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The tent was filled with smoke.
“It’s been a long time, Your Highness Fran,” said Terix, the commander of the 1st Wyvern Squadron.
He exhaled a cloud of smoke from his cigar, rolled with thick leaves. Sitting in his chair, Terix was almost at eye level with Fran, and with every breath his muscles rippled beneath his massive frame.
Facing him was like facing a brick wall. In terms of physique, Terix could stand toe-to-toe with Gordon Fabian, the leader of the Guidance Mercenary Gang.
“It seems you’ve had a rough time. I suppose land battles don’t suit a naval expert like Your Highness,” Terix remarked, puffing on his cigar.
“...”
Despite the acrid smoke wafting directly into his face, Fran did not turn away.
“How dare you. What makes you think you can be so insolent...?!”
Crash!!
At that moment, as if to silence Anthem’s outburst, Terix slammed his fist onto the armrest of his chair with such force that it shattered.
“Insolent? You should be the one to watch your mouth. Know your place before you speak,” Terix growled.
“...”
Anthem, staring at the splintered armrest, fell silent. Low chuckles echoed around the tent.
Around the tent were members of the 1st Wyvern Squadron, their cold gazes...
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