The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 365: Life and Death Promise
Half an hour ago, Clayton Bellew returned to the Big Tree House Tavern after a long absence.

The owner of this pub is a retired soldier. Due to his love for his career, both active-duty military personnel and veterans who come here can get preferential treatment on the price of drinks, resulting in a group of men with military experience drinking here all day long.

Except for those religious fanatics from the Salvation Army who come to the pub to preach, anyone who can shoot a gun is welcome here. It can be called a club.

Clayton used to come here often, and it was here that he met Bruno and some other friends.

He had some spare money, was generous, had won some honors in the army, and was handsome. These small advantages made him somewhat famous here, and other regular customers liked him.

However, today, as soon as he arrived at the store, all the drinkers looked at him and smiled.

"Clayton, you changed your hairstyle. Do you know you're in the book?" someone asked.

Clayton looked at him in surprise.

Someone stood up and read something he had seen from somewhere: "There are two types of commanders in the cavalry. One likes to gather ideas and delegate power to others, and the other is arbitrary and does not tolerate any opinions." Before he could finish his words, he was pulled down by his companions.

Another laughed so hard that he was out of breath, but he still insisted on saying something incomprehensible: "A good hussar should not live to be thirty years old, but he has survived to this day."

A voice came from the other side of the room: "We can tell from the frequency with which this unit recruits soldiers that it has actually participated in very few battles. Its greatest achievement may be protecting logistics."

Clayton hesitated for a moment, but still squeezed through the crowded tables and chairs and walked quickly inside. However, the further he went inside, the weirder the behavior of these acquaintances became. Their heads turned with him like sunflowers facing the sun, and every face had a cheerful smile, as if they were controlled by a magical power of joy.

This is really weird, Clayton muttered worriedly in his heart. His body was tense and he was alert to his surroundings. He once again suspected that it was Chude Osmar's dying curse that affected him.

But he fulfilled the old man's last wish last night! How could this happen?
He walked all the way to the counter, and the bartender put the book down that was covering his face and turned it around on the table for him to see.

Clayton had to take off his sunglasses briefly to read the text. Everyone else looked at him, as if expecting him to express his thoughts.

It turned out to be a newly published military book that mentioned his name and used two full pages to criticize him as a negative example.

Some of the problems include what those people just mentioned.

The author first praised dictatorship in the cavalry as a good way of command, and then turned to criticize Clayton, saying that although he was a dictator, he was a cowardly dictator. His troops had fought on so many battlefields, but compared with other cavalry units, they had very few casualties. This was obviously because he was cowardly as a commander, and he did not deserve the royal commendation at all.

The book also includes a detailed data chart comparing the number of personnel shortages in different troops, which looks quite realistic.

Seeing this, Clayton couldn't help but yelled: "Ridiculous!"

He was large and heavy, and indeed not a very gifted rider, and everyone knew that, but he always led his men into battle, and watched his men's backs when he retreated, and none of the cavalrymen who served under him would call him a coward.

As for the secret of his frequent participation in combat operations yet very few casualties, it was naturally because the other cavalry units were in a mess.

Unlike the Towton people, in Dorne's tactical system, cavalry is just a vassal of the infantry, and no one knows how to train cavalry. All the military commanders do is to cram all those who have horse riding experience into the cavalry.

Clayton just did his best in this regard, but unexpectedly it became the evidence of his own guilt.

Amid the laughter of the people around him, he suppressed his anger and continued watching.

Then, the author mentioned that Clayton Bello's dereliction of duty was undoubtedly also the marshal's dereliction of duty. Recruiting an atheist into the cavalry unit would naturally lead to such a failure, because the lack of faith would make people more afraid of death, and it would also make it impossible for soldiers to work together - in the past, hussars only recruited white believers, which was the tradition of the cavalry. Even if it was to be changed, a separate army should be set up to stuff all atheists into it, and they should not be mixed with theists.

This paragraph cannot be said to be completely wrong. The cavalry does have such a tradition, but exceptions are made in special circumstances.

Clayton continued to look down.

Here is another paragraph of slanderous remarks against him.

"In order to write a rigorous book, the author also interviewed Clayton Bello's former superior, Colonel Maxine, who commented on Clayton as 'good-looking', which shows that he actually has no real talent or knowledge. Otherwise, even out of the sense of maintaining the honor of the troops, his superiors should have mentioned his military talents."

Clayton felt relieved when he saw Colonel Maxine's name.

