Count Mollando was serving free food and drinks to the people of his territory. It was his way of consoling those who had been affected by the war as well as celebrating their victory.1

“Honestly, that’s a pretty nice lord,” Bachman said as he looked at Count Mollando. The festivities had been going on for two straight days.0

“Really? That’s a good lord?” Urich retorted. He didn’t understand the noble society. To him, it was strange that people were letting that weak Count Mollando reign over them. In his world, the chief of the tribe had to be the most respected warrior of the tribe.0

“At least Mollando doesn’t take more than he needs to. Did I ever tell you why I left my hometown? It’s because I was on the brink of starving to death. These high-and-mighty bastards were taxing the fishermen even during the winter when ships couldn’t set sail,” Bachman spat on the ground. He made the career change from a fisherman to a gladiator. It was a change that came with a much higher compensation, but it was rare for gladiators to retire in one piece. More often than not, their retirement was death.1

“Cheers to the mercenaries who brought us victory!”0

“Here, here!”1

Count Mollando...0