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墨書 Inktalez
At the banquet, John wisely nestled in a corner, enjoying his meal and sipping on some wine. He had already done enough; he had received the favors and made his contributions. Any further display would be unnecessary. Now, all he needed to do was watch Redman and those two hefty pigs argue amongst themselves.
Regardless of whether Redman became the leader of the alliance or not, John knew he would not end up as cannon fodder in the future. Instead, due to today's maneuvering, he would emerge as a prominent figure within the entire alliance.
The day after the banquet, Redman looked at John with reluctance. "When will you come back next time?" He truly didn't want John to leave. For no other reason than that with John around, it felt like he could handle any setback. To him, John was like an external brain, his Kong Ming.
Wait a minute—Redman suddenly felt something strange. What was Kong Ming? Was it some kind of lamp with holes?
John freed himself from Redman's grasp. "No need to see me off, big brother. Besides, I’ll be back when it’s time for military matters. You should focus on training your troops during this time; I wouldn’t want to outshine you."
"Outshine me? That’s not normal! You are our Iron General from the Third Legion!"
Mentioning the title of Iron General made John feel awkward. Back at Garon Pass with the Third Legion, he had spent his idle days training soldiers. Who would have thought that in comparison, everyone noticed how disciplined and combat-ready his troops became? Thus, they gave him that nickname.
As he stood up, John understood that it was merely a result of comparing subpar standards. Those nobles from another world looked down on these Serf soldiers who indulged in revelry daily. Many times, their own soldiers fell behind or were lost among other units.
In such comparisons, John emerged as the most capable leader during the Orc Counterattack War.
After bidding farewell to the hospitable Redman, John slowly turned and set off down the road leading to Salty Fish Village once more.
Unlike when he first arrived, this time his caravan included a spacious wagon filled with an array of exquisite gifts and accompanied by a strong warhorse. These were all lavish presents prepared by Redman to express his gratitude towards John.
After a long journey, they finally returned to the familiar Salty Fish Village. The village still appeared tranquil and harmonious.
Upon reflection, it wasn’t surprising; after all, only two short days had passed since his departure, making it difficult for any significant changes to occur in such a brief time.
John dismounted from the wagon and methodically directed his subordinates to unload the wagon full of gifts into storage.
The fine fabrics were arranged to be given to the village tailors so they could craft new garments for all the officials. As for the dazzling jewelry, it was all safely placed in Annie's room.
Once he finished handling this series of complicated tasks, the sun began to set gradually, painting the sky with brilliant hues of twilight.
John did not pause in his busy schedule but headed straight towards the barracks. From a distance, he could see the cooks working energetically under the warm light of the setting sun, preparing a big pot of fragrant rice porridge.
They occasionally tossed fresh greens into the pot as an extra treat for dinner.
But don’t think for a moment that this was shortchanging the soldiers.
You see, ordinary Serf Soldiers often only got coarse bread when they were out on missions; if luck was against them in harsher conditions, they might even have to gnaw on plain black bread just to stave off hunger.
As for the additives, one must mention the innovative spirit of the nobles. In their quest to save money, they would add anything from sawdust to tree bark into black bread. The cooled black bread could even serve as a weapon for self-defense. I once heard Lai Gen from the Gray Bear Mercenary Corps recount a tale of an unfortunate mercenary who was killed by a loaf of black bread.
Speaking of Lai Gen, I wonder where he ended up. By some nameless river, a skeleton now greets the world with a polite reminder: "Your mother's kiss." It seems I am almost reduced to nothing; are you planning to reincarnate me in this filthy land?
"Sir!" A samurai stationed at the military camp rushed over upon seeing John. "Relax, I just got back and thought I’d drop by out of boredom. Please get me a bowl of porridge."
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