"By the Host! It's this late already, just stop quarreling," Winters had also cursed for the first time using expletives reserved for the faithful, feeling exceptionally weary—emotionally.
"Well, do you dare to bet with me?" Despite Winters's words, Bard kept his gaze fixedly on Andre, ignoring Winters.
Andre felt the stare prickling him, but his mouth remained defiant: "Fine, if you can recruit enough people to build the road, I will never say 'rustic' again in my life!"
"Agreed, it's a deal."
Bard and Andre clapped hands to swear on their bet.
After the clap, Bard spoke calmly: "I've already said, what lacks between the commoners of the island and us is trust. And trust... it can be bought with money."
"Buy trust? How does one buy it?" Winters was intrigued, leaning involuntarily towards Bard.
He felt inspired by Bard's words but still couldn't see through the haze, like an itch out of reach, making him desperate to know the solution.
