Chapter 16: Marching
At the end of summer, the sun blazed.
It seemed as if summer anticipated the approaching autumn, knowing its time was short, and struggled in its dying days, carelessly pouring its scorching rays onto the earth.
The intense light wilted the vibrant green leaves, and when the wind blew, it brought the scent of dry leaves from the woods.
A column of soldiers was marching, trampling a path through the grass. To escape the heat, the soldiers wore no armor and no combat gear, advancing bare-chested, while mules and packhorses carried supplies and armor. George rode his heavenly warhorse at the forefront, carrying the banner of the Sanctum.
The Sanctum soldiers wore anxious expressions. The wind rustled through the trees, shaking branches and causing leaves to rattle; the soldiers nervously glanced towards the depths of the woods, searching for signs of beastmen.
In contrast to the wilted leaves and anxious soldiers, Jima was full of energy. Wearing short sleeves, she rode her chestnut mare from the back of the column to the front, shouting encouragingly at the soldiers:
“Don’t worry, there are definitely no beastmen attacks in the nearby woods. Walk forward boldly!”
Jima raised her fair right arm and continued, “Jima’s divination is trustworthy.”
The soldiers beside her turned their heads expressionlessly, looking at the dark horns on Jima’s head and her tail.
Jima smiled at them, and they immediately turned away.
“Oh dear, what shy boys you are,” Jima said with a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you back to our hometown to get married.”
The marching priest, walking alongside, sighed sorrowfully: “Our army is doomed to fail, marching unarmed in a dangerous area.”
This morning, Commander George had ordered the soldiers to march lightly, citing that the succubus Jima had divined there would be no beastmen ambushes today. To arrive at their destination as soon as possible, all armor was placed onto the pack animals.
This made the soldiers uneasy. As a disciplined army, Sanctum soldiers had long been taught that regardless of heat or exhaustion, they must march in armor, especially since their enemies were cunning ambushers like the beastmen. Without the advantage of armor, they would suffer heavy casualties if ambushed.
More importantly, the one who made the divination was a being with horns on her head.
No matter how you looked at it, Jima resembled the beastmen they had fought against recently, just not as ugly; she looked quite human. However, the longer they looked, the more she appeared to be an undercover agent sent by the beastmen.
Although the soldiers were reluctant, they had no choice but to follow orders.
The marching priest had certain privileges; he wore a plate armor, with his helmet hanging behind him by a rope, and his thighs protected by chainmail skirts, making a clanking sound as he walked. He was just an ordinary bronze transcendent, without effective means of cooling down, and sweat dripped continuously from his chin.
Jima rode her chestnut mare alongside him and said:
“Your Excellency, with such heat, why not simply take off your armor? It wouldn’t be good if you couldn’t keep up with the column.”
The marching priest glanced at Jima’s exposed white arm, tightened his grip on his insignia, and murmured, “May my god protect us, may the monsters and demons stay away.”
“Time will tell you how foolish you are.”
“Chapter 5, Verse 3: Every time an evil being tempts a person, it must first offer a sweet apple to gain their trust before plotting their soul.”
“Good memory.” Jima urged her horse forward, reaching George’s side.
“How is it?”
“The prejudice in people’s hearts is like a mountain.”
“Any effort to climb that mountain is commendable.”
“What chapter and verse is that now?”
“I said it myself.”
“Impressive.” Jima said, “So you mean that everyone who has climbed the mountain will reduce the mountain of prejudice in people’s hearts, right?”
“I’m glad you didn’t complain today.” George glanced toward his horned boy servant behind the horse.
Ever since Jima, like a hen laying eggs, flaunted her usefulness, the horned boy had been fixated on her.
“…set a good example.”
“If you do something, you must take credit for it; those who work silently without recognition are either fools or cowards.”
“Cowards?”
“Because they fear that what they do might harm everyone and result in their own disgrace.”
“Why aren’t there people who disdain fame and fortune?”
“I told you,” Jima said. “Aren’t they just fools?”
“How can you say that?”
“Don’t get me wrong; I quite like fools.” Jima said. “Who doesn’t like fools?”
“…Fine, you’ve done a rare good deed for the benefit of yourself and others.”
“Wow, you actually saw through my intentions.” Jima feigned surprise. “You figured out I want the army to hurry to Withered Wood Mountain so I can get promoted to Platinum sooner.”
“Just think about it a little and you’ll understand.”
“That’s discrimination and prejudice.”
