The conversation ended on a happy note. Vailton Barov had found a chance to grow stronger and had decided to follow Liam for the time being. Liam had put on that whole performance to bring the scheming boy, who craved power above all else, close to him—a useful vessel for putting his own strength to work. By all appearances, he had more or less succeeded. As long as he handled things carefully from now on, he needn't worry about Vailton pulling any tricks.
What surprised Liam most was that after all that hypocritical "heart-to-heart," Vailton, his "attendant," had somehow gained five loyalty points, bringing his loyalty to 39!
Looking at the other man's loyalty score, now above one-third, Liam shook his head with a wry smile. He couldn't make heads or tails of how loyalty was measured.
That silly bird Coral's loyalty rose whenever Liam gave him something tasty, but dropped whenever he sent him to fight someone. Its graph looked like a stock market chart, with remarkably steady fluctuations.
But Vailton Barov was different. His loyalty hadn't changed when Liam gave him power, nor had it changed during their journey, even though Liam had treated him with courtesy. Instead, just now, after the two of them had tried to outdo each other in acting and lied to each other, Vailton—who had been completely impervious to kindness—had quietly gained five points of favorability. Liam found the whole thing both baffling and amusing.
Could it be that "bad guys" have different standards for loyalty? Or does everyone have their own way of judging it? If that's the case, this is going to be a headache...
If he couldn't figure it out, there was no point dwelling on it. As his followers grew in number, he'd eventually understand.
They had said all there was to say, and Vailton stopped holding back. He and Liam turned their attention to the food on the table and began to wolf it down. He had suffered quite a bit on Atonement Island, where he'd been lucky just to get enough to eat each day. Now that he saw a table full of delicacies, he forgot all about his former noble manners.
Liam, on the other hand, wasn't a poor wretch eating as though possessed by a hungry ghost. He had plenty of good food stored in his space, more than he could finish anytime soon. So as he ate, he also kept an ear out for the loud conversations among the many patrons in the tavern.
At the table in the center of the room, a man missing half his left forearm was loudly bragging to his companions about his exploits fighting the Orcs.
"Every one of those green-skinned monsters was as tall as a yeti and as stout as an ox. When they raised those huge axes, they looked like little trees. There were ten of us in my squad, all trainee Warriors, and we only managed to take down three of them. The biggest one leading them? I traded an arm for the chance to land a sword strike and cut his head off. That battle... I still dream about it sometimes."
"Then you must've made quite a contribution, brother. How come you never got yourself a little official post?" one of the men beside him teased.
"An official post, my ass! That damned King of Lordaeron even took away the bit of land I was given, to build some kind of prison camp for those green skins. The few gold coins they gave me weren't even enough to pay for my drinks!"
The burly man was clearly bitter, apparently unhappy with the recent changes in Southshore. He spoke without a filter, but his drinking companions were alarmed. They hurriedly tried to hush him and change the subject.
"Shh, keep your voice down. Alterac is gone; we're all people of Lordaeron now. Those workers building the castle might hear you and come looking for trouble."
As he spoke, he glanced at the two tables nearby, where a dozen or so men dressed like laborers were sitting. They were presumably the people sent over to build the castle.
"I'm not afraid of them! I was born a subject of the Kingdom of Stormwind, and I'll die a dead man of the Kingdom of Stormwind! I heard Prince Varian—no, King Varian—has finished rebuilding Stormwind City. I'm going home in a few days. I'd rather build a subway for those dwarves than put up with this shit!"
The burly man had clearly had a lot to drink. The more his companions tried to calm him down, the louder he got. In the end, he slumped forward onto the table and passed out, finally allowing his drinking buddies to breathe a sigh of relief.
Watching a veteran who'd fought on the battlefield end up like this left Liam feeling wistful. There was no such thing as a just war. There weren't that many "idiotic" big shots fighting one another yet, and everyone was a victim of the Burning Legion's schemes. But no matter the cause, it was always the common people who suffered. That would never change.
Unfortunately, with his strength as it was, Liam could only watch. He couldn't help at all. At that moment, he wanted power even more. First, he'd wipe out those few lunatics who were hell-bent on destroying the world. Then, whatever their race, anyone with a grievance could be tossed somewhere deserted to fight it out themselves. Anyone who refused to listen could get a beating until they came around. That would keep those so-called heroes from stirring up trouble just because they had nothing better to do.
"Stormwind City... There are only five years of peace left, really..."
He knew the Stormwind City unrest would erupt within a few years of the city's reconstruction, and that turmoil would continue without end. But Liam couldn't tell anyone about it. He could only pray the old soldier wouldn't get caught up in the chaos and would get to spend the rest of his life in Stormwind City, just as he wished.
The loudest table in the tavern fell suddenly silent when the one-armed man passed out. It was as if the whole tavern had gone mute, making the hushed conversations all the easier for Liam to hear.
"Hey, have you heard? Someone from the third team went missing again yesterday. Vanished without a trace. They say those bandits who rob travelers took him away to work as a laborer."
The low murmur caught Liam's attention at once.
"That's the thirteenth person to go missing. The people in charge keep saying they were tired and ran home, but it's been so long without a word from any of them. I knew the man who went missing yesterday. He was the most honest, hardworking fellow around. He could do the work of three men by himself. There's no way he'd desert."
"Don't go spreading that around. We're laborers, not soldiers. Deserters get their heads chopped off."
"Yeah, that's right. Don't say any more. Let's drink."
The men nearby clearly didn't want to keep discussing the matter, and they all raised their cups. But the one who'd said he knew the missing man wasn't ready to let it go. He continued telling his story.
"See? I knew you wouldn't believe me! I'm telling the truth. The two men I ran into when I went out to piss in the middle of the night last time were kidnapping people. If the Holy Light hadn't protected me, they would've taken me too."
"Bringing up that old story again? We don't even tease you about sleepwalking and wetting your pants, and you keep dragging it back up yourself."
A man beside him interrupted, making everyone burst into laughter. The laborer turned red in the face and shouted,
"Don't you dare say I'm lying! I was terrified at the time, so my head wasn't clear, but later I remembered everything. There were two guys in black clothes tight against their bodies, with orange cloth covering their faces. They came to grab me, but somehow someone slit both their throats. Blood sprayed everywhere..."
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