The sergeant ignored the stares, and locked his eyes on a table where two corporals belonging to Spino’s 21^st Corps sat talking quietly. He made his way across the room and sat across the table from the two corporals. The men were among those few who had not bothered to gaze upon the newcomer, and they were so deep into their discussion that they did not even acknowledge the sergeant’s arrival at their table. The sergeant sat quietly, listening to the conversation that centered on the coming war. He did not offer his own thoughts. Indeed, he purposely appeared not to be listening, a man lost in his own thoughts. The serving girl came by, and the sergeant ordered a pitcher of mountain ale. That simple act caught the attention of his two table-mates. The corporals looked across the table, seemingly noticing the sergeant for the first time.

“Gold to burn?” asked one of the corporals.

“What’s an Ertakan doing in Valdo?” asked the other.

The sergeant raised his eyes from the table to look at the two corporals. He smiled thinly at their comments.

“Valdo has always had the best ale,” he commented. “Besides, the gold is not mine. Why shouldn’t I enjoy the best?”

The serving girl returned with the pitcher of special ale and set it down on the table. The sergeant filled his mug and casually waved towards the pitcher.

“You are welcome to share my ale if you wish,” he offered.

The two corporals looked at each another with skeptical expressions.

“What’s the catch?” one of the corporals asked.

“No catch,” smiled the sergeant. “I travel frequently from Farmin to Despair, and the colonel gives me a generous travel allowance. I always try to stop in Valdo on the way through. Drink up and enjoy yourselves.”

Both of the corporals smiled broadly and filled their mugs.

“We don’t often meet friendly Ertakans,” offered one of the corporals. “Be careful or you will spoil your country’s reputation.”