Chapter 103 Tired
After passing through the hellish street, with the help of Andrew and Brice, we finally arrived at a place that was like a square. The original stalls were gone and there was no one there. There was only a newly built tent and a bonfire that had not yet been lit, with a big black pot on it.
"Okay, just like back in Ludinan!"
Although everyone was hungry, Andrew still laughed optimistically. I was supported by them and sat in the tent closest to the campfire. The soldiers, who looked tired and had dirty clothes covered with blood, were busy, some started the fire and some started preparing vegetables. The food in the barracks was really simple. I thought that someone like me who couldn't even cut vegetables could be a skilled cook.
The soldiers borrowed fire from a nearby camp. They drew out their iron swords, wiped the blood stains off them, and casually roasted them over the newly lit bonfire, which was considered disinfection.
Next, they made a very traditional oatmeal porridge called Miles, which gave people the feeling that everything was added to it and could be traced back to the Republic era. The chef in charge of cooking came late, but it did not affect his performance. He looked at the boiling water in the iron pot, poured a bag of oatmeal and chickpeas into it, and took out a cabbage with the iron sword that had just been disinfected, cut it into pieces and threw it into the pot. Of course, how could such an excellent chef make the food in the pot look so monotonous? He also added onions, greens, and a lot of coarse salt.
As for the spices, they were only for the upper class, and soldiers like us were not qualified to eat them. Salt, salt was enough.
How could a hungry soldier just wait there? He used the fire to roast some green onions. This way of eating seemed okay to me.
Andrew handed me a piece of roasted scallion. Looking at the burnt scallion, I sniffed it and found that it didn't have any disgusting smell. I tried to eat a bite. The main thing was that it didn't have the crispness of the original scallion, but the rest was really good. I must have been too hungry.
This was really a delicious meal. Because of the sharp decline in population caused by the war, the original one bowl of soup was only available to them, but now they could drink two bowls. Looking at the "beggars" sitting on the ground in groups of three or four, feasting on their food, I didn't know whether I was happy that they were full or sighed that they bled in the battle.
"This time, half of our two hundred-man teams were killed. There were no injured. The injured were abandoned by us." Andrew sat next to me. His tone was very heavy, as if he was full of shame and guilt for the victims.
"Don't blame yourself, Andrew." I endured the pain and still tried to comfort him and cheer him up.
"This is war. If the decision-making of the top leaders is slightly wrong, we, the soldiers at the bottom, will pay the price of unnecessary blood." I said this, indirectly transferring all the responsibility and hatred to the chief centurion Guy, whose whereabouts are still unknown. In my opinion, this bastard deserves to die, as does his damned redresser Anthony. I don't know why, I always offend them inadvertently, and they also try their best to kill me.
The dinner was over, and the pain made me not feel tired at all. At my insistence, Andrew supported me and slowly walked to the street. He put me in the corner and let me lean on the wall for support. Then he found two chairs from somewhere, one for me and one for him. Now, we could sit on the side of the road and look at the magnificent scenery. For the first time ever, we had a long chat together.
"Just like that?" I looked at the phalanxes of soldiers passing by. They were marching in from outside the city. I spread my hands, smiled at Andrew, and said, "Just so casually, the Burgundians, like a cancer, were eradicated?"
"That's not the case, Luke!"
Andrew's face showed an expression of exhaustion that was difficult to conceal. He almost collapsed in his chair. He continued weakly, "We suffered huge casualties in this battle. I heard that the Eighth Comrades Corps lost one-third of its members, not to mention the other auxiliary mercenaries who were at the forefront."
"That's not enough?" I was a little puzzled, and then asked, "We have suffered so many casualties that Anthony, who was smiling at us before, has changed his face and wants to cut us into pieces. Why? Have the Burgundians not perished yet?"
"I think this is as it should be, Luca." Andrew looked at me and continued, "According to the scout who delivered the order: before we attacked the city, the scout discovered that a large number of Burgundian troops and many civilians left from the north gate. They must have wanted to cross the Rhine River and escape our border."
"It's better this way. At least I won't be able to come back for a while after I run away." I breathed a sigh of relief. My tense nerves over the past few months can finally relax.
"No, our marshal doesn't intend to end it like this!"
Andrew's words were undoubtedly a bucket of cold water, which completely chilled my little comfort.
"What?"
My scream not only startled many people, but also caused a sharp pain in my chest. All the wounds that affect my appearance are caused by the war. For the little military pay that can barely make a living, we are either fighting or on the way to fight. We are thrown into the war for no reason, incited to hate another person we have never met, and try every means to kill them.
"Andrew, where did you get this information?"
"Oh, when you were unconscious, every centurion knew about it!"
"Well, it looks like I missed a lot!"
I tried to stretch my limbs and kept my eyes on the troops passing by me.
"Kill until you are killed. This may be our destiny."
I weakly stroked the hilt of my cavalry sword. After more than three months of maintenance, I learned how to keep it sharp. For me, a weapon without rust and sharp enough to kill is a good weapon. But now I am indescribably tired of war. I would rather go back to work for others and endure an ordinary life under the sun and wind than risk my life here. Maybe I am afraid of death, or I have retreated.
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"What's wrong, Luca? Are you scared?" Andrew looked at me with a half-smile on his face, only the corners of his mouth were raised, and he stared at me intently.
"Aren't you afraid?" I asked back.
"Afraid?" He looked up at the sky, his eyes as deep as the blue sky. He murmured, "I am afraid all the time. I am also extremely tired of war."
"Maybe we really don't know what we are fighting for! That's why these commanders who don't know how to cherish our lives are wasting our only life."
"Huh? Luka? Can't we go to heaven?"
"Well, Andrew, no matter how beautiful heaven is, it can't compare to our hometown!"
I was still weeding the yard at around nine o'clock today. I really don't have any extra time. Please forgive me.
(End of this chapter)