Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 77

Having completed a kindly passage of rites, the group began their journey to the magical silver mine known as the Karoloria Vein. The journey would take about two days, but for Walm, accustomed to marching, it was no more than a leisurely walk. The familiar soldiers of Highserk had already joined the defense unit at the Karoloria Vein.

Involving an external army in the conflicts between the lords of the Archipelago Countries was bound to attract criticism. Ironically, Highserk was a suitable choice in this regard. Officially, the empire was considered fallen, so employing a mercenary group that included many former soldiers of the wandering old Highserk Empire was a feasible approach. Whether this was a suggestion from the Dalimarcus family was unclear, but considering the empire’s history of forcefully manipulating international situations, it was almost certain.

Lost in thought, Walm’s attention was drawn back to the present by the slowing pace of the entire unit. The stamina of the common soldiers varied greatly, and their unfamiliarity with the handling and weight of the spears during the march caused the formation to stretch out.

Normally, carrying a spear meant supporting it on one’s shoulder. Experienced soldiers would naturally adjust the angle of their spears even when close together, but the inexperienced troops often bumped their spears into each other, causing them to collide.

In fact, a spear was looming towards Walm. Grabbing the wandering spear tip, he decided to give a warning.

“Don’t let your spear hang too low. It could hit someone. It’s better to keep it at a steeper angle.”

“Yes, sorry,” replied a young soldier, obediently adjusting the angle of his spear. But as time passed, it would gradually fall again. Keeping a spear on one’s shoulder for a long time could cause chafing and swelling.

If one was accustomed to carrying a spear, the repeated irritation would either harden the skin or allow the unconscious creation of a magical barrier, but it was a harsh expectation for the boy.

Walm briefly considered offering to carry the spear for him, but in battle, there were few things one could rely on. In combat, entrusting one’s favorite and most relied-upon spear to someone else was out of the question. “Never let go of your weapon, even if you let go of your lover’s hand,” the now-deceased three fools used to say.

“It’s dropping again. If your shoulder hurts, put a piece of cloth over the contact area. It’ll feel a bit better.”

Walm always carried a piece of cloth. It could be used to prevent the sound of iron rubbing together and also to wrap food. Its greatest advantage was serving as a bandage when he or his comrades were injured.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have one,” the boy said, embarrassed. Walm had brought one with him when he left his rural village, having been taught by his experienced uncle, but without someone to instruct, such knowledge wasn’t acquired. Walm pulled a cloth from his magic bag.

“Take this and use it.”

“Ah, thank you. Oh, what’s inside?”

It was unclear whether the boy accepted out of naivety or desperation, but he took it without hesitation. The bag contained beans.

“Dried beans. It’s too much trouble to take them out. Share them between you two.”

“Thank you so much!”

“I’m sorry to take even your beans.”

The boys looked at each other, then tried to eat the beans with one hand, but struggled to get them to their mouths.

After all, walking while holding a spear in one hand made it impossible for the boy holding the beans to bring them to his mouth. His partner, with one hand free, tried to match his walking pace while reaching out, but it inevitably became awkward. It was like a comedy act. Walm, about to laugh, held back and said,

“The beans are falling. Give me your spears, I’ll hold them for you.”

“No, you don’t need to go that far.”

“I don’t want to be hit with a spear while you’re desperately trying to eat beans.”

During the march, Walm had his halberd stuffed in his magic bag and, apart from a longsword hanging at his waist, he was unencumbered. As Walm extended his hand, two spears were hesitantly offered. Gripping the handed-over spears, he lowered his gaze. They were mass-produced, uniformly made in length. The simple straight spears had no branch blades, and their tips were reinforced with iron plates to prevent them from being cut off.

Though the material was hard, a full swing would cause it to flex, allowing it to strike an enemy soldier through their helmet and deliver an effective blow. Before Walm used his halberd, he often wielded a similar spear. Though it was discarded after becoming worn in battle, it was a versatile spear, good for striking, thrusting, and slashing. It was lighter than Walm’s iron spear, even though there were 2 of them.

While playing with the spears he had acquired and recalling distant memories, it seemed the boys had finished eating their beans. They were now tilting their wooden water flasks, which were apparently hard to pour from. It looked like they had run out during the march.

Falling from dehydration before the battle would have been troublesome. Walm sighed inwardly. There was no helping it now that he was involved.

“Give me your flasks. I’ll refill them,” Walm said in a low voice. The boy tilted his head but complied obediently.

“Your bodies are still small, and you have less blood than adults. I understand the need but be mindful of distribution. You can’t always get drinking water whenever you want.”

Walm’s former squad had two members who were water attribute magic users, so they never struggled for water. However, other squads often had trouble securing it.

Their constant front-line looting played a big part, and because they could purify water, their squad received better supplies than others. Interestingly, their position reversed with the earth attribute squads when it came to establishing camps.

Taking the spear and receiving the water flasks, Walm used his magical power and water magic to fill them. Unlike his aptitude for fire and wind, water was his limit, and considering the amount he needed to fill, it was a poor trade-off for the magical power used. After filling them to the brim, Walm handed back the flasks.

“Don’t make a fuss about it.”

The boys understood Walm’s intention. They nodded repeatedly, using only their heads. Walm would reluctantly accept the role of a water dispenser at mealtimes or before sleeping, but marching already consumed his physical strength. If every soldier in the column asked him for water, his weak water magic would leave him exhausted.

The spear that had been wavering in front of him, thanks to his guidance, no longer threatened Worm, allowing him to continue marching with peace of mind.

