53: Bitch, Be Humble!

"The stronghold isn't a sanctuary for commoners," Val voiced. He was ever the realist, acutely aware of the lurking dangers within the fortified walls that offered a deceptive sense of security.

"But it's still safer than the refugee camps established outside the strongholds." She countered his claim, her voice as strong as her conviction. Her words rang true. In comparison to the lawless zones that the refugees had been pushed into, the stronghold was a veritable fortress.

"I guess that's true," Val conceded, his voice barely a whisper, his agreement getting lost in the ambient noise of the bustling marketplace.

Meanwhile, the maiden served him his requested tea, pouring the hot liquid into a simple clay cup. As she set the cup down, she noticed him staring intently at her. His penetrating gaze made her feel self-conscious, prompting her to query, "Sir, is there something on my face?"