Chapter 100 - 101
As the words faded, a figure slowly appeared before everyone.
He wasn’t wearing a military uniform, just the most ordinary of clothes, but they did nothing to conceal the sharp, imposing aura about him.
"Marshal!"
A collective gasp swept through the room, as if no one could believe their eyes.
Halse, in particular, was so moved his eyes began to redden. "Marshal, you’re all right!"
"I knew you would be all right." It had been so long with no word from below, and the higher-ups had been relentlessly tracking Ethan Cross’s movements.
They were hoping to uncover information about the Marshal through him.
A while ago, they had heard rumors that the Marshal might still be alive, but the source was unclear.
They had been trying to contact Ethan Cross ever since, but there was never any concrete news from his end.
It was during that time that news of the Marshal’s possible survival reached the Capital Planet, making them somewhat wary. Some of their clandestine activities died down, giving Halse’s side a chance to breathe.
But as the days passed with only rumors of the Marshal’s survival and no actual appearance, those on the Capital Planet began watching like hawks again. Gradually, they started to believe the rumors were just a delaying tactic released by the Marshal’s loyalists.
After that, they acted without restraint. Backed by The Council of Elders, they constantly pressured The First Legion, trying to break it apart.
And that led to this very moment—they were actually trying to seize control of The First Legion!
The First Legion belongs to The Royal Family and is commanded by the Marshal. With Your Majesty gravely ill, one could only imagine what it would mean if control of The First Legion was handed over.
Just when they thought everything was within their grasp, they never expected the Marshal to not only be alive, but to return safe and sound.
Unlike Halse, Drovi felt as if he had been plunged into an ice cellar. A chill so deep shot through him that he could feel his teeth chattering.
"M-Marshal." His voice trembled as he spoke.
He had only one thought: ’It’s over!’
’Completely and utterly over!’
Cillian Forrest glanced at him expressionlessly, then slowly raised his eyes to look at Earl Thatcher, who was seated in the main chair.
Thatcher’s heart pounded in his chest under that gaze. He immediately shot up from his seat, his movements frantic with fear, even stumbling as he stood.
"Marshal." He didn’t even dare to meet his eyes as he spoke.
After standing up, he took several steps back, as if wishing he could hide himself away.
Cillian Forrest slowly walked over and sat down in the main chair. His expression was calm, his posture almost languid.
"Sit." He raised a hand, addressing the people before him.
The excitement in Halse’s heart had not subsided; it churned within him. The moment Cillian Forrest finished speaking, he suppressed his elation and sat down.
Drovi and Thatcher, however, were the complete opposite. Far from sitting, they didn’t dare to move a muscle. Beads of sweat trickled down their temples, yet they didn’t dare to wipe them away.
Drovi, in particular, was filled with bitter regret. Why had he ever listened to Thatcher!
Cillian Forrest looked up at Drovi, his tone even as he asked, "Why aren’t you sitting?"
Drovi wiped away his sweat and glanced at Thatcher out of the corner of his eye. He then cautiously moved to take his seat just below Cillian Forrest.
The next second, a wave of spiritual power swept past, and the chair was instantly thrown aside.
Drovi looked up at Ethan Cross, his eyes blazing with fury.
Ethan Cross saw nothing wrong with his actions. ’A traitor who betrayed The First Legion still thinks he deserves a seat?’
Because of Cillian Forrest’s calm demeanor moments ago, Drovi had been holding onto a sliver of hope. After all, his rank in The First Legion was high, and he commanded a significant number of soldiers. ’The Marshal probably won’t move against me right now,’ he had thought.
’After all, the Marshal’s attitude just now didn’t seem particularly angry.’
’From a strategic perspective, with the Marshal’s fate unknown, the army couldn’t be without a commander. My actions were justifiable. The Marshal should be able to understand that.’
’The Marshal himself hadn’t even said anything, yet this Ethan Cross dared to treat me like this!’
But because of what had just happened, he could only glare at Ethan Cross, his anger suppressed.
Ethan Cross ignored his fury, sneering inwardly. ’Idiot.’
Halse shared Ethan Cross’s sentiment.
The Marshal’s silence regarding Ethan’s action was the most direct explanation. As the Marshal’s adjutant, Ethan’s actions represented the Marshal himself. Drovi not only failed to understand this but even harbored wishful thinking. ’If he isn’t an idiot, what is he?’
A storm of thoughts raged in everyone’s minds, but no one dared to be the first to speak, plunging the conference room into an oppressive silence.
Cillian Forrest sat languidly in the main chair, his fingers resting on the armrest, tapping lightly.
TAP. TAP. In the silent room, the sound was unnervingly clear. To Drovi, Thatcher, and their faction, each tap was like a hammer blow to their hearts, a death knell.
In the suffocating silence, their panic was infinitely magnified.
Finally, Cillian Forrest lifted his gaze, his tone impossibly level. "I hear you were planning to select someone to take over command of The First Legion?"
Drovi didn’t dare to make a sound.
Thatcher, standing off to the side, spoke with a submissive tone. "Marshal, it was only to be a temporary command. Now that you’ve returned, you are, of course, still the commander of The First Legion."
"Is that so?" Cillian Forrest said softly.
"Yes, of course," Drovi immediately chimed in. "You have no idea how worried we were during your absence. We sent so many people to look for you."
"You see, Major General Cross found you, but he didn’t say a word to us. He let us make such fools of ourselves." Drovi spoke rapidly, his words even carrying a hint of complaint directed at Ethan Cross.
Cillian Forrest couldn’t be bothered to continue the charade. He raised his hand.
"We..."
Drovi had just opened his mouth when an immense wave of spiritual power slammed into him. Before he could finish his sentence, he was thrown backward, letting out a piercing scream.
Cillian Forrest narrowed his eyes. "Noisy."
Instantly, the screaming stopped.
"Ethan Cross," Cillian Forrest said.
"Yes, Marshal." Ethan Cross immediately understood his meaning and projected the data he had collected onto the virtual screen before them.
On it was a long, dense list of names—everyone who had colluded with outside forces during this period. The traitors.
Ethan had even thoughtfully included every single action they had taken, each one annotated in meticulous detail.
He hadn’t been idle all this time. Investigating all this in secret had taken a great deal of effort.
The moment Thatcher saw it, his heart sank into despair.
He opened his mouth, struggling to speak. "Marshal, please let me explain..."
The next second, a look of agony crossed Thatcher’s face. He clutched his throat, the words catching in his windpipe. He couldn’t make a sound. "I... ah... ah..."
This turn of events silenced everyone in the conference room. No one dared to speak.
Then, Cillian Forrest slowly spoke, announcing the verdict. "Drovi will be dealt with according to military regulations."
For betraying The First Legion, undermining the army, and plotting to kill one’s comrades, the military regulations had only one punishment.
Death.
He then turned his emotionless gaze to Thatcher. "As for you."
Thatcher couldn’t speak, his entire body trembling in fear that Cillian Forrest would kill him too.
"You are not a member of my First Legion, so I won’t kill you. Weren’t those people so eager for news of me? Go and deliver my message for me."
Choked by the spiritual power, Thatcher struggled to breathe, managing only a difficult nod.
Cillian Forrest raised his hand and abruptly withdrew the spiritual power. "Get out."