◆

The twin moons were peeking over the horizon, heralding the arrival of night. The march had drained everyone’s energy, and no one was in the mood for a big celebration.

Walm chose a secluded spot at the camping site for his bed. He pulled a one-handed battle axe from his magic bag and began chopping down a suitable piece of tree. Though it was a moist, water-rich green wood, to Walm, who was proficient in fire attribute magic, this was a minor issue.

Turning the blade of the axe upside down, he used its claw-like protrusions to dig a hole in the ground. A depression kept heat better and also served as a windbreak. The ground was slightly moist, but Walm arranged the split firewood in a crisscross pattern to form a square tower, then activated his fire magic.

A few seconds of his human torch-burner dried out the moisture, and the wood caught fire, sending blue flames up from the sunken ground. Walm placed the remaining firewood near the fire. This way, even without using his fire magic, the moisture would naturally evaporate.

After removing and setting aside his armor, Walm turned his attention back to the firewood, pondering if he needed more or if there was suitable wood nearby. Just then, two soldiers approached.

“May we join you?” one asked.

Walm made a clearly displeased face, but the young soldiers seemed not to care. Perhaps it was because it was getting dark and hard to see.

“We know it’s not much, but we’ve gathered some firewood as thanks.”

Since the whole unit was marching together, gathering firewood had become competitive. The two young soldiers had apparently been diligently collecting it. Considering the effort involved in gathering firewood, Walm thought it best to graciously accept their offering.

“Firewood is welcome. Sit wherever you like.”

The young soldiers sat around the fire.

“We’re sorry for the trouble during the march.”

“The dried beans were delicious.'”

“Don’t worry about it. I was helped in my early days as a soldier too.”

Walm, barely knowing his right from his left, had been assisted by his squad leader, the three fools, and others from his squad.

“Ah, right. I haven’t introduced myself yet. My name is Kuwen.”

The short-haired boy introduced himself. He was the type of young man brimming with energy.

“I’m Karim.”

The chestnut-haired boy, Karim, spoke in a drawn-out manner, his relaxed demeanor giving Walm a sense of his easygoing nature.

“My name’s Walm.”

Having exchanged pleasantries and introductions, Walm proceeded with preparing the meal.

“I’m making a pot stew. Do you have anything to contribute?”

What the boys pulled out were beans, dried sweet potatoes, and a mushroom with a sinister color.

“Can we eat that…?”

Food poisoning was no joke. One could be left behind during a march if they fell ill. Walm looked suspiciously at the boys, who hastened to explain.

“It’s thick and delicious.”

“It looks poisonous, but we used to eat it in our village.”

There are more people with a resistance to poison in this world than one might expect. Some even possessed it unconsciously. Walm had no intention of doubting the boys’ words, but he was not particularly enthusiastic. The problem was it would be in the pot.

Should he ask the younger boys not to put in the mushroom, fearing they might get poisoned?

— Walm decided to place his trust in his own stomach and steeled himself for whatever came next.

He took out salt, cabbage, and sausage from his magic bag and lined them up with the other ingredients. As Walm began to gather water, the two boys naturally started cooking.

They chopped the ingredients finely with a short knife and thrust two Y-shaped branches into the ground, placing a relatively straight branch on top. Cooking was completed much faster with their help than if he had done it alone.

“You’re the magic soldier who was shooting fireballs during the drills, Mr. Walm, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Walm realized then. He had locked eyes with a boy who had fallen during the exercise, but on reflection, it was the very boy sitting in front of him.

“Kuwen, you were the one who fell over.”

The chestnut-haired boy teased.

“It can’t be helped. It was the first time I saw magic exploding up close.”

“Well, to be honest, I almost fell over too.”

The two continued their conversation in a friendly manner. Occasionally, Walm would join in, but the focus of the conversation was mainly between the two of them. Most of what they talked about pertained to the battlefield.

The excitement of their first real battle, coupled with an indescribable anxiety, made the boys more talkative than usual, Walm sensed.

“It’s ready.”

“Yeah, It’s cooked.”

“I’ll serve it.”

The pot, heated by the campfire, bubbled vigorously, its aroma tantalizing their nostrils. Steam rose from the soup scooped up by the ladle.

Everyone waited for their servings, and Walm tasted the soup. Despite his suspicions about the poisonous mushroom, the flavor had thoroughly infused the soup, and the mushroom itself was meaty and satisfying.

The other ingredients were enhanced, with the cabbage and beans also absorbing the flavor. Biting into the sausage released a burst of juicy flavor.

Even soaking the hard bread issued to them in the soup was delicious. The ravenous boys struggled with the hot food; Kuwen was battling the residual heat from the big bites he took, while Karim ate at a steady pace.

When was the last time Walm had shared a meal like this with someone, he wondered sentimentally as he quietly savored his soup.

The conversation continued after the meal, but the two, having expended a lot of energy, were soon overcome by sleepiness. Walm took the warm stone he had heated by the fire, removed it with a stick, and wrapped it in cloth to give to the boys.

In this world without hand warmers, soldiers would put heated stones in their pockets to maintain body heat during night watches or standoffs that lasted through the night. This also proved effective before sleeping. The two boys, with the cloth-covered warm stones in their bellies, lost consciousness as if they had fainted.

Walm, too, entrusted his body to the warmth of the stone and wrapped himself in his cloak. The sounds of snoring and breathing filled the encampment. He curled up his limbs inside the cloak. It almost felt unreal that they were heading to a battlefield.

Staring at the fire and breathing out white breaths, the night deepened. The poor sleep that had plagued him since joining the military receded, and his consciousness slowly faded away.

Translator – Lyxxna