Wang Zhong was pondering about the future when Ludmila tugged at his sleeve.
He turned his head to look at the girl, and she pouted in the direction she was looking at.
Following her gaze with curiosity, Wang Zhong then saw a short and chubby version of himself.
Overall, Aleksei Konstantinovich Rokossovsky wasn’t bad looking, mainly because he kept his body well-trained.
But the man in front of him was actually about the same height; however, due to his significantly expanded tonnage and a serious failure in managing his weight, he had a chubby appearance.
Described with high emotional intelligence,”strong and honest.”
But even with such a big difference in build, Wang Zhong still had the feeling, “My god, he looks so much like me.”
So, even without looking at the name, Wang Zhong knew this person must be a relative of his.
He glanced at the name: Pyotr Konstantinovich Rocossov, Major General, Duke Rocossov.
Based on the patronymic Konstantinovich, Wang Zhong deduced that this man shared the same father with him. It’s a tradition among the Ante Empire nobility that the first in line of succession, even without actually inheriting any land, would still be granted an honorary title.
Meaning, this could be his brother, the first in line to inherit, so he is also called the Duke—though without actual inheritance.
Pyotr looked at Wang Zhong, quickened his steps, and came over with open arms, “My dear brother! Alyosha!”
Wang Zhong was hugged tightly and nearly had his chest crushed.
Are you trying to murder your brother, fatty!
After releasing Wang Zhong, Pyotr was still very excited, his mouth trembling as he spoke—not that Wang Zhong was paying close attention, it’s just that being fat, any slight tremor was magnified through the layers of fat, immediately obvious.
Pyotr, “When the choir received the dangerous news about you being in Peniye, I rushed to use all possible means to suggest to the subordinates to send you reinforcements. I didn’t know what they’d sent until I received the news that you had arrived at Bogdanovka, then my heart was finally at ease…”
…Hm? Tank number 67 KV1 was what you sent?
But why does it seem from Pyotr’s statements that he doesn’t have the authority to give direct orders to the troops below? And as a major general in Argesukov, how could he issue orders to the troops in Bogdanovka? He shouldn’t have jurisdiction there, right?
Just as Wang Zhong’s suspicion arose, it was immediately resolved: Because Pyotr was too fat earlier, Wang Zhong could only notice his front and overlooked the staff officer insignia on his shoulder.
This guy, though wearing the rank of major general, is probably a senior staff officer in the Front Army staff.
With some maneuvering within the command office, it is indeed possible to give some hints to have the troops dispatched.
No wonder only one KV1 came to the support; turns out the defenders of Bogdanovka had only casually sent some reinforcements to satisfy the superiors.
Everything started making sense.
Pyotr took Wang Zhong’s hand, “It’s good you’re back! Father and I just want you to be safe, you really don’t need to boast so much!”
…Hm?
Pyotr, “I’ve already managed to make arrangements with the personnel department, and they will soon transfer you to the logistics department!”
Wang Zhong frowned, looking incredulously at the chubby man in front of him who resembled him, “What happened to the Western nobility protecting their people? You relocate your own kin to the rear during a national crisis, and you nonchalantly announce it in public?”
What would the sons of the commoners who gallantly died for their country think?
The feeling of alienation he just experienced came flooding back.
Wang Zhong remembered the valiant members of the Guardian Army who died in the defense of Loktov, along with the active men, women, and children.
Had the call to action that motivated everyone back then nothing to do with the nobility but was down to a belief in national survival?
Wang Zhong’s fondness for the citizens of Ante increased by 1,000 points.
He shook off Pyotr’s hand, “I won’t leave my troops. I will fight until Prosen is completely defeated, turning Ploseni into ruins, washing my tracks with the blood of the Plathen Emperor, and then eating pickles on his dining table.”
The dandies around obviously misunderstood Wang Zhong’s words, taking him for the typical braggart and whistled in response.
But Pyotr looked at Wang Zhong with incredulity, staring intensely, “You… what’s happened to you? No, no, for the sake of the front-line troops, you should go to the logistics department, and to manage something inconsequential, like storerooms for pickles… Oh, is that where you want to go? That can be arranged!”
Wang Zhong, “No, I will say it again, I will not leave the front line, I will not forsake the soldiers who have fought and bled with me! I will fight with them until the end when Prosen is finally defeated!”
Pyotr laughed, “Don’t be like that, look at your soldiers, they must be sick of you! Uh…”
Pyotr’s gaze swept over the soldiers of the Rocossov combat group standing in formation on the platform, his expression as if he’d seen a ghost.
At that moment, Ludmila said, “Pyotr Konstantinovich, he is no longer who he was yesterday.”
Pyotr took another look at his brother, seemingly finally sensing a vastly different aura about his kin, until he saw Bucephalus nibbling at Wang Zhong’s hair.
Bucephalus, “Neigh~~~”
Wang Zhong silently pushed the horse’s head away.
Pyotr:…
Then Pyotr decided to ignore the overly abrupt scene. He cleared his throat, “So… you’re not going to tell me that you actually commanded the troops in battle and gained their approval, are you?”
Wang Zhong, “What do you think? My dear brother!”