Chapter 1289: Chapter 58 Reigniting the Spark (3)_2
Old Taso couldn’t refute it, instinctively avoiding eye contact: “That shouldn’t be praised either…”
“Exactly.” The young man with the saber surprisingly nodded in agreent: “Conversely, if rewards were given too easily, it would encourage them to search travelers who aren’t suspicious.”
The saber-wielding youth shrugged, explaining with a smile: “So it’s rely verbal praise.”
Old Taso stiffened his neck, wanting to argue further, but upon catching his employer’s glance, he reluctantly lowered his head and muttered flattering words: “Master commands the troops well, I am in awe, truly in awe.”
The saber-wielding youth didn’t bother with the stubborn old servant, instead politely asking Old Majiya: “Mr. Majiya, have you served in the military?”
Old Majiya answered truthfully: “Twenty-five years ago.”
The saber-wielding youth then turned to Old Taso: “And this gentleman…”
“Taso.” Old Taso interrupted, sullenly: “I also served, but all I got was a body full of old wounds.”
The saber-wielding youth listened with arms crossed, a hint of respect and pity in his eyes.
But it was precisely this respect and pity that deeply stung Old Taso, prompting him to pick at his yellowed teeth with his nails and grin carelessly: “Besides the old wounds, I also got syphilis. Ha, look at my mory, I almost forgot about it.”
“What is syphilis?” Laor asked curiously.
Old Taso’s dark face showed no sign of blushing, reluctantly squeezing out a curse from his throat: “If…if you ever serve in the army, you’ll find out sooner or later!”
“Now I believe you indeed served.” The saber-wielding youth clapped his hands, laughing heartily: “However, my troops are not the sa as the ones you served in. At least none of my subordinates have caught such a disease.”
“Is that so?” Old Taso deliberately raised his voice.
“Yes.” The saber-wielding youth answered seriously: “You’ll know soon enough.”
His confident attitude left Old Taso speechless, unsure how to respond with sarcasm.
The saber-wielding youth removed his gloves and extended his hand towards Old Taso: “I haven’t introduced myself—I’m Lannis, a soldier under His Excellency Montaigne.”
Old Taso hesitated for a mont, cautiously grasping the other’s hand: “I’ve introduced myself already—Taso.”
This ti he gave his full na: “Taso Rumyantsev.”
When the other heard this distinctly foreign surna, he raised his eyebrows slightly but still nodded politely: “Pleased to et you.”
Old Taso put away his disdain, having realized—the other’s palm calluses were no thinner than his own: “Pleased to et you.”
The initial masculinity contest between two male strangers should have ended here.
However, Majia Lauer, who had been hiding behind the two elders and silent until now, suddenly spoke up impulsively.
“Lannis?” Laor stared wide-eyed at the saber-wielding youth, incredulously asking repeatedly: “Are you Lannis? That Lannis?”
The saber-wielding youth generously forgave Laor’s rude questioning, spreading his hands and responding freely: “If I’m not mistaken, the Lannis you’re talking about can only be .”
Old Taso was puzzled: “That one? Which one?”
Old Majiya also frowned, looking confusedly at the younger son.
“That Lannis, in the rebels’ ‘Communiqué’.” Laor explained eagerly to the two elders, but his voice got smaller as he continued: “The Lannis who conquered Artemis, the Lannis who forced Major Sunder to surrender.”
He swallowed, the sound in his throat reduced to a mosquito’s wings flapping: “And…the Lannis who captured Pal.”
This ti, it was Old Taso’s turn to look in disbelief at the “child” before him.
And when Old Majiya learned that the young man before him was the rebel commander who had captured his eldest son, he couldn’t help but turn his gaze to him as well. Yet, his granite expression remained unchanged, leaving others guessing what he was thinking.
Instead, Lannis unbuckled his saber and boldly offered it to the three: “This saber’s forr owner was Major Sunder. Does this serve as proof that I am ‘that Lannis’?”
It was as if Old Taso had been enlightened; he finally figured out where the familiarity with the luxurious saber stemd from—it was from accompanying his “employer” to Artemis to offer a position to the eldest son, where this heirloom saber was constantly at the side of the newly appointed garrison officer.
Yet, when the other offered this saber, worth more than its weight in gold, Old Taso dared not accept it.
“Where did you see that…that thing…” Old Taso hesitantly asked Laor, struggling to articulate that awkward term: “‘Communiqué’?”
Laor lowered his head, nervously kicking the little stone at his feet: “In town.”
“When did you go to town?”
“Sneaked off there.”
“When did you sneak off?”
“I sneak off every day.”
Old Taso stood still for a while, letting out a painful sigh from his chest. He bowed deeply to the promising young man with the saber, then to the “promising young master,” and retreated silently to the side.
Laor stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
“Your Excellency Lannis.” Old Majiya’s voice broke the unnerving silence: “May I have a word with you.”
Lannis nodded in agreent, joking: “I’m no ‘Excellency’, there’s only one ‘Excellency’.”
With that, he made a “please” gesture and led Old Majiya towards the barracks.
All that was left on the small plaza at the sentry post were Laor and Old Taso.
“What’s Father going to do?” Laor returned to his senses, anxiously asking Old Taso. He grabbed the saber on the table, nearly in tears: “He can’t possibly—doing that, can he?”
“My little master.” Old Taso said with a complex expression, taking the saber from Laor’s hand: “You and that Lannis are nearly the sa age, why can’t you learn from his poise?”
“Then what’s Father going to do? Why does he have to do it behind our backs?”
“What else can he do?” Old Taso slapped the saber onto the table, exhaling a dissatisfied word, “Offering!”
At the sa ti, inside the barracks at the sentry post.
“Your Excellency Lannis.”
If Laor and Old Taso were inside, they wouldn’t believe it—Old Majiya’s granite-like features had softened, and he was doing his utmost to adopt the most humble posture, pleading with the “rebel” officer who was about the sa age as his youngest son.
“These pieces of gold, I hope you can hand them to His Excellency Montaigne.”
“Mr. Majiya.” Lannis candidly inford Old Majiya: “The mont I knew who you were, I knew your intention, which is why I confird that you weren’t the person I was looking to catch.”
Old Majiya’s upper lip twitched slightly.
“But there’s no need for you to humble yourself, nor is there any need to offer further explanation.” Lannis spoke up before Old Majiya could, directly providing the answers he desired: “First, your son is not killed in action; he should now be in the prisoner camp.”
Old Majiya nodded gratefully.
“Secondly.” Lannis paused briefly, then said seriously: “When to release them, how to release them, can only be decided by His Excellency—no one could possibly influence His Excellency’s judgnt, and I certainly cannot.”
Old Majiya’s gaze dimd a little. He mustered up his spirit and waited for Lannis to continue.
“Lastly—those gold bars. I advise you to take them back. To you, those gold bars might be all your liquid assets, possibly even your entire fortune.”
Lannis lightly whistled, a trace of youthful charm and carefreeness showing on his face: “However, His Excellency Montaigne does not lack for that.”
Reviews
All reviews (0)