Hearing that familiar tone, Mafarna set down his book, turned to the blond young man, and said with a smile, "Kahe, I'll have to trouble you again."
The blond young man rolled his neck, walked over to the desk, picked up the teacup, and drained it in one gulp without caring whether his father had drunk from it. Then he said, "Honestly, I told you long ago not to take over the Twelfth Legion. Even becoming a deputy marshal in charge of logistics in another legion would have been better than this, but you wouldn't listen. Now there's a problem, isn't there?"
"Your old man spent half his life as an assistant. I just wanted to experience being a marshal for once, but—"
The blond young man waved a hand, cutting Mafarna off without ceremony. "You didn't expect all this to happen. I was right, wasn't I?"
"Things have come to this. You're not going to abandon your father, are you?" Mafarna spread his hands and put on a shameless expression as he looked at his son.
"Fine. Tell me everything you know so far." The blond young man held his head and spoke helplessly.
"Alright."
Seeing this, Mafarna stopped wasting words and recounted all the intelligence he knew.
Leaning against the desk with his waist pressed against its edge, the blond young man stroked his chin. He turned everything his father had told him into individual points, linked them together, and began analyzing them.
Seeing his son deep in thought, Mafarna did not interrupt him. He went to the side, brewed a pot of tea, took out two cups, and filled them.
More than ten minutes later, the blond young man stopped thinking. He turned to Mafarna, picked up the teacup on the table, took a sip, and slowly