"Marshal Sergei, welco back from your leave." The guard at the entrance opened the gate for Sergei, and once again, the door of the military staff headquarters opened for him. The middle-aged man who had just completed the identification check smiled.
"I’m back," he said, while offering a cigarette to the guards.
The guards accepted the cigarettes with big grins, and the atmosphere imdiately beca more relaxed.
See, Marshal Sergei is still the sa old Sergei, and these guards are surely the sa old guards.
Having lit a cigarette and inquired about recent events, Sergei, reassured that the current situation on the battlefront was not bad, bid farewell to the guards and entered the great hall.
Unbuckling the gun holster from his waist, he handed it to a guard who approached him. Sergei noticed his unfamiliar face: "Soldier, you are..."
"Fabian Doron, the new weapon custodian." An older female civilian officer at the counter said with a smile, "Your Excellency Marshal, the little mishap didn’t make you lower your guard, I see."
"Ah, my dear Madam Lillian, if you had experienced having a friend fall on top of your carriage, you would be as cautious as I am," Sergei replied with a smile before handing over the dagger still in its sheath to the young soldier: "Fabian? Nice na, do your job well."
"Yes, Marshal Sergei, your equipnt will be stored in locker number 17. Here is your key." The young custodian handed Sergei a key, then took the Marshal’s gear towards the storage lockers.
Sergei waved goodbye to his dear Madam Lillian and proceeded down the hallway.
After passing through the detection array, he entered the inner corridor of the military staff headquarters, then overheard Jon Svenson from the Svenson family arguing with another young man.
"Your family must be mad. Why go after Halsan Chandler’s old hostead? Are his ager fields and that mill so enchanting that you would stake your life to obtain them?"
Who was Jon talking to?
With this question in mind, Sergei left the corridor. His footsteps were silenced by the carpet, and only when the Marshal appeared in front of the young n did they cease their argunt, too late to realize his approach, and saluted their Marshal together.
Jon Svenson of the Svenson family, and Lee from the Vince family... the Vince family... If Sergei rembered correctly, this should be a child from a branch of the Vince family. The Vince family was in-laws with the Hagelberrys, but Lee was from a branch of the Vince family, a descendant of the Dole Vince clan. His family’s lands were in the southwest, far from the frontlines.
As for this Halsan Chandler fellow, Sergei felt like he had heard the na sowhere before.
But out of affection for the young, he preferred to stay silent—both Jon and Lee were exceptional officers, after all.
And what else can local nobles do anyway? Just the sa old dirty tricks of seizing others’ property. He had witnessed plenty of such things when he was younger, and it was just the sa old story now. This world, it truly has too little justice. Young n like Prince Malin are far too rare indeed.
Signaling the young n to relax, Sergei, with a cigarette in his mouth, walked past them.
Wait a second.
Sergei paused for a mont.
He had just ntioned Malin... wasn’t Halsan Chandler one of the squad commanders of Prince Malin Gaiate’s sharpshooter squad?
The Dole Vince family wants to plunder the Chandler family’s wealth? Well, that’s a possibility.
Sergei continued to stride forward, waving casually to the two young n still standing there saluting him as he turned the corner.
In their intelligence, Malin should have already returned to the south. Making a move now would not only allow them to seize the Chandler family’s wealth, but it could also provide a ans, through Dole Vince family mbers in the military, to deploy Halsan Chandler to so dangerous area, or through other thods... In any case, permanently silencing the young man would be a good strategy.
Interesting, how much blood will our Prince Malin Gaiate get on his hands this ti?
Sergei thought to himself and revealed a knowing smile.
Look, on one side, there are the local noble bullies, and on the other side, the just and honorable Prince. How many sparks will fly between them this ti? It is indeed extrely intriguing.
Approaching the end of the hallway and pushing open the door, Sergei, with an expressionless face, proceeded towards the sand table in the war simulation room: "How is the recent situation on the Chaos front?"
At that mont, the Sergei that appeared before the officers was the stern and serious Marshal.
....
Malin erged from the passage; his appearance made the military staff headquarters guard, who had been about to blow his whistle, exhale in relief. The guard used a detection wand dipped in undiluted Holy Water and touched Malin, confirming that the person in front of him was not so monster disguised as human, and then instantly smiled, removing the whistle from his mouth: "Prince Malin, you seem to be in a rush to co here; are you here to see Marshal Sergei? He has only just returned to his post."
"No, I am here with questions today. May I enter?" Malin asked with a smile.
"Of course, please co in, Your Excellency." The guards themselves opened the large door, and as Malin walked into the great hall with a smile, he casually tossed the box with six cigarettes remaining to their squad leader: "Thank you for your hard work."
After the guards closed the door, sealing in their joyous expressions behind him, Malin arrived in front of the duty office: "Do I need to check in my equipnt?" he asked, looking at the old lady sitting behind the counter.
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