"Ehehe, chicken soup is here."
The night was like water, somewhat chilly, but Madlan's voice felt so warm.
He carried a large pot of chicken soup, taking quick little steps into the room known as the dining hall, which was actually a scriptorium.
The rich aroma of the chicken soup wafted out from the gaps of the pot lid, causing the noses of the high-ranking bishops from Pope Country to twitch slightly.
Placing the chicken soup on the five-meter-long writing table, Madlan wiped his hands with his apron and looked around: "Drink it, why aren't you drinking?"
"Jeska, take a seat, let's have a sip of soup first," Horn smiled and explained to the bishops present, "I specially ordered this from the kitchen as a midnight snack to treat everyone."
Standing by the map on the wall, Jeska obediently sat down at the table.
Picking up the ceramic bowl and ladling out a bowl of soup, Madlan offered it to Jeska: "Here, drink it while it's hot."
