Graycastle, Neverwinter.
Roland couldn't help squeezing his hand into a fist when he finished flipping through the reports sent from the frontline.
"What's the matter, Your Majesty?" Beside him, Nightingale noticed his strange behavior.
"No… Nothing." He leaned back in his seat and released a long sigh. "I'm just happy. Everybody's performances are exceeding my expectations."
"Really?" Nightingale was surprised and then chuckled. "Looks like they are all working hard."
"Indeed." Roland stood up, poured two cups of Chaos Drink and held one out to Nightingale. "They have really worked hard."
This was not an offhand remark but something he believed from the bottom of his heart. If he had not come all this way himself, he would have found it incredibly hard to believe that the First Army and the spear-wielding border troops from the past were one and the same.
