The Empire of Reimia (3)

Latro rubbed his hands together gleefully. These silly girls, used to splashing in the water, laughing, and bathing in a tub with an inflatable ring, decided to get a beating on the front lines and were routed in ten minutes, losing half their squad. Every shot from the Ifrit sounded like a pleasant symphony in his ears: the click of the bolt, the gentle pat on the projectile's rear, the sound of poorly lubricated hinges guiding the cannon, the deafening hiss and explosion of gases accompanying the launch of the projectile, the loud whistle as it flew into the sky and then descended to the ground, the loud and sweet thumping of his own heart in anticipation of the most reliable indicator of a hit – the thunderous rumble of the charge hitting the ground and the piercing shriek of the girls. Each such cry was accompanied by a satisfied smile and a wave of the hand from the artilleryman. It was a pity that he didn't get to get closer in this battle to blast their defenseless, pampered bodies directly from his mighty barrel, but it was even better this way. Surrendering to the mercy of the victor – what a disgrace, they would have done the same in a real war. And yet, before surrendering, they managed to retaliate and inflict some random damage on Bert and Neyu, who were on the front lines. Having offered and provided all possible assistance to his friends, Latro approached Parfinore with a smile: "Ahaha, well played, prez, as always. Look how passively-aggressively angry this bitch is! I bet she'll be convincing herself and others that they didn't really want to win, but how pathetic that will look! Let them cluck, losers. Well, another brilliant operation in our collection, eh? You know, I subjectively feel like the most motivated person for victory out of everyone in our squad, so I'm damn glad that your strategies are so effective. I hope we tear them all to shreds." He raised his revolver in the air and shouted loudly: "Class three!" And fired three blank shots from the Goro.