Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 4

Six days after the goblin subjugation in the village, Walm’s squad arrived at the formerly annexed Kingdom of Canoa. The villages in the annexed territory showed almost no scars from the war five years ago. They then moved northwest, reaching the city of Saria, adjacent to the Mayard territory.

The city of Saria had a Highserk Empire fortress built alongside it, with half of the city surrounded by walls and the other half covered by rivers and moats. Saria, connected to the Highserk Empire territory via a tributary, was an ideal location for accumulating supplies and replenishing troops in preparation for Mayard. At all times, at least one battalion was stationed in this area.

For the upcoming invasion, battalions were gathering from all directions. Nine battalions, totaling 18,000 soldiers, were converging for the overtaking of Mayard. Saria, the last city to surrender, still bore the marks of magic and projectile damage on its walls and stone bridges, even after five years.

Passing through the city gate, Walm entered the city, where shops and houses lined the main street. Items sold in the open market were more expensive than in the Highserk mainland, especially food items, which Walm, in his farmer days, couldn’t have afforded.

The citizens, too, were mostly thin, with hardly any standard body types to be seen, except for Highserk Empire soldiers. Reaching Saria Fort and waiting in the training ground, Walm was greeted with unexpected words.

“Not all troops have assembled as planned. Enjoy, today is your day off.”

“Phew! Freedom’s the best!”

“Drinks first? Or women?”

“Why not both?”

Reinus, Tibard, Danfan, the three fools, vanished into the alleys like the wind. The Squad Leader Duwey, pressing his temples, grumbled.

“Hey, the speech isn’t over yet. Well… I guess it’s okay to leave them be.”

Faithful to their desires, considering the limited time, perhaps they were right. After all, the country was constantly in minor and major conflicts. The word ‘peacetime’ had long been forgotten by Walm. Since joining the army, he had been shuffled from one battlefield to another, fighting for survival, with no combat-free periods, just training and moving on. That such an army would grant a day off was unbelievable. Walm wondered if it was some kind of new training.

“Day… off?”

Humans fear what they can’t understand. Walm asked timidly, and the squad leader answered with a look as if he’d seen something strange.

“Yeah. Don’t you like time off?”

“No, it’s not that…”

“Right. Do whatever you like, like those guys. Drink, smoke, meet women. A big battle is coming so live without regrets. Just make sure to assemble on time and be ready at sunrise. You’ll be whipped if you’re late.”

With that, the squad leader clapped his hands as if to dismiss them, and the remaining members disappeared into the city. Left were the squad leader, Jose, and Walm.

“So, what will you do, Walm?”

“Ah, um… What should I…”

Walm, who hadn’t experienced free time for so long, didn’t know what to say to Jose. Raised in a rural village, he had never ventured out before joining the army. Besides farming, he spent time in the woods, gathering wild plants and hunting monsters. Opportunities for free activities had long been absent from his life. Suddenly given freedom, Walm was at a loss.

“You’re a guy with no desires, huh.”

“I’m going to drink with the squad leader. He knows a place, with an inn attached. You coming, Walm?”

Walm took the offer without thinking twice and followed them. Turning off the main street, they entered the alleys. Soldiers searching for their destination, beggars, and various people passed by. In one corner of the alley, a woman stood.

“Need company?”

She was a thin teenager. Where roundness should have been, bones and skin were prominent. She approached every passing soldier, including Walm.

“Need company?”

“No thanks.”

The other two seemed uninterested as well. Rejected by all the three of them, the woman bit her cheek and lowered her gaze to the ground.

“Here, buy yourself something to eat,” Walm said, understanding that it was next to nothing, yet he handed over a few copper coins. The girl, whose face had been shadowed, gave a slight smile and thanked Walm. It was, after all, money stolen from a corpse. Better for the coins to vanish into her stomach than to be spent on alcohol or tobacco. The girl, without showing any sign of happiness, disappeared into the alley.

“Walm, don’t make a habit of feeding them,” Jose cautioned from behind. Walm frowned at his coarse manner of speaking.

“She was wise to react the way she did. If she had openly shown her happiness, we would have been surrounded by beggars,” he noted, scanning the surroundings to see amputees from the war and child beggars. It was impossible for Walm to help everyone in the same way.

“Yeah, I’ll be more careful next time,” Walm replied, apparently giving a good enough answer to Jose as he nodded in approval.

“It’s not a waste, but if you’re going to pay for something, it might be better to get something in return at least. But I’m not keen on doing it here in the alley or in front of others either,” Jose added, as they watched other soldiers from their unit disappear into the alleys. Sweet voices leaked from the darkness and gaps between houses. It seemed to Walm like the voices of the three fools were mixed in.

“That wasn’t a real prostitute. The red-light district is far from here. With the war bringing in a lot of soldiers, amateurs looking to earn living expenses are pretending to be prostitutes. But if they get caught, it’ll cause trouble,” Jose explained. The red-light district operated on complex rights and interests. In any world, many would act radically to protect their profits. The squad leader continued through the alleys, ignoring the calls of solicitors. Given his menacing appearance, it was mostly Walm who attracted their attention.

