and struggled to support his arms with a hideous expression, but finally reluctantly collided with the table with a muffled sound.

"Cut!"

The outcome was decided, and suddenly a wave of disgruntled boos rang out.

The victorious knight triumphantly took the 'dinar' (coin) from the table, showed it to the crowd and put it into his bosom - it seemed that many people won against Jacob.

Inexplicably, Lance remembered Carlos, who was still recuperating in the room at the moment, this knight broke his leg and put in so much effort, but he didn't get the heroic treatment he wanted, he should be very disappointed.

Even the Count, having only thanked him in his condolences and promised him better treatment, put all this behind him, let alone the knights.

The commotion in front of him made him feel a little for a while.

Perhaps it was because he had read it too much, but that seemingly ridiculous doctrinal declaration had vaguely left a shallow imprint on his heart.

Lance felt that he had become a little sentimental lately, and that he had lost his previous image of decisiveness.

"Whose orders are they to obey?" he asked, pointing to the mess, to the Count.

One of the knights, probably not accustomed to the arrogant posture of the winning knight, had already pushed and shoved, and it seemed that it would not be long before he could enjoy a fierce hand-to-hand fight.

"Haha, that's the one who won!" laughed the Earl, interested in the brawl that had begun.

With the fierce noise, the scene seemed to get out of control for a while, the tables and chairs were swung as weapons, wine glasses were thrown around, and the hall suddenly became chaotic.

"As the acting lord of Ilcutrin," Lance frowned with some dissatisfaction, "I don't feel comfortable entrusting the safety of those civilians to these knights. ”

"Hey, boy, how can a Northern Lord's dinner be without fighting? That's a man's romance!" the Count stood up with an expression that you didn't know how to appreciate, and shouted at the two brawling knights, "Hey, Buck, are you wasting all your energy on women?

"I'll go with you. Lance picked up the glass and slammed it on the table, trying to attract the earl's attention: "But I need your knight to accompany me, and the commander of the castle will belong to Angel." ”

"A maid?" said the Count, turning his head in surprise.

"No, a Temple Priest!" Lance said in an affirmative tone.