After Zayden finished discussing with the border security knights’ leader, he returned to his tent.
He leaned against a tree nearby, recalling his conversation with Sir John.
Was it truly possible that Hianshu used magic to send a horse to Revhara?
There was no rider on it or in the area. Almost as if a rider never existed.
"And if it’s the temple’s doing..." he mumbled. But shook his head immediately. "They aren’t foolish enough to break the fragile peace we have now with such an obvious scheme..."
Lost in thought, he didn’t notice how empty his stomach felt—until it growled loud enough to break the quiet of the night.
He sighed, not just from hunger but also exhaustion. He hadn’t slept properly last night because Hannah lectured him. Then, he studied dragon eggs to make sure it would hatch well even without its mother by its side.
"Should eat something first," he grumbled, walking toward the bag lying on the grass. He picked it up and rummaged through it, trying to find something to eat.
A pair of scissors. A notebook. A pen. A few envelopes. And sandwiches.
"Sandwiches?" He grimaced. "Who the heck prepared this good-for-nothing food? It has nothing good to eat..."
He dropped the bag on the floor.
Then, his gaze fell on the empty tent. He remembered telling his attendant to sleep there. Did he not listen to him?
Before he began searching for his attendant, he heard a low rustle coming from the oak tree a few inches away.
A silhouette in the dark. There was no light to show who it was.
Zayden reached for the hilt of his sword, ready to strike.
Then, the low light from his tent brightened the figure approaching him.
Ren stepped out of the shadows, drawing closer.
"Are you hungry?" He asked.
"Go to sleep," Zayden replied.
He wasn’t heartless enough to ask the person who walked and carried all his supplies all day to arrange food for him at night.
Ren didn’t say anything. Instead, he walked away. Zayden followed him, making sure he returned to sleep. However, Ren walked deeper into the woods.
"Where do you think you are going?! Do you want to be killed by wild animals?! Weren’t you the one who told me that it’s dangerous?!" He shouted but Ren ignored him, as if he had turned deaf.
Once his shadow disappeared into the darkness, Zayden sighed.
"Whatever, if you get killed, you’re responsible," he stepped into his tent.
He put his scabbard aside and laid on his back, closing his eyes, his hands on the sides. He tossed around for a long time. But he couldn’t sleep.
"That fool!" He mumbled. "He better—"
Zayden furrowed his eyebrows.
"An animal?" He whispered to himself.
He quickly exited the tent, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, only to find Ren standing before him.
His long silver hair blew on his face, dishevelled. Mud and leaves were scattered across his body. In his hands, fresh and ripe red tomatoes, red onions, and leaves. And an injury on his left arm.
"Did you go to a battlefield or something? Where did you get this injury from?" Zayden shook his head. "I told you to sleep. Should have listened to your master."
"Oh..." Ren looked at his right hand.
Then turned his left hand, and that’s where the injury was.
"I got scratched by a tree," he blankly looked at his wound, blood dripping from it.
"It’s clearly an animal’s doing. Look at the claw marks," Zayden frowned.
Ren still didn’t answer. He kept quiet, and it began testing Zayden’s patience.
The servant sat on the grass as it was a marbled floor. He picked two rocks, creating a faint fire, slowly heating the leaves in his hands.
"Your sword," he finally spoke, extending his hand behind without looking at Zayden.
Although unsure, he pulled out his blade from his scabbard, placing it in Ren’s palm. Even if this servant tried to attack him, he could use his magic to stop him.
Ren cut the onions, the tomatoes into small cube pieces with the sword as if he’d done it countless times. Then, he put the sword on the ground.
He placed the mixture inside the leaves, and rolled it. He made another few rolls. He blew out the fire, and a burning smell spread from the smoke.
The young servant extended the rolls towards his master, looking up into his eyes.
"No," Zayden shook his head. "I’m not this cursed-looking thing."
"At least try it," he said, unbothered by his words although it would have hurt anyone if they had worked so hard for something and were refused.
Zayden’s gaze fell on his injury.
He got hurt because I was hungry...
He grunted, taking a roll from his hand. He bit into the soft leaf that had turned similar to the texture of a bread, but salty. He looked at Ren, surprised.
"Elfen leaves?" He demanded.
Elfen leaves—leaves that were found in the deep forest or near an elf village. Once they were heated by fire, their size and thickness would increase, similar to a bread’s texture, and naturally contained salt.
"Where did you go?" He sat in his tent, eating the roll.
Zayden’s lips twitched into a forced smile.
"How far is not far?"
Ren didn’t respond for a moment.
"You’re good," Zayden nodded in agreement. "A better attendant than I expected."
Ren looked at him, parting his lips.
"Then... I wish for a thousand shirings monthly as my salary."
For a moment, Zayden was dumbfounded.
"What did you say?" He asked, almost certain he misheard.
"I said, I wish to be paid a thousand shirings monthly," he paused. "As my salary."
Zayden almost choked on his food. He swallowed first before talking.
"What are you saying? I feed you, give you clothes, and a roof to live under. Yet, you demand such a large amount of shirings for your salary?"
Ren stared at him, no emotion showing on his face.
"Are you... perhaps, poor, My Lord?"
He had just picked a nerve.
Poor? General Zayden? He possessed one-third of the empire’s wealth and mines that were worth more than his wealth. If he was poor the...
"I am not," he forced a smile, masking his fury. He didn’t know how a servant could wish for such a high salary. Usually, attendants are paid five hundred dollars monthly and that was enough to buy themselves a house and food for the month. "But your pay will be five hundred. Commoners’ minimum salary is one hundred fifty. Don’t try to take advantage just because I complimented your work."
After saying so, Zayden didn’t wait for Ren’s answer. He immediately entered his rent, zipping it.
"So... the minimum wage is one hundred fifty... I asked too much..." Ren mumbled to himself. "Well, at least he didn’t fire me because of it," he sighed.
Then, his gaze fell on his wounded arm.
"That wild fox..." he mumbled, wiping his blood with his sleeve.