"Your Excellency, I saw flashes of light, it must be the muzzle flashes!" The child's voice from behind took Malin by surprise, and he turned his head with some difficulty, only to see Cain, the boy, holding a pot lid over his head. Noticing Malin's gaze, the little rascal broke into a grin, and at the same time, a censored bar-like object fell out of his nose.
He was so much like Malin himself in his younger years.
"The little bugger," Malin took out a handkerchief to wipe the boy's nose. "Where did you see the flashes?"
"On our way here, there was a three-story building ruin by the roadside. The light was at the top, near the edge of a window," Cain said, looking at Malin apologetically, "I'm sorry, Your Excellency, for dirtying your handkerchief."
"It's nothing." Malin tucked the handkerchief away, unconcerned with how dirty the kid might be.
