Step. Step.
A soldier guided him, and Rowan followed behind. The sounds from the jubilant drinking party reached faintly to the back of his head. Even before leaving there, Rowan, already sober, followed behind the soldier with a stiff face.
'What is it?'
He thought all kinds of thoughts. But those thoughts disappeared when the tent cloth was lifted by the soldier's arm. It wasn't that he cut off his thoughts to avoid showing a thoughtful expression. His mind just hardened stiffly.
"I heard you called for me."
"Ah. You're finally here. Have a seat."
Rowan sat down. Commander Gesilian placed a cup in the center of the table. And when he slowly poured liquor, Rowan grabbed the cup with his hand.
Trickle.
Rowan tensed at the sight of him pouring strangely little liquor. He thought there was some intention. But unexpected words popped out of Commander Gesilian's mouth.
"What family are you from?"
