The storm is coming
The group walked out of the tent in silence, each of their faces filled with worry.
They all knew that this three-day leave was not a real break but merely a brief calm before the storm.
It was clear that these young scouts were not mentally prepared.
Seeing the tense atmosphere, Bush spoke up to his comrades.
"How about we head to the logistics office to get our wages and allowance first?"
Bush was trying to lighten the mood.
He was good at reading people, and his sharp tongue often made others laugh, though sometimes he could speak so sharply that it would leave someone upset or even in tears.
His comrades called him "Viper" because his words could sting like a snake's bite.
"That sounds good. Besides, we need to prepare for the upcoming battle.
Being able to advance three months' salary isn't a trivial matter; clearly, the higher-ups realize the risk involved in this fight," Gorman replied.
Gorman's face was naturally a little red, and he wasn't very good with words.
He often got flustered when teased, and Bush would frequently poke fun at him, saying he was getting anxious, though Gorman always denied it.
With no better plan, they decided to follow Gorman's suggestion, go collect their pay, and then head to the town to spend it.
The ten of them quickly made their way through the crowd toward the logistics office.
The logistics office was located on the other side of the squad leader's tent, a simple, large tent.
The air outside the tent was thick with dust and the smell of sweat.
A long line had already formed at the entrance.
Clearly, many soldiers had received the news and decided to take advantage of the break to collect their pay as soon as possible.
It seemed everyone had the same idea.
They moved to the end of the line and waited for their turn.
The line was filled with many unfamiliar faces.
The young soldiers all wore expressions of hidden anxiety and unease.
"I heard this mission is going to be a lot more dangerous than we thought."
"Yeah, I heard something similar."
"But I think if we just follow orders, we should be able to make it back safely, right?"
They were whispering among themselves, their voices tinged with a slight tremor of nervousness.
Borne listened to their conversation, sighing inwardly.
These recruits had never truly experienced the baptism of blood and fire.
For these rookies, the upcoming battle would be an immense psychological challenge.
Meanwhile, the veterans still seemed excited, already discussing where to find some fun.
Their faces were full of excitement and fearlessness, as if the imminent battle was the last thing on their minds.
"Hey, once we get our money, I know a place where the girls are really friendly!"
"Really? Then I have to come with you!"
"I still haven't had enough of the last place we went to!"
"Let's go to that underground gambling den. The stakes are high there; let's see how much I can win this time!"
The veterans laughed heartily, a glint of mischief in their eyes.
These veterans had gone through countless life-and-death tests.
For them, relaxation and letting loose were just ways to cope with the pressure.
The line moved slowly forward, gradually approaching the entrance to the large tent.
With each step, Borne felt the atmosphere around him changing constantly.
Finally, it was their turn.
Borne reached the tent entrance, and the clerk there quickly recorded his name.
Then, he handed over a brief receipt and signaled for Borne to proceed to the table inside the tent to collect his wages.
Borne stepped into the tent and saw a middle-aged quartermaster, busy calculating the soldiers' wages.
Borne handed over the receipt, and the quartermaster didn't even bother to look up.
He quickly verified the details, then picked up a pouch from a pile and handed it to Borne.
"This is your pay, including the three months' advance and allowance. Take it, next!"
The quartermaster said flatly.
Borne took the pouch, nodded in thanks, and left the tent.
The first thing he did was weigh the pouch in his hand, hearing a faint clinking of coins inside.
He frowned slightly and then sighed softly.
The pouch was not heavy; there was obviously much less money in it than he had expected.
He roughly estimated it to be only eighty or ninety copper coins.
Soon after, the other team members came out one by one.
The first thing they did, like Borne, was weigh their pouches in their hands, and their faces also showed disappointment.
Dalton was the first to lose his patience. He quickly opened his pouch.
He rummaged through the so-called "allowance."
All he found was two silver coins, and eighty copper coins
"Damn it, they're so stingy?"
Dalton muttered under his breath, his face full of dissatisfaction.
"What's wrong?"
Albert, curious, stepped forward to ask.
"The allowance is just two silver coins."
"That's about as good as it gets. Stop complaining, and let's head to the town quickly. Maybe we can find something cheap,"
Heywood shrugged, clearly unsurprised, as if he had expected it.
"Anyway, everyone's salary and allowance are the same."
The group gathered to discuss for a moment and decided to split up.
To quickly decide on the team arrangement, they chose the simplest method: a game of rock-paper-scissors.
After a few quick rounds, they finally determined how to split up.
They ended up splitting into five groups, with Borne and Lucius paired together.
The ten of them stood in a circle, exchanging glances before giving a solemn salute.
Once the others had left, only Borne and Lucius remained.
Borne and Lucius discussed briefly and decided to head to the town's blacksmith shop to see if they could find any good weapons.
After all, Borne still remembered how the quality of the army's standard-issue bows was terrible and nearly got him killed.
Suddenly, Borne stopped walking and turned to Lucius.
"Wait a minute, I want to check on my warhorse at the stables."
Lucius nodded, crossing his arms and telling Borne he'd wait for him in front of the camp.
The stables were located to the west of the camp, surrounded by simple wooden fences, with someone assigned to look after the horses.
Borne exchanged a few brief words with the stable hand and then walked into the stables to see his old friend.
The smell in the stables wasn't very pleasant, but for Borne, who had been through countless battles, this was nothing.
He quickly spotted his warhorse.
A strong brown mare was leisurely munching on hay with her head lowered.
Hearing footsteps, she lifted her head, her ears twitching slightly.
Recognizing the familiar face, she trotted over to the fence.
"Radish!"
Borne called softly as he walked closer, extending his hand toward the mare.
She gently nudged Borne's palm with her nose, letting out a soft whinny as if greeting him.
Borne reached out to gently stroke the horse's neck, feeling the familiar texture of her coat and the warmth of her body.
Every time he touched his horse, it gave him an incredible sense of comfort.
This warhorse had accompanied him through countless life-and-death situations over the years.
"Your mane has grown long again; let me braid it for you,"
Borne chuckled, his fingers gently combing through Radish's mane.
The mare seemed to understand his words, standing quietly with her head slightly lowered, as if waiting for him to start.
Borne pulled out a small knife he carried at his waist and carefully trimmed the horse's mane.
Then, with patience, he began to braid the long strands, one by one.
His movements were gentle and practiced.
The horse cooperatively stood still, showing no fear that Borne might hurt her.
"Remember the first time we went into battle together? Back then, you didn't really obey commands and wouldn't even listen to me,"
Borne murmured softly, speaking as though he were conversing with the horse or perhaps talking to himself.
The mare gave a slight shake of her head and snorted, seemingly displeased with his remark.
Borne laughed and continued,
"I didn't mean to say anything bad about you."
After finishing the braids, Borne gently patted the horse's neck.
"There, you look even more spirited now. See you next time."