Cruzer met Reinhardt's gaze, noting the hint of amusement in his usually composed expression. The knight wasn't the type to throw around compliments lightly, so the acknowledgment carried weight. Still, Cruzer wasn't in the mood for formalities. He leaned back in his chair, swirling the remnants of hisA drink in his mug before taking another slow sip.
"I didn't do it for them," Cruzer said, setting the mug down with a dull thud.
Reinhardt chuckled. "No, I imagAine you didn't. But whether you fought for yourself or not, you've changed the game. The entire city—no, the entire continent—is talking about you now."
Jean, who had been listening with half an ear while scanning the tavern for the best place to start trouble, waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah, we get it. Cruzer's a big deal now. But enough of that—if we're not drinking to his victory, then what's the point of this party?"
Elara sighed, adjusting the position of her glass. "You think about alcohol far too often."