Clayton once had the experience of commanding 300 people, thanks to Colonel Maxine who gave him the power to command other troops. However, if bystanders think that Colonel Maxine is his benefactor, they are very wrong.

While Clayton and his three hundred soldiers were fighting the Towtons, Colonel Maxine was on vacation in the country.

In the military reforms in the later stages of the war, Colonel Maxine was also one of those who retired with honor - because his rank was bought.

"That bastard wrote this book?!" He waved the book, originally asking a question to vent his anger, after all, the author's name was written on the cover. Unexpectedly, there was a drunk man who was unconscious and was held up by the people next to him.

"This is the author." The person next to him said proudly.

"He came in with his books, trying to prove how much he knows about military affairs. He also wanted to ask us some questions so that he could continue his research on the Loren War, but he was so arrogant that he would refute everything we said. So we managed to get him drunk, and we were planning to throw him out the door later to deal with him, but we didn't expect you to come today. So we'll leave him to you."

Looking at the drunk scholar, Clayton clenched his fists for a moment, then unclenched them.

After all, beating an insane person is not right.

He searched for Henry Motto's business card in his pocket, intending to find out his address first so that he could settle the score with him later.

Unexpectedly, the drunk suddenly woke up and grabbed his arm: "Little thief, put your hand down."

Clayton pulled his hand back, looking unhappy: "I am not a thief, I am the one you slandered. Clayton Bello, do you still remember this name?"

"Cracken? I'm not slandering anyone." The scholar seemed to be breathing in beer vapor, and his whole body smelled. He shook his head, sat back on the chair, and hit the table heavily, almost knocking over all the drinks and food on it. His funny behavior made the people around him burst into laughter again.

However, the drunk's next words silenced the soldiers in the tavern.

"In this battle, you all fought badly and were afraid of death! Otherwise, we could have won, truly won." He waved his arms like a fanatical orator, but he forgot he was sitting, and this action hit the head of the person next to him.

The smiles disappeared from the soldiers' faces.

It is true that the outcome of the Loren War was not a great victory as the civilians said, because the people of Towton also thought it was their victory.

As we all know, it is impossible for a war to have two winners at the same time.

Even the soldiers involved in the war were not quite sure who the real winner of the war was. They only knew that one day, news of the two countries' peace talks came out, and then the upper echelons quickly finalized the peace outcome. However, they did not know which side first proposed the peace talks, just as they did not know the cause of the war.

But they couldn't admit that they had lost. No one was willing to admit that after paying so many lives, the outcome was still ambiguous.

"What do you mean we didn't fight well?" A soldier who had participated in the war stood up angrily next to the scholar, his right trouser leg was empty: "We sacrificed 300,000 people and I even sacrificed a leg, and you only judge us from behind the safety of the place!"

"Is three hundred thousand a lot?" the scholar asked drunkenly, sniffling. "In our country, there are more than three hundred thousand patriotic workers who sacrifice their lives for industrial development every year. You have been fighting for several years, and only so few people have died. You are simply - ungrateful for the sacrifices of the patriotic workers, and you are not worthy of being compared with them. You are also unworthy of our expectations of you." "Fuck your mother!"

The roar that almost blew the roof off drowned out his words, and there was more than one person shouting.

The next moment, the entire Big Tree House Tavern was in an uproar. The veterans who had participated in the war stopped drinking and rushed over, knocking over the tables and chairs, not caring about the bottles and plates that smashed into pieces on the ground. Those who were close grabbed the scholar's hair and slapped him hard, while those who were far away stretched out their legs to kick him a few times. Clayton Bello, who had come to question the scholar at the beginning, became an outsider.

The former lieutenant actually wanted to take action against this bastard, but after seeing how his other friends performed, he felt that there was no difference between him and himself.

If he took action, he might have beaten Henry Motto to death. It would be better to let an ordinary person do it.

"Stop! What are you doing?!"

A shout came from the door, and a handsome young soldier stood there glaring at them, his left hand on the hilt of his sword. The retired soldiers turned around, shocked by his clothes and stopped all their movements.

His face was unfamiliar, and he must have been an officer from another province. The stars and crown on the collar of his dark blue marine coat indicated that he was a captain.

Such a young captain must be a noble.

Clayton stepped forward and told the captain what scholar Henry Motto had just said.

Everyone thought that they could either continue to beat Henry Motto, or he was lucky and they had to let him go, but the young captain's answer still surprised them.

