Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter Continue:

The middle-aged man waiting for Winters in this small room was none other than Winters's uncle by marriage, the husband of Winters's mother's younger sister, a military academy classmate who had been through life and death with Winters's father, and Winters's close kin—Antonio Serviati.

"How could customs possibly know everything!" Winters cheered in his head, originally thinking he would have to undergo some severe punishment, only to find out that it was just a "prison visit," making him overjoyed.

The guard leader who had brought Winters here bowed respectfully and left the small room.

The heavy wooden door screeched as it closed, leaving only the uncle and nephew alone in the room.

Antonio walked over joyfully and hugged Winters tightly, ruffling his hair, and exclaimed with heartfelt emotion, "You rascal, look at you! You've truly grown into a man now! You're the spitting image of your father when he was young. I almost thought the gods had taken me back twenty years, letting me see your father walk in through the door."

The tone of Winters's uncle was deep and mellow, filled with six parts joy and four parts sorrow.

Winters felt sentimental and affected by his uncle's emotions, but at the same time, the sudden display of affection made his skin crawl.

Six years of closed boarding school life had profoundly affected his personality; classmates are not family, and men do not express emotion to each other in such an affectionate manner—in fact, men hardly ever communicated emotions at all.

Therefore, Winters, out of the Ivory Tower of the military academy, was very uncomfortable with such intimate body language. In Antonio's eyes, Winters was still the kid who pestered him to learn swordsmanship, but what Winters felt now was mostly embarrassment and helplessness.

"How are Kosa and my sister? How are the Great General and the junior generals?" Winters hurriedly tried to escape his uncle's "pincer attack" with words.

"They are all fine, all missing you," Antonio let go of his arms, wiped his eyes with his palm, and took in a breath through his nose, seemingly not yet out of the emotional state, "Let's sit down and talk."

Antonio led Winters back to the table by his arm.

No sooner had Winters's bottom touched the chair than he eagerly asked in a low voice, "Does the military know we have been detained by customs?"

Seeing Winters's cautious appearance, Antonio couldn't help but chuckle with a snort, "Of course they know. It's not even 'the Palace'—once the docks make a noise, within two hours the whole of Sea Blue City knows. Now the rumors outside are overwhelming. The city is buzzing with tales of the Vineta Army smuggling goods, intercepted by customs resulting in a big fight, with some even saying that hundreds were killed. Everyone's making it sound so believable."

'The Palace' was a colloquial reference to the Vineta Army headquarters, which was built so lavishly that the citizens mockingly compared it to a royal palace. Over time, 'the palace' and 'the throne' became nicknames for the army headquarters among the soldiers.

"So is my uncle from the army here to get us out?" Winters, elated, thought it seemed they would be leaving this dreadful place soon.

Antonio smiled and gently shook his head, "No, I'm just visiting as a relative right now."

"Why?" Winters's smile froze, utterly astonished, "If the army already knows we're locked up, why don't they send someone to get us out?"

"Hmph, obviously because those fools at customs have made a big blunder." Antonio snorted with a blend of scorn and contempt in his smile, "Those customs bastards have their brains filled with mud, first detaining you all without explanation. Now they can't admit their fault and still can't let go of their pride, they actually want to have a joint meeting to 'request' to take you all back from customs. Do you think 'The Throne' would agree to that?"

As the army headquarters was mockingly referred to as 'The Palace,' the small conference room where the army's highest authority, the senior officers' joint meeting, took place was naturally the room with the most power in the palace—and so, the senior officers' joint meeting also got dubbed 'The Throne.'

"That's shameless!" Winters was shocked and angry after learning about the custom authorities' petty schemes, his eyes wide, nostrils flaring violently, and he abruptly stood up, knocking the chair over.

Winters, fuming with indignation, said, "What right do they have to do this? We were just implicated."

"Don't rush, don't rush," Antonio pulled Winters to sit down, his tone light and cheerful, "Haha, you have just the same temper as your dad... Ah, as one gets older, one tends to reminisce about the past too often. Sit down and listen to me explain everything slowly."

Winters knew he had been inappropriate for shouting at his uncle in a burst of anger, he smiled apologetically at him, and mentally chastised himself yet again to be more restrained and calm in the future, and he set the chair upright and sat down again.

"Anyway, the situation is like this, customs has made a foolish mistake, but doesn't want to lose face and expects us to clean up their mess, wanting The Throne to speak up first," Antonio spread his hands in a relaxed gesture, dismissively saying, "It's delusional—they think the army will compromise its dignity just to wipe customs' ass? Now you're stuck in the middle. But it's no big deal, customs won't dare do anything to you, they still have to coddle you."

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