The two silver cups clinked softly, making a crisp sound.
The two people sitting opposite each other at the low table simultaneously raised their cups and took a gentle sip of the grape wine inside.
As soon as he took a sip, Ailard frowned.
The wine tasted dry and even had a faint rusty taste, utterly different from the ruby-glimmering, aromatic fine wine in Lakunio's cup.
It's too stingy of Lakunio—being the commander of the North Road Army, yet still discriminating even between cups of wine.
However, at the moment, Lakunio was favored by Serafe, and Ailard didn't want to offend him, so he could only smile.
"Lord Lakunio," Ailard put down his cup, breaking the silence, "Did you invite me here just to drink this cup of wine?"
Lakunio chuckled, speaking slowly: "It's been a long time. I just wanted to reminisce. Without you back then, Laslo and Stikal might not have made it out of Thousand River Valley."