“But Walm, you’ve killed so many on the battlefield, yet you’re oddly tender-hearted in strange places. We’re not monks or knights with a code of chivalry; such charity is meaningless. We’re just soldiers,” Jose said. He was the fourth son of a merchant, an unusual presence among soldiers. He could have lived as a servant for other merchants, but he chose the battlefield as the surest way to earn enough to own a cart or a shop. Such was Jose, adapted and resigned to the realities of surviving the battlefield. In contrast, Walm couldn’t completely shed or abandon the memories of his past life. He listened to Jose’s words without affirming or denying them until the squad leader muttered sadly.

“The Kingdom of Canoa used to be fertile land, but the war has reduced it to this.”

“Really? It wasn’t always like this?” Jose asked, showing interest.

“Five years ago, the Highserk Empire, which continued to expand, was attacked at the border by Canoa. We somehow won the war and took a village, only to find they used the beans I eat now were only used as livestock feed in here before,” the squad leader said, pulling out a small bag of beans Walm had eaten many times during the march and used in the pot.

“Now it’s come to this. Duke Mayard of the former Kingdom of Canoa abandoned his country for the neighboring kingdom of Felius. The Felian army and rogue local troops stole livestock from other Canoa territories, harvested green rice fields, and burned everything down. As a result, even our Highserk Empire, lacking in provisions, postponed the invasion until now.”

“Ugh, that’s annoying,” Jose said, shaking his head in disgust. Scorched-earth tactics were effective for an army dependent on enemy resources. Despite magical bags and stronger horses and beasts compared to the old world, it wasn’t enough to fully support the Highserk Empire.

“Mayard territory was temporarily abandoned, and though sparse, food aid helped Canoa recover. The resentment toward Mayard and Felius is heavier than any directed at the Highserk Empire. Being stabbed in the back by an ally would anger anyone.”

“I heard a battalion from the former Kingdom of Canoa is also participating in this operation. I was worried, but it seems there won’t be a problem.”

Continuing their conversation and deepening Walm’s knowledge of old Canoa, they reached the inn. It was a two-story building with a tavern on the first floor and lodging on the second. The exterior was soot-stained from cooking, and the entrance door bore fine scars from rough use.

Upon entering, a brass bell announced their arrival. At a table near the counter sat five Highserk soldiers, and at the back, well-dressed men who looked like regulars, probably local merchants, judging by their attire. Invited by the squad leader, they sat at a table, keeping a distance from the two groups.

“Today, I’m treating. We’ve finally got two newbies besides Walm who have survived.”

Jose whistled happily, and Walm smiled broadly. As the squad leader raised his hand and looked over, the innkeeper came from behind the counter to take their order.

“Three ales and a bottle of wine, and what’s ready to eat right away?”

The innkeeper thought for a moment and replied.

“We can quickly warm up hard-baked bread and a soup with water buffalo, onions, and beans. We also have catfish.”

“Bring both, enough for all three of us. Fry the catfish.”

Nodding, the innkeeper disappeared into the kitchen. The soup and bread arrived sooner than Walm expected, along with the ale.

“To continued fortune on the Libertoa border and in Mayard.”

The squad leader raised his mug. Walm, without hesitation, lifted his mug. After a loud clinking sound, they downed their drinks. For soldiers whose trade was war, toasting had to be exaggerated; a soldier who toasts modestly can’t be relied on, Walm had been taught.

The attentive innkeeper refilled their mugs with ale. Walm tore a piece of bread and dipped it in the soup, savoring the flavor of the water buffalo, onions, and beans. He speared the ingredients from the soup, enjoying the tender water buffalo meat and the beans that added a nice texture.

“I thought I was tired of bean soup on the road, but it’s transformed with different ingredients and a good cook.”

Walm expressed his admiration for the cultural meal. Jose nodded in agreement.

“Most of our meals were half-cooked,” he recalled.

As they finished the soup, fried catfish was served. Each portion was large, and Walm reached for a piece. The crispy coating gave way to the catfish’s delicious flavor, not too heavy despite being fried, thanks to the white fish’s light taste.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

Walm, raised in a world of rich food culture, had found the limited cooking of roasting or boiling hard. Finally, he could enjoy a meal without worrying about night raids or dawn attacks.

“The last time I ate fish was before deploying to Libertoa, right? That was river fish too, but catfish is tastier.”

The squad leader, in a good mood, quickly finished his ale and started on the wine.

“Here, eat and drink more.”

Prompted, Walm downed his remaining ale, and his mug was filled with wine. The wine’s strong acidity was perfect for cutting through the fried food’s oiliness. Though the sun hadn’t set yet, their drinking didn’t stop. Forgetting everything, they relished the food and drink before them.