Chapter 518: An Interesting Conversation
(Righteous Faction, Officers Mess Hall. 7:01 AM)
The scent of eggs, toasted bread, and overly boiled lentils filled the wide mess hall as Leo and Veyr strode in with the posture of men who belonged there, their boots polished to perfection and their shoulders squared just enough to project command without arrogance, as their footsteps echoed softly against the clean stone tiles beneath.
They didn’t look around nervously or hesitate near the entrance like guests would, instead navigating the hall with the casual certainty of officers who had done this routine countless times, nodding to a few familiar faces that they had memorized during mission briefing and returning salutes without a hint of discomfort, as they moved toward the long rectangular table reserved exclusively for base Lieutenants.
Veyr adjusted the cuffs on his uniform just as Leo slid into his usual spot, right side, second chair from the head of the table, cutting into the slightly rubbery-looking ham steak on his plate without so much as glancing at the officers across him.
However, sitting just beside him, a dark-haired lieutenant with a thick moustache scrunched up his nose.
"Gosh, Larry," he muttered, leaning back a little. "You smell like a rat took a shit in your hair."
"And not a small rat either," another added from the left. "Maybe a pregnant one, who somehow also took a dump in Aaron’s hair.... What have you two been rolling around in?"
All eyes turned towards Leo and Veyr, but Leo didn’t flinch at all under the scrutiny.
He simply raised his fork and knife with the sort of elegant precision that would’ve made Amanda proud, sliced a neat piece of egg, and replied with complete nonchalance, "The two of us visited the maintenance workers office this morning, to do something about the foul-smelling sink problem that’s been giving everyone grief."
He paused only to chew once before continuing, "We met with the cleaning supervisor, Barry. Told him the issue needs to be fixed today or he will be in trouble and I guess a bit of his scent lingered."
Veyr, already buttering a hard roll with casual ease, nodded along. "Should be solved before noon. We made sure of it."
The others at the table visibly perked up at that, two of them giving half-hearted claps, another raising his cup in mock salute.
"Well, damn. That’s the best news I’ve heard this month, I hated walking into the bathroom each morning and smelling like rotten eggs," said a tall woman with sharp cheekbones and slicked-back copper hair. "Only thing that comes close is the rumor that the Evil Cult’s newest Dragon is already dead, as those are the only two pieces of good news I’ve heard recently"
There was a half-second pause as both Leo and Veyr momentarily locked eyes, with Leo begging Veyr to hold it in and not react.
’Don’t show anything—’
Leo said through his eyes, before breaking the silence slowly as he raised his cup towards his lips.
"I wouldn’t count on that," he said, his tone grounded and steady, "The Cult Dragons are a lot of things, but weak isn’t one of them."
A few nods followed, murmurs of agreement rippling across the table, as the copper-haired woman, who they knew to be Claire from their mission report, apparently rolled her eyes and spoke between mouthfuls.
"Oh come on. You guys don’t get it. Dupravel killed Noah. The previous Dragon. The one even the Universal Government labeled a genius amongst geniuses. And the serpent crushed him. So what makes you think he couldn’t do the same to this new one? Aegon, or whatever?"
Another officer chuckled. "Here we go again with the ’Dupravel did it’ theory. Let it go, Claire."
Claire scoffed. "I’m serious. If Dupravel failed, the Cult would be shouting it from the rooftops, showing proof of Aegon’s power to silence morale damage. But they haven’t. They’ve been eerily quiet. Their new Dragon hasn’t made a single public appearance as of late, has he?"
Leo stabbed his sausage slowly, spinning it on his fork as he let out a soft, calculated hum.
"Or maybe they don’t feel the need to answer every rumor the media throws around," he replied, voice calm, firm, and just skeptical enough to stay in character. "The Cult manipulates information. Sure. But so do we."
Claire shrugged, not entirely convinced. "Still. Doesn’t sit right. I’m telling you, something happened that day. Something big."
Across the table, Veyr took a sip of water and cleared his throat.
"Whatever happened, it doesn’t change anything for us. If Aegon’s alive, he’ll show up eventually. And if he’s dead, then we’ll celebrate properly when we get confirmation. Either way, it’s not our job to speculate."
A silence followed, brief and weighty, before the conversation drifted to other topics such as recent deployments, patrol shifts, and the arrival of a new Major next week.
Leo remained composed, his gaze flicking occasionally between the officers and what they were speaking, as he noted everything from their body language to their tone.
Nobody seemed to suspect anything wrong with him or Veyr, as they seemed to have infiltrated the enemy ranks without raising a single flag.
’The Cult might be incompetent in a lot of aspects, but this [Shapeshift] technique is the real deal.
If I can sit here amongst some of the best soldiers on an enemy base and somehow still manage to evade suspicion about my real identity, then this really might be the best disguise in the universe...’ Leo concluded, as he felt a faint desire to learn the other Cult secret skills soon.
—---------
At 8:00 am sharp, Leo began with his morning rounds as a Lieutenant, as he began gathering information on the current base logistics, troop deployments, and any unresolved disciplinary reports that had stacked up under Lieutenant Larry’s purview.
His boots echoed crisply across the eastern barrack corridor as he moved with measured confidence, a tablet in one hand and a pen in the other, nodding to guards and scribes who stood to attention the moment they saw him approach.
He signed off requisition slips for ammo restocks and approved a scheduled maintenance delay for one of the outer perimeter towers, casually flipping through files as if he’d been doing this routine for years instead of mere minutes.
"Lieutenant," one soldier stammered as he approached, holding a file out with two hands. "The drill rosters for the week, as per Captain Elric’s request."
Leo accepted it without breaking stride, glancing through the columns as his mind silently cross-referenced troop numbers with the data he’d memorized before coming on this mission.
"Add a half-hour endurance circuit on Wednesday morning," he said, handing it back. "Too many reports of fatigue spikes during long patrols. Let’s address it early."
The soldier saluted as Leo walked off, maintaining a pace that commanded attention, never once letting the faint sewer stench on his collar betray his composure.
By all appearances, Lieutenant Larry was on morning field duty as usual, looking sharp, efficient, and just like his usual disciplined self, with his stride firm, his tone crisp and his authority unquestioned.
As no one suspected a thing otherwise.
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