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Bertrand! Everyone in the tavern widened their eyes.

This famous archery expert is renowned in the Count Glamorgan's domain. Ever since he surrendered to Count Laine, he has repeatedly made accomplishments on the battlefield, especially in the war against the Beastmen. Bertrand often becomes the key to victory on the battlefield—his archery skills are so formidable that during critical moments, he can always snatch victory for the human army by taking out the enemy leaders.

After surrendering, Bertrand was continuously promoted by Laine, rising from the rank of company leader of the archers to company commander, and then further to deputy battalion commander of the Charon Forest Patrol Battalion, with an annual salary of thirty Gold Crowns. Bertrand earned the respect of everyone in the domain through his prowess, and even some Master Knights would occasionally chat with him.

As a result, Bertrand gradually acquired a nickname, "Green Arrow Bertrand," meaning he always liked wearing green cloaks and tights, and his precise archery could rival that of the Wood Elf.

"Alright, coming right up, anything else?" The proprietress Matty quickly nodded, smiling obsequiously, nearly bowing: "It's really an honor for someone as esteemed as you to grace our little establishment."

"Ha~ It's nothing special, I'm used to it." Bertrand had two long sideburns, and he tossed a Silver Coin that landed on the bar. The proprietress's speed was comparable to the swiftest of Wanderers, as her hand swept over the bar, leaving the greasy countertop looking untouched.

The tavern hummed with whispers until a drunkard took the initiative to speak up.

"Bertrand! Are you about to be promoted to a Knight?"

"Bertrand! Will you still remember us commoners once you become a Knight?"

"Can you buy me a drink, Bertrand? I'm out of money."

Faced with the continuous questions from the crowd, Bertrand laughed heartily: "Haha~ It's not that easy. Do you think being a Master Knight is so simple? Do you think just because the Lady of the Lake issues an Oracle, everyone has a chance to become a Master Knight? Wake up, there are only three spots a year! You should consider whether your own performance can catch Count Laine's eye!"

"I never said I could, we just think you have a chance!" A scruffy, long-bearded drunkard said, somewhat indignantly: "I say, just buy me a pint of ale, I won't ask for anything else."

"Hey, you old guy, you're just worried about your nearly empty mug!" Bertrand cursed a few times, then sat down beside Remon.

The proprietress immediately came over and filled Bertrand's mug to the brim with Imperial Black Beer, so full it was nearly overflowing.

Remon was a bit displeased that his moment was overshadowed by Bertrand, but he truly had nothing to compare to Bertrand. Though young and a bit hot-headed, he knew he was just a soldier under the Count, not even having the status of a Free Person. The young man could only drink his beer quietly.

Beer is always consumed quickly. Remon, without realizing it, found that his large wooden beer mug, capable of holding several hundred milliliters, was already empty. The Count's Halberdier lifted the cup and then put it down.

The proprietress promptly noticed Remon's predicament and walked over to the young man with a smile: "Customer, would you like a refill?"

"Um..." Remon was suddenly caught in a dilemma. He had planned to drink one big mug of Imperial Black Beer, but if he ordered a second one, it would mean spending another eighty Copper Coins. Though the pay for the Halberdier was decent, money shouldn't be spent so frivolously.

Having grown up in poverty and barely escaping with his elderly mother and younger brother, Remon understood the importance of frugality. But the young man's pride made it hard for him to give in. The proprietress implied that he either needed to refill his drink or prepare to leave; after all, lingering after finishing your drink was against common etiquette.

Many patrons chuckled secretly, knowing this Count's soldier was still too young and naive. For seasoned patrons, it's common knowledge that to stay longer, you should leave about a third to a quarter of your drink in the mug.

While Remon was wrestling with whether to spend another Silver Coin for a refill, Bertrand took out another Silver Coin, pointing at Remon beside him: "Matty, give this young brother a refill!"

"Another Imperial Black Beer?" Matty was intrigued, the proprietress didn't care who paid, as long as someone was paying, she would pour.

"Sure, another Imperial Black Beer."

Remon's mug was filled again, and the young man always had the illusion that the refill was more generous than the first.

"Why are you buying me this drink?" Remon didn't rush to drink like many drunkards; instead, he frowned: "I think I don't know you... or you don't know me, Mr. Bertrand."

"You know me... and I know you, you're the one from up north who joined the Count's Long Halberd Battalion." Bertrand made a gesture.

The gesture was obvious, a runaway peasant.

Brittania knew that many peasants had become runaways and come south. Knight King Richard intended to send someone to investigate, but with the Chaos Invasion and the death of tens of thousands, the Kingdom's attention was focused on resisting the Barbarian invasion.

When Laine killed Egil and repelled the Barbarian, the northern Dukes could only accept the losses in silence because the best time to investigate had passed, and after the heavy casualties among civilians, investigations proved impossible. Many matters became muddled accounts.