Chapter 1147: Chapter 9 Friendship
[Revodan]
[Officer’s Quarters]
The uniford young man walking ahead silently pushed open the bedroom door on the ground floor. Then he turned around, lowered his voice, and said apologetically:
“There were originally a few unoccupied officer’s quarters, but a while ago, Colonel Seber and his n returned from the wasteland and indiscriminately seized all of them. You’ve been inconvenienced, so you’ll have to share the space with Major Moritz for now.”
Looking over the uniford young man’s shoulder, Axel of Orange surveyed the room’s arrangents:
The tables, chairs, windows, and doors had all been thoroughly wiped clean, clearly after a ticulous cleaning session;
The bedding was complete, likely taken out from storage not long ago. The creases from being folded for so long hadn’t smoothed out yet, and they carried that distinctive unused sll;
In front of the bed were a table, chairs, and writing tools. On the desk sat a small bookshelf filled to the brim with books. Judging by the titles on the spines, they seed to have been carefully selected to cater to his taste.
“This is already good enough.” Aike felt a tinge of gratitude in his heart, jokingly asking, “You should have let stay in a prison cell. After all, I’m a captive—aren’t you afraid I’ll escape?”
The uniford young man smiled and gently closed the door, explaining in a low voice: “Staying by Major Moritz’s side is safer than staying in a cell. Besides, Major Moritz isn’t like that other ill-tempered major; he’s easygoing and good-natured. You won’t have to endure any rank-related grievances here.”
Aike didn’t quite understand what the officer ant, but he nodded nonetheless.
The uniford young man seed to rember sothing as he raised his hand to adjust his collar and coughed lightly: “One thing to keep in mind—do everything you can not to make too much noise. The Major… his ntal state hasn’t been good lately. Most of his ti is spent ditating, trying to sleep, or actually sleeping. If he’s disturbed, he… he might accidentally hurt you…”
Aike listened attentively but grew increasingly puzzled.
The uniford young man blinked a few tis as if realizing that he had exaggerated the matter. Quickly, he waved his hand: “But it’s just a possibility; you don’t need to worry too much—most of the ti, the Major is perfectly normal.”
“Maybe you should just send to the dungeon instead?” After hearing his companion’s words, Aike couldn’t help but laugh and cry. He involuntarily lowered his voice and mockingly demanded: “Are you making room with a rampaging warhorse, Winters?”
“Maybe even more dangerous than a rampaging horse.” The uniford young man—Winters Montagne, leader of the Tiefeng County rebels, an infamous Blood Wolf among the Federated Provinces officers stationed in Paratu, and Aike’s old schoolmate and close friend—thought for a mont with his gaze lowered, then looked up and replied with a mix of seriousness and wry humor:
“A rampaging cannon would be a more accurate analogy!”
As soon as he said this, the two burst into laughter.
The pair studied each other. Both felt a sense of familiarity, but beneath it, a lingering strangeness. It had been nearly three years since they had started as cadets.
These three years had bestowed Aike with the polish and charm of high society, akin to a refined statue sculpted from raw stone. Axel of Orange had shed his youthful immaturity and grown into a handso, approachable young man.
Winters, however, had undergone the opposite transformation. The three years of trials and tribulations had stripped away every last trace of “high society” pretense and affectation, leaving behind the sturdy resilience of unrefined iron. He had beco lean and agile, exuding a wild, uncontainable energy and a towering, unshakable confidence in every gesture.
eting each other’s gaze, Aike shook his head and, worn out, sprawled onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow with a long, contented sigh.
Then he turned over, gave his old classmate a thumbs-up, and half-jokingly praised: “Two years apart, and your sense of humor has improved significantly.”
The uniford young man unbuckled the weapon belt over his coat, pulled out a chair, and straddled it backward. Resting his arms on the backrest, he tilted his head and asked with a childlike smile: “Why would you think I was joking?”
“Hmm?” Aike propped himself up on his elbows and sat back up.
“The officer sharing these quarters with you.” Winters pointed at the ceiling and said, half-teasing, half-showing off: “He may not be the most powerful spellcaster of the Various Republics, but he is undoubtedly the most dangerous one. Do you still think I’m joking?”
Aike instinctively held his breath, the hairs on his arms and back standing up as he unconsciously straightened his posture.
While Aike was still processing this startling revelation, the uniford young man patted him on the shoulder and said optimistically:
“But you don’t need to worry. I’ve confiscated anything sharp in this house—there isn’t even a single fork left here. So even if the cannon goes out of control, it’s an unard cannon. Besides, the Major’s ntal state has been improving recently, so he shouldn’t pose a danger.”
Aike felt a surge of curiosity bubbling up: “Uh, this Major Moritz… what’s wrong with him? Could it really be as serious as you say…”
His instinct was to dig deeper, but he abruptly rembered his status as a prisoner and imdiately stopped himself—he didn’t want to exploit his friendship with Winters to snoop on the rebels’ secrets.
“You’d best not tell .” Aike shook his head. “I won’t ask anymore either.”
“It’s fine.” Winters’s offhand attitude was so straightforward that it left Aike in disbelief: “The Major is trying to quit drinking. I’ve heard he was much scarier before—but I wasn’t around then. Lately, he’s been much better.”
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