At the center of the town, inside a large stone room, a man tilted his head back and lifted a jug high, pouring wine straight into his mouth.
"I have warned you enough. You shouldn't drink this much, Sir Gyno," someone said in a tired voice.
"Waahh!"
The man called Gyno gulped down the contents until his throat burned. Wine spilled from the corners of his lips as he lowered the jug.
"Gurryaaa!" He shook his head hard, then broke into a wild grin as he looked toward James, who stood nearby smoking quietly.
"You don't understand the beauty of chugging wine," Gyno said loudly. "That feeling of escapism is exactly what we need in this war."
James narrowed his eyes slightly but said nothing.
"This euphoria," Gyno continued, waving the empty jug, "this rush in the blood, the guts to take over enemy land and stand there proudly. This calls for celebration, right?"
He laughed, then suddenly paused and smirked.