"Isn't what he said right?" the captain asked coldly to the soldiers who had more or less permanent scars on their bodies.

He was tall and straight, making them look ugly and short, and his status as an active-duty officer also gave him more say than these retired soldiers.

Several retired soldiers felt aggrieved and wanted to speak up to defend themselves, but he suppressed them again.

"You participated in the war and paid a lot, but that doesn't mean anything. You didn't let the people of Towton suffer enough, and now they dare to claim to the civilians of their own country that they won the Loren War. This is your fault!"

He made an unreasonable conclusion.

"What about you? Didn't you participate in the war? You were too old to go to the battlefield at that time, right?" Clayton stepped forward and asked back in the same cold tone.

He was larger and taller than the captain, but the latter remained undaunted and arrogant.

"I didn't join the war, but that was because I hadn't left the Royal Military Academy yet. If I had joined the war, I could have disciplined you, a bunch of rubbish who only knew how to spend their days in the tavern feeling sad and bullying the civilians. The outcome of the war might have been different."

"Many senior officers at the time bought their positions because of their incompetence," Clayton said seriously. "If you want to criticize, you should criticize those in high positions for allowing such a phenomenon, not ordinary soldiers with low military positions."

He had to fight for justice for these friends, and it was also fighting for justice for himself.

But the captain did not change his attitude: "As far as I know, the military reform was completed before the end of the war. Those people left the army voluntarily or involuntarily, and a group of new officers were promoted. But you did not save the situation in the last year, and you just tied with the Towton people."

Hearing this, Clayton could no longer tolerate such an insult. He sighed deeply and asked, "May I ask your name?"

"George Silver," said the captain proudly.

Clayton did not answer. He recalled the noble friends he knew, but did not find any similar surnames, so he laughed happily.

"Why, what do you want to say?" asked the captain.

Clayton smiled even more brightly: "Now I know that you are not of the same race as my friend. This way, I don't have to apologize to anyone if I kill you."

George Silver put his hand on the hilt again: "You want to attack an active officer? I can execute you right now."

Clayton answered him: "Wrong, it was not an attack, it was a fair and square duel."

After that, Clayton turned back and shouted at the counter: "Boss, do you have any weapons?"

Without waiting, a flintlock rifle and a long sword were thrown from behind the counter and caught in his hands. The soldiers around him looked at him with burning eyes, impressed by his heroism.

Seeing his practiced moves, George Silver hesitated.

"Choose your fucking weapon quick, boy!"

Seeing his hesitation, Clayton Belle changed his attitude. While speaking viciously to the young officer in front of him, he slammed his sword and pistol on the table together, making a loud noise.

"Pick a way to die. Don't say I asked you to use an unfamiliar weapon. You also carry a sword and a gun!"

George almost agreed, but then he thought of something and refused reluctantly, "No, I can't duel with you, not because I'm timid, but because I have to continue riding to another city to deliver a confidential message."

He was afraid that others would say he was a coward, so he added, "I don't mean that I will lose. On the contrary, I believe that you will die. But since I have undertaken such a mission, I must deliver the message. Even if there is only a one in ten thousand chance of failure in a duel with you, I should not let this one in ten thousand chance exist."

"Is this a military secret?" Clayton asked.

George shook his head. "It's just a private secret, but I need to keep my word."

Clayton showed him more respect: "Okay, you can tell me this confidential news. I swear in the name of Clayton Bello that I will not let this news spread and will deliver this news on time."

"Clayton Bello" George Silver also recalled it and said with some embarrassment: "But you are an unknown person, and you really can't prove anything with your name."

This comment made Clayton forget all the respect he had just shown.

The wolf's blood was boiling and he could no longer suppress it. He waved his hand fiercely and said, "Everyone here is the notary of our duel. If I can't do it, I will be despised by this city, my reputation will be ruined, and I will not be tolerated by my relatives and friends!"

All the soldiers stood up straight and responded to him in unison.

Seeing his determination and the solemnity of the soldiers, George Silver finally put aside his arrogance and nodded solemnly.

The two wrote a suicide note in front of everyone.

Then George whispered the secret and the person who would receive it in Clayton's ear, and then the two of them walked out of the room and raised their swords at the same time from a distance.

"What a pity." George looked at Clayton and said regretfully, "If you didn't know this secret, I would have spared you even in a duel. But now I have to kill you to keep it secret."

Clayton was furious: "I swear on my own name, I will kill you and then help you pass the message to the police!"