A Major in uniform sat beneath a dim light, eating dinner.
There were two plates on the table. One held several chunks of beef—uncut, just large, lump-like pieces.
There was no special cooking method, no butter, no tallow, and no seasoning. The beef had simply been boiled in plain water.
The other plate held some sprouted wheat.
Beside the plates was a smaller bowl containing some messy-looking dipping sauce.
The young warlord held a sharp military saber and casually cut off a piece of beef. He picked it up with his hand, dipped it in the sauce, and stuffed it into his mouth.
He put his fingers in along with it, sucked hard, then slowly pulled them back out.
That ensured no meat juices or dipping sauce remained on his fingers to diminish the satisfaction of his next bite.
Then he grabbed a handful of steamed wheat from the other plate. It had already begun to sprout and was slightly sticky.
He rubbed it between his hands, shaped it into a small ball, and stuffed it into his mouth.
Sprouted wheat had always been a delicacy reserved for the nobility in Maliro. But the old regime of Maliro had been overthrown, so whether they were nobles or not, whether they were Malori People or Maliro People, anyone could eat freshly sprouted wheat.
As long as they could afford it, they could eat it.
Someone knocked on the door. Through the wooden door assembled from planks, shadows could be seen flickering outside.
Not long afterward, the door was pushed open, and a soldier with a rifle strapped to his back stood outside.
"Major, she's here."
The Major did not even raise his head. "Let her in."
A little over a minute later, Isabella walked into the room.
She frowned slightly. She