At those words, the knight who had brought the report immediately looked displeased.
Suppressing his complaints, he mustered the courage to argue:
"Captain, since you've already confirmed that those refugees were telling the truth, there's no need for us to go to that damned Fog Town, is there?"
"We've successfully completed our mission in the secret realm. His Excellency the Archbishop is still waiting in the city for our report!"
"It's only a few dead Novice Knights. They're dead, so what? Knights die in monsters' jaws out in the wilderness every day!"
"Do we really need to waste our time and energy collecting the bodies of those idiots?"
The knight gritted his teeth and played his final trump card:
"Besides, if the Archbishop finds out about this..."
"The Archbishop hates this sort of pointless compassion more than anything! If some trivial matter delays the delivery of our spoils from the secret realm, none of us can bear his wrath!"
Knight Viel stood nearby without speaking, but his eyes were filled with agreement.
In the eyes of these Winterhold elites, who believed they had limitless prospects ahead of them,
Novice Knights were cannon fodder, and Fog Town's refugees were no better than pigs and dogs.
Wasting time on a backwater town and a squad of fallen cannon fodder was utterly absurd!
The candle flame inside the room flickered violently.
Kairils said nothing.
He merely turned his head, his Ice Blue eyes resting quietly on the disgruntled subordinate before him.
His gaze was as still as mystic ice that had remained frozen for ten thousand years, without even a ripple of anger.
Yet that very stillness sent an inexplicable shudder through the knight's heart, forcing the rest of his words to stick in his throat.
In an instant!
"Bam!!!"
A dull, thunderous