As soon as An stepped into the room, he sneezed earth-shatteringly.
The female warriors themselves did not reject the scent. In fact, Ann herself preferred the smell of thyme. She will deliberately choose soaps mixed with these essential oils, and the washed clothes will have a faint scent of thyme.
But the scent was very light, except for Nemo, whose senses were beyond the realm of human beings, and normal people would have to get very close to smell it - just that female warriors usually wouldn't allow others to get that close.
The aroma in the room is on a whole other level. The aroma is elegant and heavy, with a cold and arrogant sweetness.
It's a pity that the soldier's sensitive nose can't stand the strong scent of perfume after long-term activities. Ann sneezed one after another, tears streaming from her eyes.
Adrian was the first to react, and silently handed over the par. An quickly grabbed the life-saving straw, nodded gratefully to the knight commander, and then blew his nose forcefully.
"My God, did they blow up a perfume shop here?" Ten seconds later, she finally moved her nose away from Pa, and muttered softly. The effect of the series of sneezes was still there, and Ann's voice was a little grumpy.
It's a pity that Marshal Gallagher's hearing is obviously good, and his face is a little blue visibly.
Since the five of Tumbleweed entered the door, Gallagher moved back subconsciously. He conducted an investigation immediately after the soldier's notification. A sea scorpion-level team—since the sea scorpion was involved, even if it was the black seal that was supposed to be crawling around in the dust at the bottom, it would not have any money. Difficult to speak of.
Ninety-nine percent of the black chapters above the snake level are wicked people who are well-dressed and look like dogs.
It's not that Gallagher has never seen a high-level black seal, and he has even come into contact with a spider level that is more dangerous than a sea scorpion level. Hearing such an insolent declaration, he thought he could meet a few madmen with amazing momentum.
It's a pity that apart from the blond-haired one and the former judge knight-chief who still look a bit like, the other two men are more like they were plucked from the country fair than dangerous rebels - the weapons are barely qualified, but they don't look like they are. Like some fancy stuff. The coat is full of damage and scratches, and there is almost no hostility in the eyes, but more nervousness.
The head of the regiment, Oliver Ramon, was surveying his surroundings cautiously, and Mr. Ramon and Gallagher shuddered almost at the same time when he found the soles of his muddy boots on the edge of the incense blanket.
And since the black-haired mage in the team entered the door, he began to concentrate on counting the small mud spots on his moccasin boots. He held a regular black staff in one, and a half-bald parrot in the other. The parrot kept mumbling something in a low voice, and Gallagher listened for a moment, forcibly resisting the urge to wash his ears because of the unusual string of swear words.
Ironically, in the group of relatively less well-dressed people, only the woman still has the feeling of a high-level black badge.
It's a pity that as soon as this thought crossed Gallaher's mind, the female warrior's sneeze combo began.
Gallagher's eyes moved from the mud on the soles of the tumbleweed crowd's shoes to the grass clippings on his clothes, and the whispered curses of parrots and the sound of Ann's nose blowing echoed in his ears - the famous Alban's "Wild Hound" almost died. You should get your back.
What are these things.
However, this woman's age and appearance characteristics are also correct, and she even looks quite similar to the late Annabelle.
A few camouflage illusions are more convincing, and this female Hei Zhang doesn't seem to be forced to come by someone, she must have made up her mind.
When Ann finally recovered from the series of sneezes, Gallagher said sullenly, "Ann Savage. I checked with you, the famous, loner female warrior... Now no joke, since You have guessed my purpose and are standing before me at this moment - say, Ms Savage, how much do you want?"
There was a very uncomfortable contempt in his tone, and Nemo, who was counting the mud, couldn't help but look up.
Ann obviously sensed the arrogance in the other's tone. She folded her arms half-smile and sniffed.
"I can give you enough money to keep anyone you care about for a lifetime. For a female black stamp, it's very cost-effective to sell your life at such a price."
"I'm not kidding." An Shen said.
