386 Prince Versus Prince

Moonlight shone through the window, which was only covered by a few pieces of plank. It illuminated the face of the thirty-something-year-old mercenary before Thales' eyes. He had stubble all over his chin, an apathetic gaze, and a relaxed posture. There was a cold hint of a smile at the corners of his lips.

His leather armor was fastened to his upper body, and he never took it off even when he slept. It was covered in scratches and seemed like it had gone through a lot of hardships with its owner while he moved all about the peninsular. Tied to the armor were the various tools mercenaries carried with them: a pocket knife, scissors, bandages, hemostatic powder, ropes, flint stone, and tinder…

'How did he survive all these years?

'From a prince to…'

Thales stared quietly at him, at the tough-looking man who seemed like he had gone through quite a lot.

"So, it is indeed you?

"Prince Moriah?" he asked faintly.

There was silence...