Inside a certain inn, countless men sat behind tables and counters, drinking, laughing, and enjoying themselves in a drunken haze.
At one particular table of three, there sat a muscular man with a short black beard, a bald, heavyset man with a thick moustache, and a tall, skinny man. Each of their faces was flushed red with drink.
"Bahahaha! So you're telling me that bastard went to fight in the war out west—and died!? Ha! Talk about getting in over your head. Bastard really was a fool!"
The muscular man roared with laughter, the others joining him without restraint.
"Yeah, it was stupid from the start! The idiot wanted to chase glory as a mundane, going up against Gifted. Well, so much for the glory! Bahahaha! I even heard the army took his corpse before the revolutionaries could, y'know... before it was no longer useful."
They laughed again at the fate of their dear friend—who had died.
Then, scratching his head, the skinny man suddenly spoke.
