Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 991 - 50 Mountains_2

Chapter 991 -50 Mountains_2

“Oh, it hurts.”

Monk Luca then pinched his left shoulder lightly: “How about here?”

“It hurts too.”

“How is it?” Farnan asked caringly.

“It doesn’t seem like a fracture, but there might be a crack.” Plump Monk Luca wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Bone issues are best checked by the Imperial Physician, they are more adept at treating such injuries.”

“Divine Arts won’t work?”

Monk Luca smacked his lips, feeling it wouldn’t hurt to tell them: “No, those with fractures can seem to heal after being treated with Divine Arts, but after a few days, the patient might get a high fever and then… be called to the beyond.”

“Why?” Siegfried asked.

“Don’t ask, and don’t delve into it.” Monk Luca spread his hands out: “[Do not put your Lord to the test]! Ah, why am I even telling you this? I shouldn’t have. Alas, since you’ve heard it, make sure not to spread it around. Just bear with it a little longer, Earl Harlan, I’ll go find the Imperial Physician.”

Monk Luca draped a blanket over Siegfried, then hurried out of the tent.

After a while, the tent curtain was lifted, but it wasn’t the Imperial Physician who entered, it was Duke Lothar.

Duke Lothar gestured with his hand indicating that Siegfried and Farnan need not bow, first surveyed the furnishings inside Siegfried’s tent, and then turned to Siegfried.

“How is it?” Duke Lothar asked.

Siegfried replied with effort: “Superficial skin wounds.”

Duke Lothar looked at Farnan.

“Monk Luca diagnosed it as possibly being a fracture.” Farnan bowed slightly, impeccable in his manners: “The monk has just left to summon the Imperial Physician.”

Duke Lothar watched Siegfried for a moment, the corners of his mouth holding a subtle smile. Time had not marred the Duke’s handsomeness; instead, it had lent an even more dignified and elegant air to his persona.

“Earl Harlan.” Duke Lothar asked deliberately: “I do not understand why you publicly humiliated Marshal Hernan?”

“Humiliation?” Siegfried furrowed his brows tightly, about to erupt, but he suppressed the impulse: “I never humiliated Marshal Hernan. If I inadvertently caused any harm to the Marshal’s honor, I am willing to offer an open apology to him.”

Duke Lothar chuckled lightly, too lazy to explain much to the tempestuous young lord.

“Rest up and heal.” After saying this, Duke Lothar exited the tent.

Not long after, the tent curtain was lifted again, and it wasn’t the Imperial Physician who entered once more.

Little Hernan stormed into the tent, furiously demanding: “My father granted you the honor of cutting the beast’s ears and tail, even gave you the Warhorse—what more do you want?”

“There must be some misunderstanding.” Farnan stepped in front of Siegfried: “Your Excellency, Little Hernan.”

“Misunderstanding? Too late!” Little Hernan shouted and stormed out with a swing of his hand.

Just as Little Hernan left, the tent curtain was pulled aside once more.

This time, an exaggerated hat was poked into the tent first, below which was Marvey’s head with his eyes blinking rapidly. However, it was only his head; Marvey’s body was still outside the tent.

Ensuring there was no one else inside, Marvey then entered confidently. He adeptly pulled out a bottle of wine hidden under the march bed, took a big gulp, and then handed it to Siegfried.

“They’ve really put you through the wringer, haven’t they?” Marvey said with a smile: “How about basing the protagonist of the next play on you? A handsome man who spares nothing for love, those vain middle-aged noblewomen in the capital will go crazy for it. If you’re willing to go on stage and play yourself, that would be even…”

Siegfried gave Marvey a sidelong glance and silently took a sip of the wine.

“Hey, I knew you wouldn’t be pleased. Alright, I’ll respect your personal wishes and not write it.” Marvey said with feigned heartache: “Such a pity to waste good material.”

“Perhaps you should also respect the Emperor’s personal wishes, Mr. Marvey!” Farnan took the bottle of wine from Siegfried’s hand, turned, and looked at Marvey: “Duke Lothar just came by and mentioned that Earl Harlan humiliated Marshal Hernan…”

“I thought you did it on purpose!” Marvey burst out laughing: “You guys don’t know what ‘publicly giving a Warhorse on important occasions’ signifies in Castilian culture?”

Siegfried snorted softly.

Farnan asked solemnly: “Please enlighten us.”

“Marshal Hernan giving you the Warhorse meant he was also passing onto you the opportunity to seek glory, but you—publicly refused him.” Marvey’s smile faded into a regretful sigh: “I estimate you won’t lay a finger on the Marshal’s baton for the next decade.”

…

Meanwhile, in the Emperor’s royal camp tent. Attendants and maids were dismissed, leaving only the Emperor, Empress Diana, and Prince Richard within the spacious tent.

“Earl Harlan has declined Baron Hernan’s gift horse.” The Emperor said, looking at the Prince: “And before the people of Castile, no less.”

A cold sweat broke out on Prince Richard’s back; he hastily explained, “There must be some misunderstanding, Your Majesty. I will go find…”

The Emperor slightly raised his hand and Prince Richard immediately shut his mouth.

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“The issue is not with Earl Harlan.” The Emperor said softly: “The issue is with you.”

Hearing this, Prince Richard immediately knelt on one knee and bowed his head deeply.

“You desire to take over My Empire.” The Emperor looked at his son and slowly continued: “But… you can’t even control a single hound.”

These words weighed heavily; even the Empress beside him changed her expression, and Prince Richard was struck as by a bolt of lightning.

Grievance, indignation, resentment… a surge of emotions overwhelmed Prince Richard, and tears spilled from his eyes. After all, even as a prince, Richard was just an eighteen-year-old youth.