Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 408: Section 271: Replay (Part 3)_2

Chapter 408: Section 271: Replay (Part 3)_2

The Baron gasped, "When was the last time a Saint Apprentice possessed three World Tree Saplings... When was it again?"

"No Saint Apprentice has ever possessed three World Tree Saplings," the theological assistant, well-versed in theology, shook his head, "The last time someone had two World Tree Saplings was the High Prelate of that church nation in the North, who, although not a follower of the Church of Justice, was favored by the God of Justice for his overt and righteous actions and received two saplings in his lifetime."

"Then I have a question now, exactly who is Malin His Excellency to that person?" asked the Baron’s assistant.

"Ten Mowish says he’s definitely not an illegitimate child," after saying this, the Baron reached out and slapped his assistant’s head, "Also, next time you have a death wish, don’t do it so close to me."

"I think this topic is too presumptuous, so... Midamia! How many Chaos corpses are there!" The assistant emerged from the trench, looking ahead.

The Baron also looked up and then saw a mountain of corpses in front of him; countless Chaos corpses were being carted away one load after another, but there were more rotting flesh and blood, scorched by the Flame Spell, being shoveled onto the carts.

"There’s no way to count them; we’ve already carted away at least thirty loads!" The assistant, clad in protective gear, turned to look at his comrades while holding a Chaos Skull in his hand: "See this, a priest’s skull, I can just pick one up if I bend over, this thing could sell for at least a thousand Mowish in the sacrificial market in the South, but here, they are tossed aside like trash."

"No, these are also Malin His Excellency’s property; he just left them for the Seventeenth Division, a very outstanding young man. If I had a suitable daughter, I would definitely have her madly pursue him," said the Baron.

The Baron and his assistants turned and saw the General His Excellency approaching; they uniformly doffed their caps: "Your Excellency."

"If the Chaos were still before me now, I would send each and every one of you to the Atonement Camp," the old man shook his head: "On the battlefield, Chaos Sharpshooters prioritize targets who salute, didn’t you guys receive battlefield training when coming from the rear?"

The Baron and the assistants uniformly shook their heads.

"Then I’d better keep a certain distance from you all, and don’t salute anyone of a higher rank, be it officer or military, than you guys. If someone dies because of your courtesies, I’d surely have someone shoot you in the back, you rascals."

Having said this, the old man found a foxhole nearby, jumped in, and sat down: "I really miss this thing, back in the day it was in these little holes we fought the Chaos, you guys, how did the investigation go?"

"There are some minor issues we have not agreed upon," the Baron was the first to speak.

His assistant continued, "We believe that His Excellency Malin could not have fired tens of thousands of bullets in two days and nights."

"However, we think that if His Excellency Malin really had three World Tree Saplings, he could definitely do it," the assistant holding the measuring tape added.

The old man fell silent for a moment, then jumped out of the foxhole and looked at them: "Does anyone else know about your report?"

"No, Your Excellency," the Baron instinctively sensed something was wrong.

"Good, now there are two choices. One is that you write in the battle report that this defensive line was held by His Excellency Malin and the soldiers of the Seventeenth Division’s Third Infantry Corps, Nineteenth Company."

"But the soldiers of the Nineteenth Company were all killed on the front line two kilometers east of here."

"Yes, the last of them died there," General His Excellency said and pulled out his Revolver from his waist, "The other choice: you write the truth, then a squad of Chaos deserters happened to pass by here, they killed them, and then were shot dead by our Guards... Now, choose one."

Looking at the old man raising the Revolver in his hand, the Baron snatched the report from his assistant and said, "Your Excellency, the new testimony you’ve offered is very important; now I will take my assistants to include this information in our report."

"Very well, Baron Bona, I often see your reports in the military newspapers, and I hope a conscientious and responsible battlefield investigator like you will rise through the ranks," said the old General, lowering the Revolver. He walked up to the Baron, extended his hand and patted his shoulder, "Work hard, young man; the future is yours."

The Baron felt that at this moment, his smile must be uglier than his crying.

But he still made a great effort to smile: "I will work hard, thank you for your esteem, General His Excellency."

......

Malin had sent back the information he knew to Carterburg and then began a life of slacking off.

Yesterday, after the council meeting of nobles, he was confused by the votes of the nine Dukes—since a five-to-four vote among the nine of you would settle the matter, why let the Earls and their proxies speak up? Everyone’s time is precious, and if what they say doesn’t count, why let them speak at all?

Of course, Faye provided an answer to Malin’s doubt—sometimes, amongst the nine Dukes there would be one who abstained, and in a four-to-four situation, the decisions of the Earls became the most crucial factor.

To this, Malin merely outwardly agreed while thinking these fellows were really tedious. If they intended for the Earls’ decisions to become decisive, why have them vote first? It was just because the Dukes had colluded to rig the voting—a critical vote could be swayed by a Duke who voted last after learning the Earls’ votes.

Of course, this was all just Malin’s speculation. From what was apparent, the relationships among the Dukes were not good, but Malin felt that their relations were not as tense as they appeared to be.

Of course, Malin had no evidence, nor did he want to get involved in the nobles’ affairs because he felt that The Queen, Lady Manli, would certainly not appreciate his curiosity, especially after that big cat uttered those words, he suddenly understood why the old lady disliked him.

A prince’s husband beyond control, with the support of multiple churches, extremely powerful himself, and even openly backed by a Duke in the country... Most importantly, this man was far more outstanding than the Crown Prince and the second prince. In this unlucky country, there would always be someone who would take the blood-stained crown from a royal family that had terminated its lineage.

One couldn’t assume Lady Manli’s wild thoughts to be a hysteria; after all, such situations had existed ever since the founding of the Sydney Union.

Although Emperor Goethe was already making a sprint towards becoming Legendary, his two princes were born to Manli in his middle age, and were still fundamentally commoners of bronze. They might be more capable of achieving the Legendary status than ordinary Transcendents, but... Malin really did not think highly of them.

After all, their mother was only a Level Six.

Unless there was a mutation in their bloodline, or the blood of Goethe ran in their veins, the chances of them becoming Legendary were probably even slimmer than that of their father.

And Malin... the debate over whether he was of Silverblood or a Gold progeny never ceased. Poor The Queen, she must have been on guard against him for a while.

But Malin had to admit, the lady’s acting was quite good. During this time, he had never caught a glimpse of anything improper in her eyes. She was a loving mother and an easy-going lady. Sometimes, Malin felt that he ought not to take away the future of a child loved by such a mother if he had any conscience left.

The fact was, Malin had never thought about doing so.

Even if one day Malin became the leader of the world, with all the innocent and Transcendents rallied under his banner, he would not be an Emperor or a King.

Malin Gaiate, the guardian of mortals, the protector of the innocent, everyone’s... Guardian Duke.

Because Malin had always believed in a saying.

There are no Immortals in the world, no Emperor, and certainly no Savior that comes with the toss of a coin.

"Malin, stop daydreaming," the call from his lady snapped Malin out of his reverie, and he glanced at himself in the mirror... he had not shrunk any further, which was good.

With this thought, he walked to the door and took the flat cap passed to him by Faye, "Where are we going today?"

"To the Church of Justice. Their Archbishop sent a letter saying that the item you left there for repair has been completely restored," Faye replied.

Malin was stunned for a moment, then remembered the watch-like object.

Great, he had completely forgotten about it.