His expression was complicated, so Dingle had no idea what Dylan was thinking.
"Alright, it's getting late, you should get going. The communications soldiers are waiting for you," Dylan said, straightening up.
"Sir...I..." Dingle still looked hesitant.
"Get up! Get down the mountain now! Get to Salivia as quickly as possible! This is an urgent mission! It's no less important than the upcoming battle!" Dylan roared.
“Yes, sir!” Dingle could no longer refuse and immediately stood up.
“Go on,” Dylan said, turning to walk toward the oil lamp with his back to Dingle.
Dingle had so many questions he wanted to ask, but seeing Dylan's refusal, he knew he wouldn't get an answer. He touched the letter in his hand, then put it in his pocket.
He walked anxiously to the tent entrance, but couldn't help turning back to ask, "Sir, when will the negotiations for this battle begin?"
With a "poof," the wick was lit, and the flickering flame illuminated the tent. Dylan didn't turn around, but simply said:
"Before the last drop of blood is shed."
Dingle turned his face, which had turned deathly pale. He lifted the tent flap and stepped out. A biting wind rushed towards him, and he saw fully armed soldiers stationed in various places, waiting for their battle.
Dingle walked further and further away from the tent, and at that moment, the sound of the federal national anthem could be faintly heard coming from the tent behind him.
The fierce winds could not knock us down; our bodies stood firm on the ground like steel.
'The blizzard could not bury us; our blood is as hot as fire.'
Our chariots sped like lightning, heading in the direction from which the gale was blowing.
'We charge ahead, plunging deep into the enemy's lines! Piercing their chests with our rifles!'
In the empty tent, Dylan closed his eyes and softly recited the federal national anthem he had composed twelve years ago.
Above the mountain pass, atop the towering peak, the howling wind raged even more fiercely. Inside the shelter, Harris led the few remaining soldiers in singing this song, for at this moment, only in this way could they gain strength.
Unlike Dylan, on this mountaintop, they shouted with passionate expressions:
'Fight!'
'Fight!'
Where is the pride of the Empire's soldiers?
'Fight! Fight!'
To die on the battlefield for our motherland is our highest honor.
'If the goddess of victory abandons us, if enemy bullets pierce our chests, if we cannot return to our homeland.'
'At least we can die with honor!'
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