Drawing Cards in the Middle Ages to Rise in Ranks-Chapter 563 - 338: Centurion

"Losa, the newly appointed Centurion by the young lady herself?"

The man blocking the road asked arrogantly.

"Yes, that’s me."

The man looked Losa up and down, thinking this pretty boy seemed quite effeminate, his aura didn’t suggest he was any impressive figure, and he couldn’t help but snicker.

He thought to himself that perhaps Miss Valentina appreciated this very trait, which was why she promoted such an obscure Corner from the fringe?

"The boss wants you to come over."

Losa frowned and asked, "About what?"

"Last night, you operated Turin’s intelligence network without permission, right?"

He was referring to Losa using the intelligence network last night to find Elmer, which was hardly a big deal; after all, Elmer lived in a family estate, just a quick phone call sorted it out, hardly needing to tap into the intelligence network.

"I was just looking for someone, and I need your boss’s permission for that?"

"Of course, although you’ve been promoted to Centurion, the young lady hasn’t given you any specific duties." The man sneered, saying, "Follow me."

Losa frowned and said, "Aren’t you forgetting something?" 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"What?"

"To salute me."

Losa said quietly.

"You..."

The man sneered, about to make a sarcastic remark, but for some reason, a sense of dread crept up from his heart, as if a Demon Dragon lurking in an Abyss was staring at him with golden eyes from behind.

He swallowed his saliva, sweating buckets.

Losa staring straight at him, in a daze, seemed to merge with the imagined Demon Dragon.

He quickly removed his hat, clutched it in his hand, and humbly bowed his head: "Cen...Centurion, please follow me."

Losa chuckled softly, and the previously cold and tense atmosphere instantly melted away.

"That’s right, I don’t fancy impolite people. No need to lead the way; I know where Turin’s main base is. Tell your boss to wait quietly; I’ll be there shortly."

"Yes, sir."

Watching Losa leave, the man felt like he had just been pulled out of a tub, his face filled with relief from a narrow escape.

"This guy... is he the young lady’s hidden secret weapon? Truly terrifying!"

"No, I have to warn the boss, this guy isn’t just a pretty face."

The man hurriedly left.

...

When Losa arrived at Hawthorn Manor, the Saluzzo representative stationed in Turin was conversing with a well-dressed gentleman. He smoked a brown pipe, its top resembling an inverted pine cone, wore a bowler hat, and had elegant manners; he merely glanced at Losa upon his arrival before withdrawing his gaze.

The gentleman glanced at Losa and asked with a smile, "You have a guest?"

The representative smiled and said, "Mr. Congressman, please continue our conversation."

Losa nodded indifferently, saying to himself, "Seems I’ve come at a bad time. Since you’re busy, I won’t disturb you. I happen to be tracing the attacker, so I’ll visit when I’m free."

He thought that after being warned by his underlings, the narrow-minded representative would be a bit smarter and not view him as a competitor.

He’s merely a passerby, won’t stay long in the Saluzzo Family, nor has any ambition to seize power or climb the ranks, no conflict at all, but now thinking back, the other party probably doesn’t realize this.

The Centurion’s expression stiffened slightly, yet he had no choice but to nod indifferently.

Family scandals should not be aired in public, an unwritten rule among the Apennines’ Wolf Race; he definitely wouldn’t leave the guest he’s meeting to spar with Losa.

"We will provide you with ample support, Mr. Congressman."

The Congressman bowed humbly with a smile and said, "Thank you very much, Mr. Lamduo."

"No need for such courtesy, we are among ourselves."

Having bid farewell to the Congressman, Centurion Lamduo’s face darkened immediately: "Tell that Losa to get back here. Does he really think he’s extraordinary just because the young lady values him? This is Turin, not Saluzzo!"

His underling said quietly, "Boss, I told you, this guy is not to be trifled with; his aura is truly daunting. If you confront him head-on..."

Lamduo’s face stiffened even more.

He hesitated for a moment, eventually not forcing his underling to chase Losa.

He’s indeed worried that this reckless person might start a fight with him in public, which would tarnish his reputation regardless of who wins or loses, making it hard to maintain his position.

Being the main representative for a city is a lucrative position.

For example, the Congressman earlier was a puppet pushed to the forefront by him, setting up multiple textile and glass manufacturing plants in Turin, mutually beneficial, earning him an annual return of tens of thousands of Golden Louis.

...

In the prison.

The judge, wearing golden wire-rim glasses, asked the jailer, "The female prisoner I brought back yesterday, no issues, right?"

"No, ma’am, everything is as usual."

The jailer, extremely burly, leading one to suspect he might have giant blood, humbly bowed his head: "Please come in."

"You’re here."

The female gunman in custody looked at her relaxedly.

"Did you sleep well last night?"

"Mm, indeed quite well."

The judge’s face bore a stern expression: "I thought those behind you would seize the chance last night to silence you when no one was paying attention."

"You’re joking, there’s no one behind me." The female gunman glanced at her back, feigning puzzlement in her reply.

"Do you know how many will die if you provoke an internal battle between the two families?"

The female gunman’s mouth curved slightly, remaining silent.

The jailer beside her said coldly, "Miss Lavinia, questioning like this won’t produce any effect. To deal with such uncooperative hardliners, you should use torture. If you follow the procedure, I guarantee she’ll confess to everything."

Lavinia shook her head: "I have my own methods—leave us, Jeston, I want to talk to her alone."

"Alright, Miss Lavinia, if anything happens, call me anytime."

The jailer bent down and exited through the narrow corridor.

As the footsteps faded, Lavinia spoke again: "You know, last year, a family member shot dead a textile factory owner in the street for not paying protection fees. Later, they sent a street thug from the slums to take the blame."

The female gunman remained silent.

She knew she wasn’t that smart; following the other’s train of thought might easily trick her into revealing vital information.

"Later, he countered in court—people said he had a crisis of conscience, but it actually wasn’t what happened."

A flicker of fear flashed in the female gunman’s eyes; she was actually terrified of torture, extremely so, not being a professional killer, even going to assassinate two ordinary Corners, never imagining she might fail.

Lavinia spoke softly: "I used some small tricks, and for this matter, I’ve always felt guilty. I often ask myself, for greater good, is it worthwhile even if the process isn’t so just?"