"Bastard, you still had the nerve to come back alive!" Little Pretoria slapped Wiggins across the face after he fled from East Africa.
As President of the Republic of the Transvaal, Little Pretoria should have retired from his post this year. But East Africa's sudden invasion had kept him in office.
As the eldest son of Andries Pretoria, the leader who had led the Boers through the Great Trek, Little Pretoria's prestige among the Boers was unmatched. He had once served as the leader of both the Republic of the Transvaal and the Orange Free State, pushing for the merger of the two countries. But his methods had been too crude—or perhaps the spoils had not been divided evenly—so he had failed.
A bright red handprint remained on Wiggins's face, the burning pain flaring faintly, yet before Little Pretoria, he did not even dare breathe too loudly.
"Mr. President, this was all an East African conspiracy. They never told me that letter was a declaration of war. They even handed it to me so casually—it was clearly meant to lull me into carelessness. Then, while I was delivering the letter, they launched a surprise attack on the Transvaal. The East Africans had been harboring wolfish ambitions all along; they had calculated everything in advance!" Wiggins said.
"Hmph. Saying more now is useless. Because of your carelessness, we lost at least several days of reaction time. The East Africans are now racing toward Pretoria from the banks of the Limpopo River, yet we have no way to mobilize troops to stop them. Such enormous responsibility cannot be written off with a single claim of an East African conspiracy!"
Although Little Pretoria wanted nothing more than to drag out Wiggins, that useless fool who ruined every undertaking, and have him shot, he