Captain – Chapter 276 – The Old Marshal

In the top floor of the fortress, within a small yet exceptionally quiet room.

An elderly man wearing a deep gray coat with a gentle countenance lay in a rocking chair. Near the chair was a small, elegant fireplace where wood crackled in the flames, the sound making one unable to help but relax.

Beside the old man was a low table, on which sat a cup of hot tea and several disorganized documents.

From time to time, he would pick up the teacup, take a small sip before setting it down, then retrieve a document and examine it with weathered yet still clear eyes, reading with difficulty but extraordinary care.

Looking outward from the rocking chair was a floor-to-ceiling window occupying the entire wall.

Outside was the dark sky, countless raindrops striking the glass diagonally, creating faint sounds.

Inside, on an unusually large perch, stood a majestic sea eagle with deep brown feathers, eyes closed as if in deep slumber.

The fireplace, the sound of rain, the old man, and the sleeping eagle.

All these elements created a peaceful, tranquil scene, conveying such harmony and ordinariness—like a common household where the family patriarch was engaged in his pre-bedtime reading.

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The issue was that what the old man read was not some leisurely newspaper, nor literary works to cultivate the mind, but a series of weighty, solemn military reports.

When reading some depressing news, the reason his expression remained unchanged and relaxed was because he had read countless similar intelligence reports before and had been trapped in even more complex and difficult situations. He had been in the military for decades, dedicating his entire life to this country.

Because he was the Auran Empire’s only current Marshal, Auston Sanchez.

Reading the military report that had just been delivered, describing the scene of the noble carriage entering Colent, the old man smiled and shook his head.

As if this news—which made countless people, even important figures like General Willis, extremely nervous—was to him merely an amusing anecdote for casual conversation.

Just as the Marshal put the parchment back on the low table, footsteps suddenly sounded from not far beyond the door, gradually approaching.

Soon, polite, crisp knocking was heard.

The sea eagle, which had been sleeping moments before, had already awakened upon hearing the distant footsteps, vigilantly looking toward the wooden door. When the old man said “Come in” and the door slowly opened, it assumed an even fiercer combat stance.

“Relax, Isha, it’s our young guest.”

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Hearing the old man’s gentle reassurance, the eagle finally relaxed, withdrawing its hostility.

The door closed softly, shutting out the cold wind from the corridor.

The youth entered the room, his demeanor as natural as if returning home. He first approached the sea eagle, gently stroking its smooth feathers while greeting softly: “Long time no see, Isha.”

Hearing this familiar greeting, the eagle tilted its head slightly, somewhat bewilderedly observing this “strange” guest, seemingly not understanding why he knew its name.

“It’s been many years. I myself feel somewhat unfamiliar, so it’s understandable that Isha doesn’t recognize the little one who has completely changed.”

Hearing this, the youth sighed softly, patted the eagle’s wings once more, then turned around, casting his gaze upon the old man’s aged face: “Indeed, it’s been many years since we’ve met, Grandpa Auston.”

If the survival of Prince Carlos and Princess Hefra’s child was a secret known to few, then among those scarce individuals who knew this secret, the shadow of this old man was certainly present.

When the young prince was just six years old, the Founder had already brought him to meet with the Marshal, even engaging in a clandestine negotiation with him.

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No one knew what the two discussed, but the outcome must not have been pleasant.

Because if the old man could have done something, or even just promised something, the Black Raven Society—viewed as a thorn in the military’s side—would not have, nor needed to, appear in the world.

Moving a wooden chair beside the fireplace, Curtis sat opposite the old man, warming his hands by the blazing flames before revealing a somewhat timid smile: “How have you been these years?”

“Not bad, I suppose. With capable successors in the military, life has naturally become more leisurely, which is why I’ve managed to live a few more years.”

The Marshal nodded slightly, then gazed at the ring on the youth’s finger, his eyes gradually stirring with some emotion, saying rather sentimentally: “It seems our little princess has succeeded. Otherwise, I imagine His Majesty wouldn’t have entrusted the royal ring to you. I had thought…”

After a long pause, the old man seemed to understand something and smiled with acceptance: “I thought Benjamin would never put aside his pride. Now it appears everyone changes, even someone once so remarkable and so stubborn.”

“What about you?”

Hearing this, the youth couldn’t help but ask: “Ten years ago, Aunt hoped you would help her—help me reclaim the throne. You refused so decisively, standing so firmly by grandfather’s side. Yet why have you now become his greatest enemy?”

“Is this also a change brought by time?”

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“No, I have never changed, child.”

Listening to the youth’s questioning, nostalgia rose in the Marshal’s eyes. He gently rocked in his chair, his tone as gentle as if telling a story to a child: “When the little princess brought you to see me then, it was at the most critical juncture of the war between the Empire and the Federation. Whether at sea or on land, at every front where Empire and Federation bordered, soldiers were falling every moment.”

“I admit, at that time, the Empire’s inland defenses were sparse, and the capital St. Caloie’s city defenses were virtually nonexistent. That was indeed, as the little princess said, the best opportunity to seize the throne. Having Benjamin abdicate in your favor might have also appeased the Federation’s anger, potentially bringing peace sooner.”

“Her rhetoric, the starting point of all her proposals, was incredibly beautiful and moving. But when that fragile veil was lifted, what I saw was only a child’s naiveté, immaturity, and an unmaskable heart of vengeance.”

“She didn’t understand then why the Empire’s glory was viewed as faith by me and many other old men. She didn’t understand that the military cannot coerce the sovereign. She didn’t understand the various consequences of overthrowing her father at such a critical moment, which might even bring turmoil and darkness that could cause Auran to fall.”

“Moreover, putting you, at just six years old, on the throne was nothing but empty talk. Even if His Majesty was overthrown and the one who plotted against her brother was slain, how could Gloria persuade the other princes and the people to establish a child who didn’t understand the world as legitimate?”

The Marshal sighed softly, saying in a low voice: “She never thought about all this, or perhaps these thoughts were consumed by the anger and hatred in her heart. So…”

“How could I possibly agree to her proposal?”