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It was a bountiful year.

As soon as they returned to their quarters, Jaxen handed over some ointment.

The ointment, which was in a small wooden container, was applied evenly all over Enkrid’s body by Finn, and the bandages were wrapped by Krais.

“I thought I was going straight to the grave,” Krais said, skillfully wrapping the bandages.

“I was taking it easy while doing it,” Enkrid responded.

Krais let out a bewildered chuckle at Enkrid’s words.

“Did you not see that woman’s forearm? It was thicker than our brother’s,” Krais said, glancing at Audin.

In other words, if he saw that and still said he was ‘taking it easy,’ what was he talking about?

“Arm thickness doesn’t prove skill,” Enkrid said, without changing his expression. He didn’t seem bothered by the pain of his injuries.

“Let’s not talk about it.”

Krais made a gesture with his eyes and removed his hands. The dangerous wounds had mostly been tended to.

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