True

Hearthglen was one of the few places where the sights of old Lordaeron could still be seen. During the day, it brimmed with life, but once night fell, it sank into silence with the dusk.

The blacksmith shops, stores, and other places had already closed. Only the inn's door remained open. The innkeeper was dozing at the counter, utterly unaware that someone had slipped inside. The smell of sweat in the air merely made him scratch his nose uncomfortably.

The hair of the person who had sneaked in looked like a wet, tangled rag, greasy strands hanging over his shoulders. He merely glanced around to make sure no one had seen him, then darted up to the second floor as fast as he could and rushed into one of the rooms without a second thought.

A steaming bowl of meat soup and some bread still sat on the small table in the room. More importantly, someone was already waiting for him.

Compared to this man, the person waiting for him wore striking, glorious silver-white armor. He was also older.

"Stephan?"

"Larein."

The two men, who had not seen each other in a long time, embraced tightly.

They were both paladins, but their attire was vastly different. Larein had carefully groomed himself, while Stephan looked like a fool. After looking each other over and seeing such a huge contrast, they both laughed.

"How did you end up like this?" Larein touched Stephan's filthy casual clothes. He wore a wrinkled white coat covered in mud, paired with loose linen trousers and a tattered belt. A worn-out hood that looked as though it had been found in a rubbish heap stuck out of one of his pockets. His boots, however, looked rather exquisite, so he had smeared some mud over them.

"There were