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Poland walked slowly, his gaze fixed on the two subordinates of John ahead. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, while a storm raged within him, as if thousands of wild horses were galloping through his mind.
He reminisced about the days when he was the formidable Captain of the Gray Bear Mercenary Corps, a time filled with glory and ambition. And what of John? He was merely one of the many serfs under Poland's command, kept around for his excellent cooking skills, serving as a humble chef. Who could have predicted that the tables would turn so completely, with John now standing above him?
As memories flooded back, Poland couldn't help but let out a long sigh. He had once gone to great lengths to sell off his thirty-odd brothers to the White Family as cannon fodder, believing it would lead him to wealth and fame. What did he get in return? Just an empty title of Virtual Knight. To secure a better life, he had no choice but to align himself with Redman.
However, things did not go as planned; he received little recognition here, and the elite troops under Redman's command were far beyond his reach. What infuriated him even more was that since John's arrival, all the serf soldiers under his jurisdiction had been handed over to John without a second thought.
How could such circumstances not ignite his fury? With every step he took, his frustration grew. It was truly a case of one misstep leading to eternal regret. If only he hadn't ruthlessly sold off the Gray Bear Mercenary Corps, perhaps he could still be free and carefree today. Or if he had wholeheartedly followed Redman from the start, he might have already possessed his own knightly territory by now.
Even if it were one that would be stripped away after death due to lack of transcendent heirs, it would still be better than this. John was different; he was an Actual Knight, passing down his legacy. The only other option besides being a Virtual Knight was when Lord Ling granted a village to knights below him, giving them tax rights but no management or ownership rights, and they could not attack.
As Poland approached John's camp, he realized it wasn't far from where he stood—just a couple hundred meters apart. After all, there weren't many nobles like John with such subordinates.
Poland made an effort to adjust his facial expression, ensuring it remained friendly and inviting. Regardless of their relationship at this moment, controlling his expression accurately was crucial.
He strode confidently towards John's tent and called out loudly, "Knight John! It's me, Poland!"
As his voice echoed, John appeared at the entrance with a broad smile on his face. Although he looked cheerful on the surface, deep down, he was filled with tumultuous thoughts. What could have prompted Poland to come looking for him?
In truth, their relationship wasn't one of deep-seated hatred; it was merely a matter of historical grievances that had led them to avoid each other in the past to prevent unnecessary awkwardness.
"Ah! Mr. Poland! Your presence truly brightens my humble abode! Please, come in! Someone, quickly bring tea for Mr. Poland and some exquisite pastries!" John exclaimed with a beaming smile.
"There's no need for such fuss, Mr. John," Poland quickly waved his hand in dismissal. "I've come at Lord Redman's request to deliver gifts."
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