"Your Highness, who are you speaking with?"
"Yes, who?"
The swordsmith, immersed in inebriation, smiled happily: "Perhaps with future generations?"
"For a fellow like you who enjoys reversed actions, is there even a future to speak of?"
The companion sneered with a cold snort: "It might end poorly, with a tyrant emerging among your descendants, one whom the world will band together to condemn, leaving endless calamities!"
"Haha, that's possible too."
The swordsmith couldn't care less. He leaned on his knees, basking in sunlight, casually plucking his sword to play a melody, a slow smile spreading across his lips:
"But imagine, a thousand or ten thousand years later, after all is past, you and I reduced to dust, our names and histories vanished into oblivion.
Yet after everything, if there's still someone who can rise with a sword as we did...
Isn't that a good thing?"
The companion fell silent for a long time, heaving a spontaneous sigh:
"Absolutely perfect."
"Right?"
