Guapo From Ferdinand Romane & Geschichten

It vaulted over the villa walls and landed before Fane and Lana. “Brother!” Lana stared at the man before her. It was Fernando, no doubt about it. Fane looked into his empty eyes. “Your comrade has been brainwashed,” he said. “It seems like he’s become a puppet!” “No way. Does that mean he’s dead?” After Lana heard that, her features crumpled. Sorrow filled her heart. Fernando was a very powerful fighter—one of the best even among the Nine Gods of War. It would be frightening to think that someone like him could be controlled like a puppet.

Her hands were clasped together in her lap, fingers twitching every so often as if she were struggling with some inner turmoil. She raised a hand, a finger brushing through Ayra's hair but not touching her scalp. She stopped suddenly, retracting her finger, and stared at Ayra’s sleeping form with an expression Ayra coul Ferdinand leaned on the balcony, staring out at the setting sun, a lit cigar between his fingers. The door behind him opened and his sister stepped through. She observed him for a while before coming to rest her elbows on the railing too. Ferdinand offered her a cigar pack and she picked out a stick.

“I see. You bear some resemblance to a guy named Figo Larson. He must be related to you,” Philip said calmly. Fernand's expression slowly became distorted, annoyed that Philip would mention that loser. “Shut up!” Fernand scowled. Figo was nothing but a useless loser who only knew how to cause trouble for him. Fernand had been trained in various areas since he was a child and rose rapidly along the way. He finally entered Imperial City and became an official.

They messed up. Ferdinand’s eyes grew as wide as saucers when he saw what laid beyond the intertwined vines and branches. “This is goodbye.” Angie smirked while watching Ferdinand hang in the air for that short while. “Enjoy your living hell.” “You!” Ferdinand disappeared back down before he could get anything more out. “He got out!” A soldier yelled. “Catch him!” The soldiers below jumped into action. Two of them put their hands together for another to jump off their hands. The one launched upwards caught Ferdinand and they both tumbled heavily onto the ground. Their bodies were badly bruised but it was still better than broken bones and a lost life.

Ferdinand started when she raised her eyes to him. Before adding water from the fountain, he collected a clean bowl and said a prayer. He approached Isabel and handed her a water to sip. The water tasted exactly the same as it did when she first drank it. She handed the bowl to Ferdinand and he gave her a small knife. She knew what he wanted from her. With a quick flick of the knife, she sliced open her palm and poured the blood into the bowl.

The figure whips around, and he sees the door burst open, a smile crept up his lips. “Ma'am…" He called out as the silhouette approached them. “Keep the knife, Gerald.” Ferdinand thought he heard wrong because that voice seemed familiar, and he couldn't even miss it, not in his dreams. He slowly brought his head up to the source of the voice, his face clouded with shock and surprise. “Ciara…?”

Ferdinand pretended to be annoyed for a moment, then naturally took the juice from her hands, his expression softening. "It's nothing. These are things he should be doing. You go sit down and rest." Before Cecilia could react, Ferdinand had already pushed open the inner glass door for her, reminding her attentively, "Watch your step." She watched his back as he walked inside with the juice, momentarily dazed. The Ferdinand people talked about--the decisive, stern general--seemed rather different from this considerate, talkative elder standing before her. Cecilia lifted a hand and lightly pressed her temple, letting out a small laugh.

Apologetic and directed to the lycan rulers, Ferdinand eked out a smile and said, “Your Majesties, there appears to be a misunderstanding. I’m quite sure what my lovely wife meant was… it’s wonderful to see our species interacting. In harmony.” “What a lovely set of words from your lovely wife,” Lucy replied sardonically, not even needing the microphone to be heard, to make the minister and his wife cower before her from a distance. Ferdinand chuckled awkwardly. Lonelily. After clearing his throat twice while trying not to crumble under the queen’s glare and the king’s scowl, the old man swallowed a lump in his throat and uttered, “On behalf of my wife, I apologize, Your Majesties.” Turning