Seeing the carriage approaching, the soldiers quickly extinguished their cigarettes and stood up as well.
"It must have come from the Royal Castle," Smarton said softly, looking at the black flag on the carriage.
"Hmm," Pokar responded softly.
"Ring ring ring ring~"
The sound of the bells was particularly prominent in the quiet night, especially in the current somber and cold atmosphere. Immediately afterward, a guard emerged from the carriage pavilion behind them and whispered:
"They're here, Colonel. This should be the clearance."
Dingle did not respond, but simply watched the approaching carriage. As the bells grew closer, the figures of several cavalrymen gradually appeared behind the carriage. Upon seeing these men, Dingle couldn't help but frown.
Following behind the carriage were not regular cavalrymen in blue uniforms; they wore uniform black leather coats and leather hats embroidered with the Imperial Eagle emblem—the Storm Special Combat Team, whom we had seen not long ago.
Not only did Dingle frown, but the expressions of the three soldiers also became serious. Huffman carefully stretched out his foot to sweep away the cigarette ash on the ground.
The guards stood ramrod straight and had already saluted the approaching carriage. When Bokar saw this, he wanted to salute as well, but when he saw that Dingol had not yet done so, he lowered his arm again, looking somewhat at a loss.
As the bells fell silent, the carriage slowly came to a stop by the roadside. The hawk-like eyes of the six special forces soldiers following behind the carriage swept back and forth over Ding Geer and his group.
This made the soldiers' breathing quicken, as if they were prisoners awaiting trial. They unconsciously turned their eyes to look at the expressionless Dingle.
The next moment, with a "snap," the vermilion door was pushed open a crack, and a rough yet indifferent voice came from inside:
"Dinger, get in the car."
The moment the words fell, the soldiers saw a change in Dingle's expression; he raised his eyebrows.
"Yes," Dingle replied, but after taking a step forward, he added, "What about my companion?"
With a "snap," the door was pushed open, revealing a face covered in a thick beard. Beneath his bushy eyebrows, the man's eyes were bloodshot, and his gaze betrayed obvious weariness. He looked at Smaildon and the other two, remained silent for two seconds, and then said:
"You can stay here for the night, and we'll talk tomorrow."
"Yes, sir!" Smeton and his two companions quickly saluted the man, drawn by his prominent epaulets.
The rank insignia on his shoulder straps indicated his illustrious status; he was a man whom even the generals of eight army groups would bow before—Field Marshal of the Federal Empire, the Emperor's right-hand man, Albert Wolfgang.
"I'll come again tomorrow..."
Dingle, however, seemed unconcerned and was giving instructions to Smetton and the other two.
"Come on up quickly."
Wolfgang wiped his face, interrupted him, and urged him on.
“Colonel, you may go. We will stay here and await your news,” Smarton said to Dingle.
"...Okay." Dingle said no more, turned around and stepped into the carriage. The coachman cracked his whip, the warhorse neighed and turned to leave, followed by the Storm Fighting Team.
As the convoy drove further and further away, Huffman moved his lips and muttered a few words to himself.
"What are you saying?" Smeton asked casually as he watched the carriage disappear into the darkness.
“May the goddess Saint Marlene protect the Colonel and our country…” Huffman said softly.
“Okay, let’s go in.” Smeton slowly withdrew his gaze and walked with Pocaré toward the carriage.
At that moment, Huffman bent down, picked up the half-extinguished cigarette from under his feet, put it in the cigarette case and put it in his pocket, before turning around and walking towards the carport.
——
"Ring ring~"
The crisp sound of bells echoed through the streets. Inside the carriage, Wolfgang and Dingle sat facing each other. A brass lamp hung on the side of the carriage. Although the road was flat, the lamp wick kept flickering, making the interior of the carriage constantly dim.
From the moment Dingle boarded the train, the two did not exchange a single word.
Thus, it wasn't until half an hour later that Wolfgang suddenly spoke up and asked:
When did you arrive in Salibia?
"evening."
"Hmm...evening...did you go home?"
"........"
"You should go home first."
"......"
Dingle still didn't answer, and Wolfgang touched his nose and fell silent again.
A few minutes later.
"Why is the Royal Castle under lockdown?" Dingle asked.
"Some unexpected situation has arisen."
"What unexpected situation?"
Wolfgang crossed his arms and replied, "It's hard to explain right now. I'll tell you when we get there."
“It’s still at least an hour or two away, you have plenty of time, you can tell me now,” Dingle said.
"We'll talk about it when we get there," Wolfgang replied again.
As he spoke, he reached into his robes, pulled out a pipe, and put it in his mouth. Then he took out a tobacco case and was about to open the lid to take out the tobacco when the carriage suddenly lurched, and the copper tobacco case fell with a "thud" under the chair where Dingle was sitting.
Wolfgang leaned forward, about to reach for the cigarette pack, but Dingle had already bent down and picked it up.
He handed it to Wolfgang.
Looking at the cigarette pack being offered to him, Wolfgang reached out to take it, but at that moment he leaned forward and whispered:
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