"Want to experience a phantom power? Even if Delia Alastair was underage, I wouldn't let a filthy refugee touch the throne—even if it's just a puppet that's been put on hold." Gallagher's voice His contempt became more evident. "Make a price, Ms. Savage."
Ann shook his head amusingly, slowly untied the left shoulder armor, and neatly tore off the left sleeve. With the unpleasant sound of the cloth being torn, the female soldier's left arm was completely exposed from the shoulder.
Nemo suddenly understood why Ann was dressing up as a man at the ball.
Because she couldn't wear women's dresses.
Unlike the delicate and soft arms of noble women, the exposed arms have beautiful muscle lines, are strong and powerful, and are covered with scars.
Burns, claw marks, and signs of corrosion are extremely visible. These scars are not difficult to remove, but warriors are usually willing to keep them.
As a medal, as a wake-up call, or as a tombstone for a friend.
The most eye-catching is the huge scar on An's left upper arm, as if a complete piece of flesh was directly gouged out, and the method is not very neat.
Throwing away the torn sleeves, the female warrior ignored the thick fleece blanket exuding fragrance under her feet, stepped on it mercilessly, and strode to the edge of the long table in front of Marshal Gallagher.
Supporting the table with the left, An You took out an exquisite crystal bottle from his pocket, bit it open with his teeth carelessly, and poured the seemingly expensive potion onto his left shoulder.
The dust fell into the fleece blanket, and the shimmering liquid spilled a little on the table. Gallaher stared at the female black seal in front of him, and the whole person seemed to be close to the brink of eruption. The guards standing on the other side of the room sensed the marshal's displeasure, you look at me, I look at you, they are all hesitating whether to step forward and pull this daring woman away—
Then they solidified.
Also frozen was Marshal Gallagher.
Wherever the liquid medicine went, the skin slowly healed, and all kinds of ugly scars gradually disappeared. Raised scars flatten out, and sunken ones grow new flesh.
The particularly conspicuous and uneven huge scar slowly twisted, and a soft silver light faintly revealed from the flesh and blood. As the skin coalesced, a complex emblem gradually emerged from her shoulders.
"You're looking for a woman with chestnut hair and yellow eyes. You're going to let her pretend to be Andrea Alastair, who has been dead for many years - because she's unknown, it's easy to make a rule." Ann will be empty. put the bottle of medicine on the table and whispered casually.
"But it's a pity, Lord Marshal. Andrea Alastair is indeed still alive, and now she hopes to get back the 'property' that belongs to her."
The royal emblem shimmered on her shoulder, and the guards did not hesitate to kneel in a neat salute. Gallagher frowned, his face turned ugly.
"It's a beautiful trick," he said grimly, "but since His Majesty can give us the temporary disguised emblem, others can give it to you too. Princess?... A princess like you?"
He chuckled: "Many years ago, I saw Her Royal Highness Annabelle and Her Royal Highness Andrea. With all due respect, those two Highnesses were delicate and obedient, and Her Highness Andrea was young when she disappeared. She There's no way she's still alive—even if a miracle happens, she's not supposed to be like you."
"Yes, yes. I should be wearing a fluffy skirt, tightening my waist, and wiping my tears with a handkerchief, and crying to you about my misery over the years. Is that so? You have it all written on your face, Master Marshal."
"You don't have the slightest bit of royal femininity in you."
"You said it just now, 'weak and obedient'. If that's what you want in royal femininity, I'm afraid you'll only see my bones right now. Oh, I remember that."
Ann showed her teeth, and a disgusted smile slowly appeared on her face. Nemo subconsciously took two steps back—when the female warrior laughed like that, nothing good happened.
"I remember you too. I said how familiar this peculiar smell is. Put away your expression, I don't intend to make up a story based on the existing information. The birthday party held in the church twenty-one years ago, You're wearing an extra-pretentious wig, don't you? Well, I think... If I remember correctly, you should have been sixteen at the time."
"Not a make-up story, eh? Who would remember twenty-one years ago so clearly?"
