In Pendor's low-martial, low-magic world, if a mercenary could spend thirty years in the trade and ultimately become a Mercenary Cavalry Commander, that was absolutely something to bring honor and glory to his ancestors. He could boast about it in the taverns of countless cities for many years.
Alec was such a man, even if he had fallen on hard times by now.
He had lost one eye and been forced to retire from his company. He had spent his whole life confiding in the tavern girls without ever starting a family, and now that he was old, he did not even have the right to coax his grandchildren.
All he could do was keep drinking murky black ale in the taverns, reminiscing about everything in the past amid the din.
To be fair, no mercenary company captain would hire Old Alec anymore, just as no young woman would willingly come over to him. After all, the old fellow was so destitute that he could not even afford mead.
When Zhang Yang hired Old Alec, he had already spent almost all the savings of his first half-century. He had sold his armor, weapons, and mount—all of them—and had become a drunken old madman through and through. If Zhang Yang had not possessed the Wanderer System, allowing him to see the old fellow's identity at a glance, he certainly would not have hired him.
He spent a thousand Silver Denars, then equipped the old fellow with armor, weapons, and a Death Knight Warhorse.
Yes, it was the mount of that slain Black Knight. The warhorse was so tall, mighty, and strong that even Zhang Yang's level-six riding skill could not handle it.
But Old Alec was different. Even while drunk, he could control the Death Knight Warhorse and make it gallop