"Wheat bread is truly mellow and delicious."
Punk sat at an old, worn dining table, carefully using a knife to cut his bread into near-perfect squares.
"You are quite accustomed to refined dining, Your Excellency."
The baron set down his fork gently, the iron prongs touching the plate without making a sound.
The polite exchange between the two seemed to bore Kane.
Though his father's presence kept him from interrupting outright, his impatience showed in the way he handled his food.
Using almost imperceptible movements, he reduced the bread on his plate to fine crumbs.
Punk, observing from the corner of his eye, couldn't help but question the contrast between the father and son.
"Are they really related? Their temperaments are worlds apart."
Yet, a more interesting detail caught his attention—despite Kane's reckless-seeming speed, his knife never scraped the plate.
Every motion was controlled, precise, and eerily silent.
"Let's see how long they can keep up this little act."
Punk subtly cast a Lesser Poison Detection spell before eating.
Only a cautious mage survives long.
He had always been careful.
However, as he put a piece of the cubed bread into his mouth, he noticed Kane pause momentarily, as if realizing the spell's activation.
Punk remained unfazed, chewing the bread with deliberate slowness.
A rich wheat aroma, carrying a faint hint of earth, spread across his tongue.
Despite the bread's hardness, its fine particles dissolved smoothly, releasing a subtle sweetness.
He had to admit—his appreciation for the taste wasn't just for show.
Since the bread was indeed enjoyable, Punk simply ignored Kane's reaction and the baron's patient stare.
He cut another piece and continued savoring his meal, unhurried and undisturbed.
Time stretched on in awkward silence.
Kane, having lost interest in his own bread, had taken to carving a small squirrel figurine from the remaining crust.
Only when Punk finished did the baron finally speak again.
"Your Excellency, you plan to travel to Konora, yes?
It is the nearest city, but you'll have to cross a vast wasteland to get there."
"Indeed. I've heard the food there is quite renowned, and I've long wished to visit.
To think I would first taste such fine bread here... it only heightens my anticipation."
Punk offered a slight smile.
"That much is true. The food of Konora City is delicious and distinct.
I visited once in my youth and still remember it fondly."
The baron ran his fingers along the table's edge, a distant look in his eyes.
"Please! That place is only famous for its overpriced shaluo pig leather."
Kane's complaint broke the momentary sentimentality.
Both Punk and the baron turned their gazes toward him.
"..."
"..."
Under their silent scrutiny, Kane seemed to regret his outburst.
After a moment of hesitation, he ducked his head and resumed carving the squirrel.
The atmosphere became embarrassingly still.
"My eldest son will also be traveling to Konora soon.
Perhaps you could journey together?"
the baron finally suggested.
Punk frowned.
The offer was abrupt—too abrupt.
He and Kane barely understood each other, and to be frank, he held more wariness than goodwill toward the reckless knight.
Yet, the baron spoke as if such cooperation was natural.
Kane, too, was visibly displeased.
Crossing his arms, he scowled at his father with a look that all but said,
"Are you serious?"
"Perhaps Baron Besadas is unfamiliar with the strength of professionals, but for a simple wasteland, an apprentice-level mage is more than capable of ensuring his own safety."
Punk kept his tone tactful.
"Perhaps Master Punk is unfamiliar with the recent state of the Mord Wasteland."
The baron's voice carried an unmistakable hint of irony.
"But I have heard concerning rumors... whispers of undead appearing.
In such cases, additional protection would be wise, no?"
Undead?
Punk ignored the baron's veiled mockery and instead combed through his knowledge.
There were three primary sources of undead:
Those created by necromancers or other professionals through spells and rituals.
Their strength depended entirely on their creator.
Those originating from the Plane of Undeath.
While dangerous, their presence on the Material Plane was rare unless specific conditions were met.
Those formed naturally from negative energy gathering around lingering souls, such as ghosts and wraiths.
These were typically weak and more suited to terrifying common folk than posing a true threat.
"But even if the rumors are exaggerated," Punk thought,
"a single eroded forest suggests nothing beyond apprentice-level strength."
Kane, meanwhile, had no such concerns.
"Look, old man, whatever undead there are, we just need to avoid them.
Besides, I cultivate Bright Qi. Those rotten bones wouldn't stand a chance!"
With that, he casually gathered a trace of qi at his fingertip and carved a tiny swordsman into the wooden table with ease.
Punk ignored Kane's bravado and turned back to the baron.
"When exactly did your friend send this information?"
"If I've calculated correctly, he should have already returned to Konora City,"
the baron answered.
"But my friend is a humble merchant—he has no wealth, no power, and certainly no status.
Even if he reports his findings, I doubt the clergy would spare him a second glance."
Punk's hopes of the church stepping in vanished before they could fully form.
The baron, it seemed, was aware of that expectation and had dismissed it outright.
"This region is quite remote," the baron continued, sighing.
"My old friend is one of the few who frequently travels through here.
He has a habit of sticking his nose where it doesn't belong...
If there really is danger, I fear he may already be in over his head."
Punk made no comment.
Frankly, he couldn't care less about some nosy merchant's fate.
Kane, too, only grumbled half-hearted acknowledgments, clearly uninterested.
Still, Punk gave the matter some serious thought.
He wasn't an arrogant mage who believed himself invincible.
If a true threat awaited in the wasteland, having a combat-focused ally would increase his chances of survival.
And in the worst case—if an enemy was beyond their capabilities—Kane would make an excellent distraction.
When Punk met Kane's gaze, he realized the knight was thinking the exact same thing.
"Then let's have a pleasant cooperation," Punk finally said with a smile.
Kane only shrugged in response, his expression neither approving nor rejecting the arrangement.