Chapter 1455: Chapter 27: Negotiation (4)_2
Boyle’s heart tightened—who is this again? Why didn’t the intelligence ntion any collusion between the rebels and the Public Church? Could it be the confessor? Do the rebels plan to resort to torture directly?
The four rebel officers just looked at Boyle without speaking. The ascetic monk in the corner, like a stone statue, also remained silent.
So Lanco Boyle was the first to break the silence.
“Colonel Gessa, Colonel Skur, Lieutenant Colonel Magash, Captain Montaigne,” Major Boyle forcefully moved his arm bound by the belt, the chair beneath him shaking with his action, “please allow to protest against the mistreatnt of an envoy.”
Sitting in the middle of the long table, the bald officer with half his face covered in horrific scars spoke first with an arrogant expression, “Prisoners have no right to protest.”
“You are mistaken, Colonel Gessa, prisoners do have the right to protest,” Boyle replied with neither humility nor arrogance, “and I am not a prisoner; I am an envoy tasked with negotiations.”
“Understand your situation, United Provincial,” the bald colonel’s gaze was as cold as ice, “if I say you’re a prisoner, then you are a prisoner; if I say you’re still alive, then you’re alive.”
“You are indeed correct, Colonel Gessa, my life hangs by a thread dictated by you,” Boyle put on a nonchalant, polite smile, “but even death row inmates are transported more humanely than in that type of carriage.”
“Inhumane, is it?” the junior officer sitting on the far left of the table also laughed, “I, Paratu, ca in just such a carriage.”
Upon hearing the junior officer speak, Boyle scrutinized the other party closely.
It’s a pity, though the young junior officer in front of him did appear dignified and extraordinary, Boyle still found it hard to associate him with the “Blood of the Wolf” ntioned in the intelligence.
“You’re trapped in a logical fallacy, Captain Montaigne,” Boyle cald his mind, smiling as he responded, “You’re suggesting that because you suffered inhumane treatnt, such treatnt becos humane, thus negating the inhumane treatnt you received.”
“My logic has only one rule,” the junior officer said calmly, “[an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth].”
“Then there’s no problem; we’re even, I withdraw my protest,” Boyle answered cheerfully.
The next mont, he bowed deeply to the junior officer and sincerely said, “But regardless, I must apologize for your past inhumane treatnt. I hope you understand that not all United Provinces officers agree with treating you this way. To that end, I brought you a gift, right here with …”
“Is this it?” the junior officer took a small box from inside his coat, opened the lid, and placed it on the table facing Boyle.
A simple signet ring lay quietly inside the box.
The sa ring that Boyle, Gessa, Skur, and Magash had, but the junior officer never did.
“Indeed, the Great Alliance Ring,” Boyle nodded, “yours, Lieutenant Bard’s, and Lieutenant Andrea Cherini’s.”
The junior officer gently closed the box: “It was originally ours.”
“Returned to the rightful owner,” Boyle agreed gladly, “nothing could be better.”
“‘Returned to the rightful owner’ counts as a gift?” the bald officer snidely asked, “When did United Provincials beco so shaless?”
Before Boyle could reply, the tall and thin officer sitting next to the bald officer coughed lightly, halting the pointless attack, “Major Lanco Boyle, since you claim to bear the responsibility of negotiation, explain your intentions plainly.”
The tall and thin officer had deep-set eyes, an elegant deanor, and a hint of a poet’s lancholy in his expression.
Boyle thought: “Without a doubt, this is Skur klen, ‘deep thinker, eloquent,’ ‘good at planning, but lacking in ability to improvise.'”
“Firstly, General Cornelius has entrusted to congratulate all of you,” Boyle cleared his throat, speaking spiritedly, “you have achieved an extraordinary victory, and even as an enemy, General Cornelius says he must applaud you. The Battle of River Valley Village will go down in the annals of Alliance history.”
“Spare ,” the bald officer smirked sarcastically, the scar on his face looking even more terrifying, “I don’t consider being written into your warti history as an honor. Has Jansen Cornelius earned his general star yet? It shouldn’t be an award for staging a coup? Not easy, really not easy.”
“It’s not as easy as promoting oneself,” Boyle’s lips curled into a slight smile.
The bald officer furrowed his brows.
Sitting at the far right end of the table, the black-haired officer who hadn’t spoken all this while smiled warmly, finally speaking up.
His voice was magnetic, making one feel as though bathed in a spring breeze: “We have already received Minister Cornelius’s congratulations, Major Boyle, what else do you have to convey?”
The black-haired officer was younger than the other two officers, had a well-proportioned figure, and exhibited elegant manners, his officer uniform was perfectly ironed, and his thick, black hair and beard were ticulously grood.
“I presu you are Lieutenant Colonel Magash Colvin,” Lanco Boyle nodded in greeting.
The black-haired officer gave a light nod.
Lanco Boyle courteously said, “Your friend in Kingsfort sends you their regards.”
The black-haired officer smiled dismissively, “Save it, Major, state your purposes.”
Boyle withdrew his gaze and looked towards the two colonels sitting in the middle, “Besides the congratulations, General Cornelius sent here with one major issue and one minor issue.”
Gessa and Skur exchanged a glance, and Skur said blandly, “Let’s hear the major issue first.”
Boyle cleared his throat, “Given that both parties hold a significant number of ‘officers loyal to the other side,’ General Cornelius proposes we engage in a reasonable exchange.”
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