"Nothing. Like all other villagers, he got nothing. We are not knights nor warriors who can use mana. Our lives were disposable. Our death didn't matter, nor did our contribution," Hiding his pain, Moss said.
'Maybe he has a reason to climb the social ladder,'
Zephyr thought, seeing the vulnerable side of Moss.
Zephyr came from a line of mages. He had always felt assured that he would be able to use magic, even if it was as a knight rather than a mage. He had a clear path in front of him.
However, Moss was not like that. He was a man from a village without any backing, and he had no clue if he even possessed any talent.
Yet, just like the original Zephyr, who ran away from home to become a mage, this young man was also trying his best to survive. Though the method he chose was questionable, he had every reason to do it. After all, who wants to be treated like a disposable pawn?
While Zephyr was thinking, Moss composed himself and continued.
