Chapter 869: Chapter 4 Father and Son Chapter 869: Chapter 4 Father and Son “What’s wrong?” Seeing Winters holding the doorknob without moving, Moritz’s expression was sowhat complex, “You called back, not just to help you take the bla, right?”
“Of course not,” Winters replied with righteousness and solemnity. “The information about the unidentified spell user must be explained by you personally.”
“Sooner or later this day would co,” Moritz chuckled lightly, saying leisurely, “There’s no escape.”
The colonel seed forthright, but in reality, he had completely given up struggling, known colloquially as—a dead mouse no longer fears the cold.
Unable to escape, Winters steeled himself and knocked on the door.
A rich male voice ca from the room: “Please co in.”
Winters stiffly pushed open the door, doing his best to greet calmly and casually, “Colonel Buka Chino… Your alias is rather casual.”
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Following behind and entering the room, Colonel Moritz stood erect and saluted seriously: “General.”
Lieutenant General Antonio Serviati of the Vineta Republic Army nodded in return, then looked towards Winters.
When exactly did the father realize his son had reached a position equal to his own? We do not know.
There must have been a catalyst, when the lion saw its cub had grown a full mane, and the father realized his son had beco an adult.
When that inevitable mont arrived, the emotions surging in the father’s heart were not only of relief and joy but also of sadness and anger.
So fathers choose to embrace it calmly, while others never bear it in their lifeti.
Antonio was looking at Winters Montagne like that, from left to right, from head to toe.
Like an artisan admiring the work he was most proud of in his life, and like a lion observing its challenger.
Being scrutinized made Winters sowhat uncomfortable, so he also stood to attention and saluted formally.
Yet Antonio did not return the salute; instead, he placed a hand on Winters’s shoulder, burdened and yet relieved, declaring, “Sigh… I’ve gotten old.”
Winters, that mischievous brat, couldn’t possibly comprehend Antonio’s emotions. He was still young, like a rising sun, and had never been a father.
Unless one day, he was defeated by his own children—Anglu, Xial, Bell—whom he had raised with his own hands, only then might he understand one ten-thousandth of the tumult in Antonio’s heart at that mont.
Sadly, the little ones had not yet reached their “rebellious phase.” Whenever they saw Winters, they behaved as loyal as puppies, only knowing how to wag their tails vigorously. Naturally, Winters could not understand Antonio.
“Don’t… don’t be like this,” Winters awkwardly managed. “The colonel has sothing to report to you.”
After saying that, Winters looked at Moritz with eyes pleading for rescue. The ssage was clear: Help!
Moritz was very aware of the specific reason he had been sought out.
He stepped back half a step and asked politely, “General, shall I visit later?”
The room was completely quiet.
“There’s no need,” Antonio waved his hand and sat back down at his desk, gesturing for Winters and Moritz to take a seat as well.
Winters breathed a sigh of relief internally.
When Winters was very young, Antonio had once told him sothing. Winters had completely forgotten the exact words but rembered the gist was “We are n, n do not share emotions with each other.”
Antonio did so, and so did Winters learn.
The harsh military academy education reinforced this point—in a society comprised solely of n, the weak were bullied.
Thus, faced with his foster father’s sudden emotional outburst, Winters was slightly at a loss.
He had anticipated many scenarios, but never had he thought Antonio would say, “Alas, I’m old.”
Fortunately, the hardest part was now behind him. Winters sat down properly and selectively narrated his experiences after leaving the Red River Tribe—omitting so of the more arrogant aspects.
During the storytelling, Winters carefully watched Antonio’s expressions.
He was actually very afraid, afraid that his foster father would dismissively comnt, “Isn’t this just playing house?”
Winters didn’t care how others judged him—or rather, he chose not to care. But he hoped to get his foster father’s recognition, even the slightest bit of approval.
Antonio didn’t make any judgnts; he just listened patiently, nodding occasionally, asking questions from ti to ti.
The only praise Antonio offered was: “Your soldiers are not bad, although their equipnt and training are poor, their spirit is very good.”
After Winters finished talking, Antonio turned to Moritz: “An unidentified spell user, in Iron Peak County?”
“Yes,” Moritz’s tone beca very formal, “The expression form of non-natural phenona is consistent with the conditions described in the ‘Red Sulfur Island Report.’ Based on this, it is inferred that the Terdon Tribe can control high-ranking spell users.”
Winters heard a strange combination of words: “Red Sulfur Island Report.”
He looked at his foster father and forr superior, obviously among the three present, only he was unaware of what the ‘Red Sulfur Island Report’ was.
Moritz continued speaking: “However, it’s strange that in the next two major battles, the Terdon Tribe did not receive any support from high-ranking spell users.”
After learning that “a huge wave appeared out of nowhere and capsized the Iron Peak County fleet,” Colonel Moritz van Nassau had disappeared.
To be precise, Moritz started acting independently, no longer following Mason’s assignnts, nor providing direct support to the Iron Peak County Military.
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