The prime minister, who had been clutching his head and pretending to be a piece of furniture, finally understood. Marshal Ferragu's loyalty to his benefactor was genuine, but so was his hope for that young man.
He wanted to preserve Mao Yuanzuo's good name after his death in his own way, while also ensuring that all the rotten, outdated, rigid old baggage wouldn't become a shackle around the young man.
He didn't know whether Mao Yuanzuo had understood, but he had.
The prime minister heard Mao Yuanzuo sigh. "That young man... He really is a born leader. Yes, Paul, if I were you, I'd place my hopes in him, too. If he'd been born fifty years earlier and naturally taken over from Victoria, things wouldn't have come to this."
Marshal Ferragu stared blankly at Mr. Mao as he spoke at length. It all sounded exactly like something he would have said, but after a moment's hesitation, his gaze gradually grew resolute. "Sir, you and everyone here will be detained until the Imperial Army arrives on this planet. Rest assured, you won't be harmed."
Apparently relieved to hear that they would live, the prime minister, who had been pretending to be furniture, perked up again. He couldn't help looking up at the marshal, only to see a silent determination in his eyes.
Nothing was more stirring than a silent determination, not even a grand and impassioned one.
The prime minister was inevitably shaken, and plainly confused as well. He sighed. "Paul, after everything you've done, was it all just to keep us detained for a few more days?"
Marshal Ferragu didn't answer directly, but his expression remained calm. "As long as the artillery fired from Earth and the Moon is aimed at the Imperial fleet, that will be enough to represent