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墨書 Inktalez
The moment Azul stepped back into the shadows, he felt a wave of coolness wash over him, as if he had walked from the scorching desert into an oasis. However, this tranquility was quickly shattered by the thick stench of sweat and sour odors that filled the narrow corridor, mingling with the scents of dust and old leather, causing him to involuntarily wrinkle his nose. This smell was an unavoidable part of life in the barracks, but each deep breath brought an indescribable discomfort.
As he entered the Armory, he saw his comrades swiftly removing their armor and helmets, hanging them back on the storage racks one by one. The air was filled with the sounds of metal clashing and leather creaking. Azul was no exception; he quickly unfastened his gear, feeling the weight lift significantly from his body. The heavy spear was carefully placed back on the weapon rack, each placement done with caution to avoid making too much noise.
Despite the unpleasant odors surrounding him, the Armory was alive with the sounds of clashing weapons and the laughter of warriors. The jokes and light-hearted conversations among his comrades filled the space with vitality, offering Azul a sense of solace. In this fleeting moment of peace, he truly felt the comfort and safety of returning to camp. The laughter around him allowed him to temporarily forget the heat and fatigue; this brief respite felt like a rare breath of fresh air amidst the long routine of battle.
Once everyone had quickly changed their gear, they lined up neatly, ready to follow William to the mess hall. However, Azul felt completely devoid of appetite. The patrol mission under the blazing sun had left him feeling roasted, and combined with the strong human odors in the barracks, just thinking about entering that enclosed and steamy mess hall made him feel nauseous. The camp's meals were known for being filling rather than delicious, usually consisting of slop cooked in large pots and a few pieces of hard bread.
In such weather, even the simplest dishes became particularly hard to swallow. The food in the barracks was typically greasy and lacked freshness; after prolonged exposure to sunlight, even those vegetables that should have been served cold became warm and sticky. Yet no matter how unappetizing it was, these meals were necessary to replenish their dwindling strength.
Although Azul had no expectations for the upcoming lunch, he obediently followed the line into the mess hall. The moment he stepped inside, a wave of heat mixed with greasy food odors hit him squarely in the face, causing him to frown involuntarily. The steam rising from the dishes under the lights made the entire space feel even hotter; perhaps the soldiers in line felt similar discomfort but bore it silently as they prepared to swallow down this essential nourishment.
Holding his tray tightly, Azul frowned at the gloppy food and a few pieces of bread that were as hard as rocks on his plate. However, today he had deliberately taken extra servings of Qiuqiu fruit—this fruit, regarded as a common snack by ordinary civilians, seemed particularly precious in such sweltering weather. The Qiuqiu fruit boasted vibrant colors on its exterior; when cut open, it revealed juicy insides whose juice served as a natural thirst quencher for soldiers suffering under high temperatures.
Azul found a corner to sit down and casually stabbed a fork into a Qiuqiu fruit. As the fork pierced through its thin skin, clear yet slightly cloudy juice flowed out rapidly. He hurriedly leaned down to catch the dripping juice with his mouth. The sweet and sour flavor exploded in his mouth instantly—refreshing and penetrating—like a gentle rain nourishing his dry throat and parched body.
Each sip of Qiuqiu fruit juice brought waves of coolness and comfort to Azul; he could almost feel it flowing through his veins, carrying away some intangible fatigue and irritation. Even though the environment around him remained stiflingly hot, that refreshing sensation from the Qiuqiu fruit seemed to allow him to temporarily forget his discomfort in this greasy and sweaty military mess hall.
Azul gulped down cold water; its icy flow coursed through his heated throat, bringing an indescribable relief. He roughly wiped away droplets from his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned back contentedly with closed eyes, immersing himself in this brief moment of coolness. However, this tranquility was suddenly disrupted by an unusual sound of surprise echoing through the mess hall—a rare commotion in what was usually a serious military dining area.
Unable to help himself, Azul opened his eyes out of curiosity and turned towards the source of those voices. He noticed that these unexpected discussions were coming from a table where officers usually sat. There sat several high-ranking officers who typically engaged in serious discussions about significant matters.
As Azul focused on that table, he saw several officers seemingly gathered around some exciting news. A stern-looking colonel held an envelope that had just been opened; an expression of rare excitement lit up his face while his companions looked astonished—some even stood up as if deeply shaken by the contents of the letter.
Not only Azul, but the other soldiers in the restaurant also noticed the unusual scene. Gradually, the previously noisy atmosphere quieted down, and everyone's attention was drawn to the group of officers who were usually serious and taciturn. Azul couldn't help but furrow his brow, filled with curiosity about what news could evoke such vivid emotions from the proud officers.
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