Captain Garcia is a 63-year-old man. His hair and beard are all gray, but they are still neatly tidied up. On the morning of July 31, he was still standing in front of the mirror as usual, shaving with a knife.

beard on.

When he picked up the knife, his hand was still shaking, just like every elderly person. But when the blade of the knife touched his cheek, the old hand with sagging skin and bulging blood vessels was miraculously stable.

Come down.

As steady as if he first picked up a gun half a century ago.

After shaving his face, he picked up a wet towel and wiped it. When he turned around to wash the towel, he glanced out the window. The night sky had just faded and was very blue.

He found toilet paper from the cabinet, opened the door, and walked towards the toilet in the corner of the yard.

As soon as he went out, the wind blew on his face, which immediately made the wrinkles on his face deeper and more numerous.

The Patagonian wilderness in winter is still so dry and cold.

The toilet is a small wooden house with a rusty iron roof. As long as you open the door, you can smell the fishy smell that has accumulated over the years. Even if you clean it regularly, you can't get rid of it.

Captain Garcia held his breath, squatted on the toilet pit, and exerted all his strength...

After more than ten minutes, his face turned red, he held the door and finally managed to get out one step at a time.

Since the food supply of the Magic Association was cut off fifteen years ago, Captain Garcia and his wife's daily staple food has changed from bread and rice to dry scones and boiled beans, causing his aging digestive tract to become older year by year.

uncomfortable.

The water flushed from the toilet pit flowed along the sewer to the methane tank at the end of the town. He could hear the sound clearly. Although his hands and feet were shaking more and more, his eyes could not see clearly what was a little further away.

, but his ears are still as sensitive as when he was young.

His wife, who is over sixty years old like him, is currently busy in the kitchen.

Captain Garcia wandered around the yard several times, and estimated that the stench from his body had almost dissipated. Then he returned to the house and saw his wife putting plates on the table.

There are still scones and beans on the plate, as well as a little pickle about the size of a thumb.

The old captain sat down at the dining table, picked up his spoon and started eating.

His wife sat across from him and couldn't help but complain after taking two bites: "The bacon is gone again, didn't you notice?"

The old captain held a spoon in his right hand, fumbled with his left hand and took out a weekly newspaper from his pocket, spread it out on the table, and continued to eat and read.

The wife added: "We need money. The pension they give you is not enough at all, unless you let them exchange the iron coins for silver coins. Otherwise, we will be hungry again in a few days."

The old captain didn't even raise his head: "Ceske also left a few books."

"No one wants those old books, they can't be sold!"

"Then Cesk and..."

The wife squeezed the spoon in her hand tightly: "There is nothing else. Do you want to dig up your son's coffin and steal the few little things that were buried with him?"

The old captain ate a spoonful of beans and muttered: "What's his belongs to me."

"Then you can't touch his coffin!"

"No one wants to touch his coffin, I just say, he is my son!"

The old captain only yelled, then lowered his head and continued to use the spoon.

The gray-haired couple didn't speak anymore, but just finished their breakfast in silence. The portion was small, but they ate more slowly.

The old captain put down his spoon, stood in front of the half-remaining mirror, and fastened his tie meticulously. Then came his pants, and his boots. He bent down with great effort and wiped the badge mark on the boots - they were from the Fifth Field Brigade.

The status symbol of a captain officer.

The wife suddenly asked: "What are you going to do?"

The old captain curled his dry lips: "Today is the last day of July."

The wife understood immediately. Because on the day Captain Garcia retired, his superiors told him that if there was a new mission, a telegram would be sent to summon him on the last day of every month.

"Don't go, there won't be a telegram."

"The fall of Buenos Aires is the time when soldiers are needed."

"Then they won't look for you. You are about to lie down in the coffin to accompany Cesc, how can they look for you?"

"I'm not old enough to handle a gun."

"I'm afraid that gun is older than you. I asked someone the day before yesterday and no Gauchos want it."

"Who told you to touch my gun!" The old captain suddenly became anxious.

He quickly ran back to the bedroom, opened the closet, opened the hidden compartment on the lower floor, and breathed a sigh of relief after feeling for the familiar hard outline.

The wife sighed: "I can't even sell it."

The old captain stuffed his feet into his boots and struggled for a long time before finally zipping them up. Then he stood up and walked to the door. Every step he took seemed to bring back the vitality of his youth.

The wife suddenly said: "You should talk to the mayor. He was protected by you when he was a child. The entire town was protected by you and your comrades."

Captain Garcia raised his chin: "I will find him."

————

Captain Garcia was stopped at the door of the mayor's office building. The security guards said that the mayor was not here and had something to do.

Twelve years ago, after the Mage Association's office in Bonfire Town was evacuated, he rarely stepped into this three-story building again. The security guards at the door had changed several times, and now these few did not recognize him.

.These security guards are decades younger than him, how could they be familiar with those battles back then?

The old captain walked around the office building several times, attracting the looks of many passers-by. Those looks seemed to be just indifferent onlookers, but the old captain always felt uncomfortable, as if others were making fun of him.

So he walked into the nearby telegraph office.

The telegraph office was a one-story bungalow with only one clerk inside all year round. Seeing the old captain walking in, the clerk shook his head silently.

Captain Garcia clasped his hands behind his back, trying to show off as an officer - you know, in the association's army, the highest military rank that a soldier without a magician can achieve is captain. Unfortunately, now, the old captain's back

It's a little bit straight.

The clerk stared at him coldly and suddenly said: "No, there is no telegram for you."

Captain Garcia was stunned for a few seconds, nodded silently, and continued walking with his hands behind his back. The counter in the telegraph office was filled with many newspapers that had arrived in recent days.

The news of the fall of Buenos Aires was of course at the top of the list.

The old captain paced back and forth.

The clerk couldn't help but said: "How about you go home and rest? I haven't sent you a telegram for many years, why are you wasting time here?"

"I have plenty of time..." the old captain muttered quietly, but did not continue walking inside.

He walked out of the telegraph office and walked slowly towards his home. His steps were very slow, and the closer he got to home, the more his back became bent.

It was time to do farm work and take care of the bean fields when he got back. But he wanted to wear these boots for a while longer.

After going around for an unknown number of times, it took about an hour before he returned to the door of his home, which was only a few hundred meters away. At this time, he heard a burst of hurried footsteps.

The wife ran out from inside.

What made him a little strange was that his wife was not wearing an apron at this time. The old apron had turned yellow, stained and washed countless times, but could not turn back to white. His wife had been wearing it all these years.

Wear it from morning to night.

"Garcia, someone is coming!"

Besides the pickle seller, the bacon seller and the flour seller, who else would come to his house?

Just when the old captain was wondering, another person walked out of the door.

Only when he got closer did he see clearly that he was a handsome young man with black hair and an appearance from the Far East. The camouflage uniform and military boots on the young man's body made him feel inexplicably familiar.

The young man raised his hand and gave a military salute: "Hello, I am the Special Operations Specialist of the Mage Association, Mage Li Yu."

Captain Garcia suddenly felt that everything in front of him was blurry. Although it was inevitable that he was a little bent, the old captain still tried to straighten his back and raise his chin.

"Fifth Field Group, 493 Squadron, Vice Captain Garcia."

After speaking, Captain Garcia solemnly saluted the military salute.
Chapter completed!