To be honest, aside from the first taste going down like alcohol, the rest tasted like the expensive beverages Cain had drunk at Bolanis noble banquets.
Calling these things alcohol would be less accurate than calling them a substitute drink.
"I never knew there was a place like this here."
"Old Jock's place isn't really a bar. It's just a small gathering where soldiers entertain themselves," Cain answered Erika's question. "Besides, you've been busy keeping an eye on me."
Cain laughed as he said that. He thought it was a joke Erika would understand, considering she had been the one to order his imprisonment.
Erika tilted her head at him, clearly failing to understand that Cain had made a joke. Cain could see his own foolish grin reflected in the lenses of her gas mask, and the awkwardness made him cough twice.
Only silence lay between them. Cain drank by himself, while Erika, still wearing her gas mask, stared at him without blinking.
That unblinking gaze made Cain uncomfortable. Even the drink in his hand no longer seemed so appealing, but fortunately, someone came to his rescue.
The tent flap was lifted again. A synchronized stomp of military boots rang out, and the conversations inside the tent fell silent as everyone turned toward the entrance.
A group of Krieg soldiers entered, six in all, arranged neatly in pairs. To Cain, there was no difference whatsoever between these Krieg soldiers in their heavy greatcoats and gas masks.
"They're sisters."
"What?" Cain hadn't caught Erika's sudden remark, so she repeated herself.
Sisters? Cain raised an eyebrow as he watched the six figures find seats. Their steps were almost perfectly synchronized, and each sat ramrod straight. They did not look like they had come here to relax in the slightest.
The others whispered