Even as a pretender king, he knew one thing.
At the Saint Danji Military Academy, he once copied a line of aphorism from Horn's lecture: "You fight for whom you derive your strength."
"Gloev," Alexei's voice was deep, "you keep an eye on the pontoon, quicken the pace, let the kids go first."
"Your Highness you..."
"I'm going to steady the soldiers." Drawing the sword from his waist, Alexei turned his head, "I want to stand with my people."
Gloev wanted to say something but saw that Alexei was already riding down the hill on his horse.
He reached out his hand, his fingertips just brushing the corner of Alexei's cloak: "Hey? Hey! Alas..."
The young lord with a knife rushed to the confused soldiers, his cloak unfurled in the wind like a billowing banner.
The banner swept over the army, and suddenly it calmed the disputes, the noisy sound gradually diminished.
"Bastards, what are you making a fuss about?" Alexei's voice was not loud, but it overpowered the soldiers' commotion.
