On the mountain peak late at night, the mountain wind howled, the vast starry river shining in the sky, Lorne elegantly finished his grape wine in one gulp, let out a graceful burp, and gently patted his warhorse, "Handir, are you full?"
The elf warhorse nodded heavily, licking the bowl bottom with still some intent and snorted towards Laine.
"It's praising you for making good soup~ hahaha~" Lorne carefully helped his warhorse groom its mane and laughed, "There are few things that can earn Handir's praise, by the way, where's your warhorse?"
"I let a companion ride it, so they could escape alive." Laine observed the numerous gaps and damages on his chain armor, thinking it might be hard to repair, and he would need a new set of armor.
"A warhorse is half a knight's life, you're willing to entrust your life to someone else?" Lorne immediately realized how dangerous the crisis facing that group of humans was.
