"This is clearly a trap."
"Nightingale" raised an eyebrow, showing his disdain for the Empire.
"Even a blind man could smell the strong scent of conspiracy."
"Yes, it's a trap, it's a conspiracy."
Roland's exclamation seemed hollow; it did not sound like he was agreeing. After a moment of silence, allowing the echo of his words to evaporate, he turned his face towards the middle-aged man beside him and posed a seemingly pointless question:
"Comrade 'Cuckoo', what do you think?"
The named "Cuckoo" felt somewhat puzzled; was that even a question?
Obviously, it was not.
Without any hesitation, he gave his answer.
"I agree with Comrade 'Nightingale's' view, this is obviously a trap."
A crude, clumsy, utterly ridiculous piece of rubbish, not even worthy of being called a trap. Anyone with an intelligence above average could see through it and easily circumvent it, while still being able to offer fancy ridicule to the originator.
