"Sigh... Ogre," Lange also let out a sigh.
After a moment of silence, he began to speak about his own background: "Although, Ogre, my birth was much better than yours, I never felt any love in my family. My birth was an accident; I'm the son of a knight and a maid."
As he spoke, Lange suddenly chuckled twice, "It's funny, I've never actually seen my so-called father. If it weren't for discovering that I had the qualities of a knight, I doubt he would have ever acknowledged me as his son..."
Ogre didn't ask about Lange's mother.
A maid whose name isn't mentioned—her fate is self-explanatory.
"Ogre, I once considered my mother, whom I barely met, a disgrace. But later, I gradually realized that the bloodline I should truly be ashamed of is my father's. No matter how others see him as great, in my eyes, he's just scum!"
But as Lange spoke to this point, he suddenly smiled bitterly, "Yet I have to admit, it's because of this scum that I survived and became a knight..."
"Lange..." Ogre took the initiative to comfort him, "We can't choose our birth. All we can do is strive to become stronger—strong enough to break free from predetermined fate."
Perhaps no one can truly fight against fate.
But there are always those who will never submit to it.
"Maybe that's where you and I truly differ, Ogre—you're a natural-born strongman," Lange said with a slight smile, "And I... if I hadn't met the young master, I might have been trapped for a long time."
"Foucault... what did he say to you?" Ogre seemed to understand why Lange, who wore arrogance as a mask, would pledge loyalty to someone his own age like Foucault.
"The first time I met the young master, he was holding a book... Later, when we met again, he still had that book in his hands. He pulled me aside and, in a very childish voice, told me word by word about the stories in the book and his own ideals. I can't quite remember the specifics."
Recalling the past, Lange's face showed a sincere smile, "But I still remember one thing he said to me."
"A king is not great because of his bloodline, and a servant is not lowly because of his. This is unreasonable. A person's greatness should not lie in their bloodline, but in their actions and thoughts."
Lange mimicked Foucault's tone as he recounted the past.
"Well, your young master seems to have read some interesting books..."
Ogre recalled what he did as a child.
Apart from bullying magic rabbits, shooting birds, and occasionally catching fish, there wasn't much else...
As for the happiest times, those were probably the moments spent listening to his father tell stories.
His father used stories to entice him, which eventually led him to learn those difficult and obscure human words...
Some people show extraordinary qualities from a young age. Ogre didn't think he was one of those people, but he believed—Foucault probably was.
"I think the young master understood it. Anyway, from that moment on, I decided to be his knight, to follow him—until he fulfills his ideals," Lange said, his eyes growing more determined with every word.
"Having a goal is good sometimes," Ogre smiled, "That's what my father told me. He said—having a goal in life already puts you ahead of many."
"Hahaha, I don't understand much, I just feel that the young master is worth following. I can sense that he's different," Lange said, laughing as he scratched the back of his head.
"Lange, Ogre! Why did you guys wander so far?"
Just then, Foucault emerged from the Professional Association and waved at them.