BELLUM PRAESINTIA

I Still Ready To Do This

The sound instantly brought an awkward tension between them. Gean casually urged his horse towards them.

"What are you two doing? It's completely pointless!" he reprimanded firmly.

"Ugh... Here you come again!" Gobil muttered, glancing to the side.

Reval didn't blame the reprimand; he agreed with what was said. His gaze then focused on Garlan.

"You two not worthy of confusing Leader Garlan. It's clear here every step he takes is the right thing to do. There's no need for unclear comments!" Gean asserted firmly.

It wasn't just them; no one understood what was going on in Garlan's mind.

The horses' hooves continued to tread until they reached the green field. It was beautifully vast, tempting someone to fall into a deep sleep beneath the dark light sky.

The bonfires that emerged in the middle of the night added warmth to their bodies. One by one, their mouths told stories of their recent experiences. Forty people sat together with joyful faces, some face fading from memory, eroding the camaraderie of the past.

The melodies of memories that emerged would not always be the same. Each step would continue to create history in the future.

Garlan skillfully swung the knife, transforming the rough surface of the wood into a shape. Wood shavings fell away one by one. Garlan's gaze was interrupted by a figure entering the tent. After observing, he said, "Gean!"

Gean stepped forward, giving a salute. "There are people who want to meet you!"

Garlan slightly raised his head, squinting his eyes sharply. He wondered who had come. "Very well, I will meet them immediately!" It would be easier to uncover it by meeting them directly.

They walked the same path, and as the tent curtain opened, an aura of presence stole of two people's attention standing in the distance.

Gean and the others warmly welcomed that two individuals. They sat on cushions and were accompanied by several glasses of wine and roasted meat.

Garlan's presence made their bodies stand in respect, bowing in reverence.

Garlan nodded and said, "Have a seat!"

As they reached the anticipated atmosphere, before they could speak, the air between them grew heavy, making their bodies reluctant to utter words. The origin of this feeling was unknown, whether it was because of Garlan's loyal body emanating a mysterious grandeur or the lingering nervousness.

In the end, Garlan started the conversation, "So, what do you two want to discuss?"

The middle-aged man's face became moist with beads of sweat, sliding down his cheeks. He slowly took a deep breath and said, "Thank you, Mr. Garlan for being willing to speak with us!"

This simple sentence surprised everyone present, proving that Garlan's name and his troops had already echoed throughout various regions.

The wine trapped in the cup spun, following the direction of Garlan's fingers, as his face continued to observe the graceful of the wine's movement.

"So, what do you want to talk?" Garlan asked, not only with the same words but also with the same tone, as if he wanted to get straight to the point.

"Well, we are here as emissaries from King Castelo. He received a threat from the southeastern region led by Morvilio Kingdom, demanding surrender. In the past few years, many soldiers have died in the wars, and we are truly afraid! This year, we don't have a strong enough army to face them. If things continue like this, the kingdom will surely be destroyed!" That man skillfully played with his tone, seeking pity, but he couldn't convince the man before him. His hands only toyed with the wine in the cup, not looking in that direction with indifference.

Two minutes passed, everyone waited in tense anticipation for what Garlan would say. That man still didn't raise his gaze.

But the time was up; now his eyes shot out with a terrifying sharpness, directly aimed at them. A chilling feeling enveloped their bodies, refusing to dissipate. Breathing felt constricted, and sweat bid farewell, trickling down.

"So, you're here to ask for our help!" Garlan said, swallowing the wine.

At this moment, it was time for the middle-aged man to speak again, "Yes, we heard your group is a band of mercenaries who can easily defeat enemies!"

Tug!

Garlan's breath was momentarily held, allowing the wine to pass through his throat. The sound's cup tapping brought a silent atmosphere. He kept his eyelids closed for a few moments before opening it again.

"I understand that you're feeling anxious, but to hire us a considerable amount of money is required! Just relying on words won't give you a chance; you need funds to move others!"

They looked at each other, their faces filled with high levels of doubt, unable to control their breath.

"Of course, King Castelo will provide you with a substantial payment. It's impossible for him to invite you without an enticing reward!" the man said, his trembling lips slightly raised.

Garlan suppressed his suspicion, exhaling a long breath casually.

"Can you guarantee the payment will be as I desire?" he asked with a serious tone.

"Of course, we can guarantee it!" That man replied spontaneously, with his companion beside him nodding in support.

Once again, silence washed over their bodies, and the laughter from the people not far away still couldn't dispel this feeling.

"Very well! I will gladly help, but remember, if you betray what you just said, I wonder what will happen then!" Garlan warned.

"Agreed!" he answered, his face continuing to nod, but suddenly he couldn't raise his face as sweat poured down. After hearing strange sounds of movement, he slowly tried to lift his gaze, only to find Garlan walking back towards the tent.

The companion beside him looked at him with concern and said, "Will this be alright?"

"It's fine, we can trust him! Many kingdoms have acknowledged them as trustworthy knights. We just need to do it, and they will take care of  this problem!" He said that, but his fiercely bulging eyes suggested not to believe what had just been said—an intense wave of irony.

__To Be Continued__