Chapter 511: Doctor.
Strut raised a brow. However, before he could respond, the door swung inward with a confidence that suggested the person on the other side had never once considered the possibility of being denied entry.
A handsome, dark-skinned man appeared in the doorway, his presence filling the space with an almost palpable ease. His expression was calm, as though he were stepping into his personal bedroom rather than the office of a fortress commander—a man who, by all rights, should have commanded a degree of deference. He wore the distinctive deep crimson coat of the Blood Lotus division, its high collar embroidered with silver threading that caught what little light the dying afternoon offered. Beneath it, his armor was lighter than standard issue, designed for mobility rather than prolonged siege work, and it bore none of the scratches or dents that marked Gauss’s plate. His boots were clean, almost pristine, as if mud and blood knew better than to stain them.
Strut frowned, his expression darkening with the particular annoyance reserved for old acquaintances who refused to observe basic courtesy.
Gauss nearly fell from his chair, his exhaustion forgotten in an instant as recognition flooded his features. "Sir Lyon!" he exclaimed, bowing sharply with the fervor of a man who had just found himself in the presence of legend. "It is an honor. Your transfer to the Blood Lotus is nothing short of a blessing for the—!"
Lyon waved a hand in dismissal, the gesture fluid and dismissive, as though swatting away an insect. "Captain. You appear worn from your travels..."
The words were polite enough on the surface, but there was a subtle weight to them—a suggestion that Gauss’s presence was no longer required now that more important matters had arrived. The captain, to his credit, understood immediately.
"I—I should take my leave," Gauss stammered, already rising, his boots scraping against the floor as he moved toward the door with barely concealed haste. His helm remained on the table, momentarily forgotten in his urgency to vacate the room.
Before Strut could speak, before he could even formulate a protest or offer Gauss some reassurance, the captain was already retreating down the hall, his footsteps echoing away into the depths of the fortress. The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving the room empty except for the two of them. The silence that followed was thick, pregnant with unspoken history.
Strut exhaled slowly through his nose and studied Lyon carefully, taking in the man’s too-casual posture, the faint amusement playing at the corners of his mouth, the way he stood as if the world existed solely for his entertainment.
"You are a rude man," he said flatly.