His bloodshot eyes stared intently at Colonel Rossi, the Italian commander who had just rushed over upon hearing the news, almost spitting in his face.
"My soldiers! My boys! Were shot dead from behind by your bastards! All for a few pieces of damn gold! Are you soldiers or bandits?!"
Colonel Rossi's face was ashen, his meticulously planned "moment of glory" utterly ruined. Facing Deville's roar, he retorted without backing down, his Italian filled with volcanic heat: "Fuck you!! Bandits? Merda! (Shit!) Open your eyes and look, Deville! Whose men first moved to plunder?! Whose men shoved my officer?! You French mercenaries, smell money and forget discipline! You were the first to make a move! Your men pounced on treasure that didn't belong to you like hyenas, causing this disaster! My soldiers acted in self-defense!"
He pointed at the Italian soldier on the ground with his skull cap peeled off, "Look! This is your French handiwork!"