"If that person was one of the factors that caused you to usher in a major life change, of course you will remember." Ann licked her lips, "Your father pointed to me and Annabelle and asked if you liked it? If you like it, ask Your Majesty for mercy and make an appointment. Be a fiancee."
"Oh, since you 'remember' it so clearly, let's talk about it, did I agree or reject it?"
"You didn't say anything." The female warrior held both hands on the table, "You just sneered softly and glanced at us as if you were looking at the decoration of the palace, without any intention of looking at 'another person' - I should thank you , Salter. You made me realize at the time that 'The palace is a totally unbearable place'."
"...Please let the forces behind you come out." After a while, Marshal Gallagher said with a stern face. "I will admit your identity for the time being, Your Highness. I have to say, the idea of disguising as a black seal is very clever. No matter who is behind you, he has taught you well."
He paused, and glanced suspiciously at the other four behind An.
"It seems that Ann Savage's so-called 'like to act alone' is to cover up the fact that it is not you who is carrying out the mission. I should have known that the temperament of these tumbleweeds is not like a black badge, but a companion Protect your subordinates, right?… This tactic works well, Your Highness. But the farce must end, and it's time for me to talk to the real representatives."
The attitude of Marshal Gallagher is very obvious. As a veteran black stamp who has been in the business for many years, Ann is very confident in his own eyesight.
This hypocritical bastard recognized that she could not have her own brain, and that she was negotiating with him according to the script that she did not know. I'm looking for the so-called behind-the-scenes force, and I plan to negotiate.
Even if he reluctantly recognized his status as a princess for a while, "Wild Hound" did not mean to let the soldiers step back and talk about business. Although well-spoken, the marshal clearly did not intend to take the "Princess of Alban" seriously. Looking at it this way, it's not so surprising that Gallagher Salt didn't send someone to contact Delia.
The smile on Ann's face got bigger and bigger, and she slowly raised her right—
Then he gave Gallagher a very standard comparison.
"Fuck you, Salter. I'm the representative."
Marshal Gallagher seemed to be stunned by the female warrior's skilled gestures and swear words, he narrowed his eyes, and his face flushed with anger: "His Royal Highness, please pay attention to your identity, don't say such... indecent words. "
Although the Marshal's voice was a little more serious this time, there was still a bit of condescension in his tone.
"… bad luck for the marshal," Oliver whispered to Nemo. "Well, this feeling… Ann is really pissed."
"Yes." Nemo took another half step back and dragged Oliver back together. "Be careful."
"Not only did I say it with my mouth, I'm going to beat you." An said word by word, and the other one also pointed. "I hate the way you talk to me, Salter. Since you don't understand human speech, there's a better way to explain—"
Marshal Gallagher looked at the two fingers in front of him, his face even redder with anger. He took a deep breath very cultivated: "Please tell me, since you must be emotional."
"Have a fight with me, Master Marshal. One-on-one, weapons of your choice." Ann squeezed these words out of his teeth.
"I don't hit women, Your Highness."
"I didn't bully the mentally handicapped before, but this time I decided to make an exception."
"Don't deceive people too much...!"
"Don't talk nonsense, fight or not fight?"
"If this is your order, I hope you won't be willful then—"
"Oh, don't worry, I won't kill you." The female warrior snapped on her leather armor and drew a spear from her back. "When will it start? Let's do it now."
Gallaher looked at the female warrior across the table with a cold face, and stood up slowly.
She smiled sarcastically: "Oh yes... 'I forgive you for offending the Alastair family', you were waiting for that, weren't you?"
Jesse whistled, and Nemo slapped her mouth halfway through the whistle. The soldiers began to stir, and Gallagher held out one to signal the guards to quiet down.
"It will be over soon anyway," he said, "Your Highness is just on a whim... You need to promise me, Your Highness. If I win, tell the truth about the forces behind you, and be your princess, war. It's not something a woman can do."
"Yeah, it'll be over soon anyway." An's face still had a hair-raising smile on her face, "You have to promise me too, Mr. Wild Dog. If I win..."
"Wild...?! Cough, please speak."
"If I win, please pour the water out of your head, okay?"