Maverick, both surprised and a bit amused seeing the lieutenant reaction, leaned forward, trying to comfort him. "It's all right, Lieutenant. Prince Julius doesn't mind things like that. He's not as formal as you might think."
Just as Maverick was trying to console the lieutenant, a loud voice erupted from outside the tent, cutting through the air like a storm.
"What do you mean I didn't win? I clearly won the race!" Julius' voice boomed, full of frustration.
Wolfgang's deeper voice followed, though much calmer, ignoring Julius' complaints. "Brother, you have to be sportive."
Their noisy banter filled the tent as the two burst in, both flushed from their run, and still in the middle of their argument.
Julius immediately caught sight of the lieutenant's dejected posture and Maverick's attempt to cheer him up. His eyes narrowed, and with a sharp glare, he demanded, "Who the hell are you?"
