As an NPC, having a lot of skills is quite reasonable, right?

The snow in the courtyard seemed to be getting heavier, and the distant mountain shadows were gradually buried in the falling snowflakes.

Gray casually slapped the black letter, which could decide life or death, back onto Moen's chest and then looked away from him.

"Why don't you open it and take a look?" the old knight said casually.

Moen held the envelope, but did not act immediately.

Fishing Law Enforcement?

This was the first thought that popped into his mind.

If I open the envelope, will dozens of Judgment Knights immediately rush out and rub me to the ground?

After all, opening classified documents without authorization is a serious crime.

But then he glanced at the old man standing straight in the wind and snow in front of him.

No, if the old man wanted to, he could just press himself down in the snow with one hand; there's no need for this roundabout method.

Seeing that Moen was still hesitating, his fingers tightening and loosening around the envelope, Gray clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction:

"How can Arya still be interested in someone like you? You're so slow and hesitant to even read a letter."

"ha?"

Moen's hand, which was about to tear off the seal, froze in mid-air. He looked up abruptly and stared at Gray in astonishment.

Seeing Moen's foolish appearance, Gray snorted in annoyance, the coldness in his eyes fading considerably, replaced by the look of a disappointed elder:

"You know Arya, right? I'm that girl's mentor. I practically raised her myself."

"Ever since she returned to the Holy City, she would occasionally take out a terribly ugly painting to look at during training breaks."

At this point, Gray's eyes softened, as if he could see the decisive and efficient girl through the wind and snow.

"At her age, it's not appropriate for an old man like me to meddle in her affairs."

"Unexpectedly, I was sent to Nohanville to investigate the mess left by that idiot Cecio, and I just happened to run into you."

Gray turned his head, looking at Moen with a half-smile, the oppressive feeling in his eyes returning:

"Although I don't know if that girl likes you or not, every young man who has met my apprentice has never disliked her."

"And you're the only one she accepted a gift from. I've been observing you for several days, and you seem to be doing quite well."

Gray was probably referring to how, when Moen went out for a stroll every day, he would also visit the civilians who had been exploited by Cecio, and of course, comfort the little girl who was always looking for the big pineapple.

Moen then realized what was going on.

So all this commotion, with the previous threats and the midnight wall-climbing incident, turns out it was the father stepping in to keep an eye on his daughter?

Moen smiled sheepishly; he had mastered the art of taking advantage of others.

Given their relationship with Arya, calling him "sir" would be too formal. Moreover, after careful analysis, Moen could tell that Gray was a straightforward person, and that the respectful and humble approach wouldn't work.

"So it's Old Master Gray." Moen changed his form of address and no longer hesitated, deftly tearing open the envelope.

Using the reflection from the snow, he could see what was inside.

There was no arrest warrant, but rather a "Letter of Appointment for Special Investigator".

The content is roughly as follows: In view of the fact that Bishop François Valen took the initiative to report that the presiding judge of Nohanville, Cecio Hart, was suspected of conducting forbidden necromancy experiments, the Holy Knight Grey has been specially appointed to take full control of this place and thoroughly investigate the matter.

"This has nothing to do with me, right?" Moen breathed a sigh of relief.

Cecio not only died, but was also nailed to the pillar of shame, while Moen once again became the hero who saved Nohanville!

Seeing Moen's relieved and relaxed expression, Gray's admiration deepened.

What he truly appreciated was Moen's attitude towards him—not respect for him as a Holy Knight, but pure respect for the strong, which suited him perfectly.

"Sit down." Gray plopped down on the snow-covered stone steps in the courtyard, not minding the dirt, and patted the empty seat next to him.

Moen didn't stand on ceremony and sat down as well.

The old knight pulled out a flat wine jug that had been rubbed until it shone brightly from behind his back.

The wine jug had a rough design, with several wolf totems engraved on it. Although the workmanship was intended to imitate the wild style of the North, it was still slightly inferior to the ones Moen remembered seeing.

This flask was custom-made by an old blacksmith in the Holy City, based on the style of his father's flask from his memory.

"Want a sip? This is authentic Wolf Blood Wine." Gray shook the flask.

"Every winter, I would come here under the guise of patrolling to purchase a batch of wolf blood wine that was transported from the War Palace, since this place is the closest to that place."

"I was held up by something this year, so I asked Arya to buy a batch for me, but I didn't expect that kind of thing to happen."

Moen took the flask and tilted his head back to take a big gulp.

"Hiss! Cough cough cough!" The spicy liquid rolled down his throat and exploded in his stomach.

It was the right decision not to drink it at the hotel. This isn't wine; it's practically liquid fire. It has no aftertaste whatsoever, only the rawest intensity.

Moen choked so badly that he stuck out his tongue, and tears were almost streaming down his face.

"Hahahaha!" Gray laughed thunderously at Moen's disheveled appearance, a laugh he rarely had in the Holy City.

"How was it? More potent than your sissy red wine, isn't it?"

The two sat side by side under the eaves, each holding a wine jug, their eyes fixed on the distant outline of the snow-capped mountains that were faintly visible in the night, and on the increasingly heavy snowfall.

Perhaps because he had been in the Holy City for too long, Gray had no one to talk to, and Arya was not a good person to confide in.

But Moen is different. After the test just now, he was actually satisfied with Moen's performance, and he also had Arya's trust as a foundation.

Since Moen wasn't a member of the church, this allowed Gray to finally open up and say what he had been holding back for so long.

"A vast expanse of white snow." Gray looked at the snow falling all around him, his eyes gradually becoming hazy, as if he had traveled through time back to that snowy night forty years ago when he broke with his family.

"You'll never see snow this white in the Holy City. The snow there gets smoky from the steam towers or blackened by the hands of those big shots before it even hits the ground."

He sighed, a hint of regret in his voice: "This place feels like my hometown, but unfortunately, I probably won't be able to go back in this lifetime."

Moen turned his head to look at the old man's profile.

At this moment, Gray was no longer the majestic Holy Knight, but just an ordinary old man rambling on about the sorrows that were bottled up inside him and had nowhere to go.

Moen grabbed the flask, ignoring how spicy it was, and took another big gulp. Then, suppressing a cough, he exhaled a puff of white air: "If I can't go back, I won't. Where can't the yellow earth bury people? As long as I drink to my heart's content and have people I care about, anywhere is home."

Gray paused for a moment, then turned to look at Moen, a glint of light flashing in his pale gray eyes.

He saw a certain quality in Moen.

Maybe this kid really can do that thing for me...