After pouring the wine and settling into his chair, Clemento pushed the glass toward him, saying, "That was a disaster."
“And I… I suppose I’m a lucky one.” He picked up his glass and toasted Federich.
Federich did the same; after taking a large gulp of wine, he wiped the foam from his lips, but shook his head and said:
"You shouldn't have come on this voyage."
You should get some rest.
The mellow, icy liquor did not cool Clemento; instead, it made him feel hot. So he took off his military uniform and hung it on the back of his chair, saying in a deep voice:
“I had to come; it was my mission.”
“Those damned Yan Kingdom bastards were wielding knives, chopping off the heads of my soldiers one by one. They were treated like pigs, and they all died.”
"Now their lives are on my shoulders, and I need to give them an explanation!"
"I have to do this. I will go to Yan Kingdom myself and watch those bastards die in front of me! And I will personally retrieve that man's head and bring it back to my homeland." As he said this, his pale face gradually turned red.
Federich understood his anger. In his memory, Clemento was a proud admiral with an extremely strong sense of responsibility, but that battle had almost destroyed everything he had.
Federich nodded, silently picked up the wine on the table, and refilled his and Clement's glasses.
The two drank again in one gulp, but then Federich suddenly spoke up:
"Clemento, I hope this won't affect your future judgment."
“Of course not,” Clemento replied directly.
Federich glanced at his expression, still somewhat worried, but knowing further discussion would be pointless, he changed the subject:
"It's been several months since that battle. What do you think those Yan people are doing now?"
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