The Restoration of Rome: In the Name of Augustus

Chapter 181 "Wild Boar" Alexei Branas

Chapter 181 "Wild Boar" Alexei Branagh (Part Two)

After saying all that, Leon took a heavy breath.

I thought that after hearing these words, Branagh's attitude would soften.

However, Branagh's reaction was completely beyond Lyon's expectations.

He showed no sign of being choked or reflecting on his actions; instead, as if he had heard something extremely ridiculous, he let out a low, sarcastic chuckle.

"Basilius? Alexius Komnenos?" He repeated the name, his light-colored eyes filled with undisguised contempt. "You mean that brat who hid behind his mother's skirt, only managing to avoid being devoured by that old fox Andronica thanks to a few loyal old ministers left by the late Emperor Manuel and that old bone of Cantostefanos?"

His voice suddenly rose, sharp and venting: "Cowardice! Indecisiveness! What right does he have, besides his bloodline, to sit beneath the Hagia Sophia and receive the adoration of millions? You say he thwarted Andronica?"

He burst into laughter: "Hahaha! This is probably the funniest joke I've heard all year! It's just as ridiculous as your loyal knight Henry trying to pin the credit for defeating the Turks on you, you little brat!"

To uphold his master's pitiful authority, he would even offer up what he had earned with his sword and his brains—truly, his loyalty is beyond question!

The entire audience was astonished.

Not only Lyon and Henry, but even some of the Imperial soldiers who vaguely sensed it all changed color instantly.

To openly and venomously slander the current emperor goes far beyond mere discontent or grumbling; it is nothing short of blatant rebellion.

Branas made no attempt to conceal his true intentions, speaking so brazenly on the battlefield where the battle had just ended, in front of the crown prince from an allied nation.

Lyon's heart pounded.

He knew that Branas was ambitious and arrogant, but he never expected him to be so brazen!

They've really stopped acting altogether!

Henry's hand had already quietly rested on the hilt of his sword, his eyes sharp as knives, fixed on Branas and the guards around him.

Leon forced himself to calm down, his mind racing.

He took a breath, suppressing his anger, and slowly asked, "Your Excellency Branas—it seems you are extremely dissatisfied with His Majesty Basilius. Then, in your heart, is there already a more suitable candidate—one who can restore Rome's prestige and is worthy of the purple robe?"

Upon hearing this, Branas narrowed his eyes sharply, his piercing gaze once again fixed on Lyon.

A moment later, a ferocious grin spread across his face.

"The internal affairs of the empire, and who should wear the crown, are Romans' own business," he said, his voice lowering. "It's none of your business—you Latins from overseas."

He sneered, "All you need to know is who can protect the empire's territory on the battlefield; that's who the real pillar is."

At this moment, Henry stepped forward, blocking Lyon's path slightly to the side, and questioned, "Commander Branas, allow me to remind you. Whatever your views on the internal affairs of the Empire, at least for this moment, we are allies who came at the invitation of the Emperor and the Grand Marshal. And you, as the commander of the Eastern Front, first conveyed information that could mislead our army, putting us in danger, and then arrived late. Now that you have relieved the siege, instead of being grateful, you are so disrespectful to my lord. Is this the magnanimity Rome shows to its allies, or is this your personal way of governing?"

Faced with Henry's questioning, Branas did not get angry. Instead, he seemed to have heard something perfectly reasonable and calmly adjusted the reins.

"Allies?" he scoffed. "Your allies are Alexius Komnenos, that kid sitting in the Great Palace of Constantinople, and his overly cautious Kantostefanos. They requested your support for political reasons. As for me, Alexei Branas, I was merely appointed temporarily to deal with the troubles in the east. My relationship with you is solely based on cooperation during the current war; there is no blood ties or alliance between us."

He swept his gaze across Lyon and Henry, coldly saying, "Basilius sent you to help me, so your value lies in maximizing your contribution, drawing the Turks' attention, and creating opportunities for me. I used you as bait? Yes. But is there a problem with that?"

He spread one hand, his tone matter-of-fact: "War is all about results. The result was that a detachment of the Turks was severely damaged, while our losses were negligible. You accomplished your task of drawing fire, and I accomplished my task of annihilating the enemy. It was a very fair collaboration."

He paused, then said sarcastically, "If you feel indignant and wronged, very well, go to Constantinople, to the magnificent palace, to your young hero, His Majesty Basilius, and weep to him, demanding the reward and consolation you deserve. Perhaps he will reward you with a few gold nomismas, or a piece of silk embroidered with a double-headed eagle? As for me—"

He shook his head, his tone resolute: "I won't give you anything. I'll reward my own troops."

Shameless! Utterly shameless, without any attempt to hide it!

Leon felt like his lungs were about to explode with anger.

Since his time travel, he has seen madmen like Reynald, powerful rulers like Saladin, veteran generals like Cantorstefanos, and even various conspiracies and schemes in the court, but he has never encountered anyone so reckless, so utterly shameless, and so righteous in making political calculations and military exploitation sound so justified!

Holy crap, this has really opened my eyes.

Lyon forcibly suppressed his surging anger, forcing his voice to at least sound calm: "In that case, Commander Branas, please be clear about your next move. According to several Turkic prisoners, the main force of the Turkic Sultan is besieging the Dolium fortress. Do you require the cooperation of our Jerusalem army?"

This was Lyon's final probe, and an attempt to maintain a superficial level of cooperation.

If Branagh refuses even this —

Branas, mounted on his horse, looked down at Lyon with indifferent eyes: "Dollyrum? That's my battlefield."

you?"

He paused, then curled his lip again: "If you want to come along and see how the real Roman legions fight, then come along. If you think my place is too small to accommodate your distinguished reinforcements, or if you're afraid of being used again—"

He pointed westward, the direction they had come from: "Then please. Return to Nicaea, or continue westward to Thrace, to Sylmith, where Marshal Cantostefanos is personally in charge, and there are many more imperial officials who will treat you with utmost respect and honor. They will surely accept your assistance with tears of gratitude."

The intention of expelling Branagh is self-evident.

Lyon's face was ashen, and his last shred of composure was about to crumble.

He turned away from Branas and towards Henry, his face full of frustration, and commanded, "Order the entire army to cease combat, treat the wounded, and inventory the equipment. Half an hour later, break camp, and we—"

He practically spat out the word through gritted teeth: "Retreat to the Nicaean camp."

Having said that, he ignored the arrogant old general on horseback, turned around, straightened his back, and walked towards his own chariot formation.

Henry gave Branagh a deep look, his gaze incredibly complex.

He said nothing and followed Lyon away.