Having drunk enough wine, the king threw down his wine goblet and exercised his joints.
He snorted softly at Poffret who laid on the ground. "Brat, you have the guts to mention the war from twelve years ago? The destruction and gore twelve years ago, how much of it can you comprehend?" King Nuven glared disdainfully at his prey who had lost both arms. "You were only a pampered heir to a suzerain. Your grandfather only let you stay in the main camp—the safest one. He didn't even allow you to transport baggage."
Thales saw that the young archduke's eyes were bloodshot and he stared straight ahead in a daze. It was as if he had forgotten about the immense pain in his arms.
"However, perhaps your grandfather was right. Letting trash like you transport supplies and baggage… what if you had encountered Horace Jadestar who raided supplies from the rear?" Having said this, King Nuven's face dimmed. "Perhaps all these accursed nonsense would not have happened."
