human
Al:  If this was a person he could afford to be rude to, he would have already escaped out the door long ago.
gpt
Lyp:  “You’re late.” He repeated the rebuke without changing a word. Filled with contempt, the gravelly voice was seeking some response from the annoyed Al. Dissatisfied with a simple rebuke, he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had broken the man’s spirit. He was a very small man. “You’re—”
human
Al:  “Do forgive me, my lord. Your house is so big, it took me a lot of door-opening before I could respond to your sudden summons. Oh—did you say something just now?” In forcing a third rebuke out of the old man, Al earned an unabashedly ill-humored click of the tongue. Finding relief in that reaction, Al took another good look at the man in the library. The old man was surrounded by bookshelves on either side, and he sat at an ebony desk. Al heard the man was not quite seventy, but his energetic physique suggested a man of fifty. His eyes, brimming with vigor, played a big part in this, and his straight spine and muscled body made him look rather distinguished. Though, the vulgar and selfishly materialistic personality contrasting with his appearance was lethal. The old man’s name was Baron Lyp Bariel. He was the head of the House of Bariel and the husband of the red woman, Priscilla. Since to Al, he was formally the partner of the woman he pledged his sword to, it could be said that he was a man to whom Al owed his respect. (Though, Al never considered him someone deserving of that respect.)
gpt
Lyp:  “I hear you’ve been indulging in the carefreeness of that girl, wandering about the lands daily.”
human
Al:  “And who do you mean by that girl, my lord?”
gpt
Lyp:  “Damn fool, who else would I mean—? My wife, Priscilla, of course!”
human
Al:  “Yes, of course. I mean, now it’s clear to me. You see, my mother told me that when a husband no longer calls his wife by her name, that means his affections for her have gone cold.” In his mind, Al laughed at the fuming old man while he gave a random answer.
gpt
Lyp:  “I heard you’re a sword slave. Do you even remember your parents?”
human
Al:  “Contrary to popular belief, not all of Volakia’s sword slaves are born in the fighting arenas. Most of them became sword slaves as adults because they were in debt or they committed crimes. But if they’re the same age, they claw their way to the top by beating one another to a pulp. That’s the punch line.”
gpt
Lyp:  “Humph. Sounds like a scene a savage empire brute would like. I can imagine how awful their tastes are.” To Al’s surprise, he found himself agreeing with Lyp’s scathing opinion. In all honesty, he did not want to remember his sword slave days.