“Jima, it’s no longer fun like this.”
“I don’t care; you’ve shown discrimination and prejudice.” Jima said, “You owe me a favor—I’m talking about last night.”
Jima had been keeping an eye on Eve Frostleaf, noticing her long ears standing upright.
“Last night, you indeed helped me a great deal.”
“Of course, it cost me a good bit of effort and left me exhausted…”
Eve Frostleaf’s long ears stood even straighter.
“…and it took so much time that I ended up soaking wet with sweat.”
George recalled that when Jima entered his dream, she had indeed been sweating. He nodded and said, “Thank you for your hard work, consider it a favor I owe you.”
The hot air suddenly dropped several degrees as Eve Frostleaf in her silver armor approached George and spoke in Elven:
“Indulging in desires is not good for body or mind… Of course, I’m only mentioning this out of previous camaraderie from battle to remind you.”
Before George, who looked puzzled, could ask, Jima interjected in Elven: “That’s called balancing work and rest. Besides, sister, are you really so nosy about other people’s private matters? Not to mention, George is already quite excellent and doesn’t need you to worry about our private affairs.”
Eve Frostleaf, who had been ignoring Jima, suddenly turned her head sharply, her green eyes coldly glaring at Jima as she said:
“I am merely advising out of concern for a friend.”
“Then I’m relieved; I thought it was purely a matter of male and female relationships.” Jima laughed. “I was worried you were trying to steal my bed.”
Eve Frostleaf’s ears turned slightly red: “You’re thinking wildly.”
With only four people in attendance who understood Elven, Jima grew even bolder in her speech:
“Is it wild thinking? One can tell that the beautiful and noble Lady Frostleaf would never share a husband with another woman, nor would she endure disgust to feel the warmth of a succubus.”
Under what circumstances could one feel the warmth of a succubus? The high elf, skilled in reading between the lines, immediately grasped Jima’s implication.
Eve Frostleaf’s expression grew more haughty, yet a pink blush spread from her ears.
She took a deep breath and said in Elven: “I shan’t stoop to talk with you.”
With that, she raised her chin and distanced herself from Jima.
George turned to Jima, who innocently blinked her big eyes and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect Sister Eve to react so strongly.”
Seeing her mistress humiliated, the equally mounted elven maid pulled the reins and came over, scolding:
“You vile succubus, how dare you slander Lady Frostleaf to be as depraved as you? Only you could enjoy being hung up, bound, demeaned, and violated by coarse instruments; normal people dislike that. Thank you.”
“Such a familiar pose.” Jima was neither angry nor upset, and she waved her hand, signaling George to calm down. “Isn’t that pose from ‘The Queen of Elves in Distress’? You’re quite knowledgeable.”
“For you, those are all—”
“Enough!” Eve Frostleaf interrupted, her ears now completely red, like a cooked shrimp. “Don’t argue with allies over trivial matters.”
“Yes, my lady.” The elven maid glared at Jima before leaving.
Jima thoughtfully stared at Eve Frostleaf, noting not only her flushed ears but also her visibly rapid breathing.
As a succubus with a talent for performance, Jima had a great advantage in reading emotions.
She concluded that Eve Frostleaf’s reaction was too intense, almost as if she had been publicly reciting a personal secret.
Wait, could it be that these were her sexual fantasies?
Jima had this thought suddenly pop into her head. With a light smile, she urged her horse closer to Eve Frostleaf.
Even when Eve Frostleaf shot her a cold, piercing glance, rejecting her presence, a normal person would have turned away under her proud and frosty demeanor.
But for the old rogue Jima, it held no threat.
“Hey, Sister Frostleaf.”
Eve Frostleaf kept her gaze straight ahead and ignored Jima.
Jima whispered, “Sister Frostleaf wouldn’t fantasize about being tied up by George and assaulted, would she? No way, right?”
Eve Frostleaf glared at Jima.
Jima showed an innocent and pure smile.
Eve Frostleaf took a deep breath and muttered, “I am the Winger of Death, the Foe of Destiny, the Ender of All! Unstoppable, unyielding…”
Jima felt her heart sting as if pricked by a needle and pulled away on her horse, covering her ears as she said, “Stop reciting, stop reciting.”
Eve Frostleaf’s cool voice finally ceased, and she continued to maintain her unwavering gaze ahead.
Only when Jima had put some distance between them did Eve Frostleaf let out a barely audible sigh of relief.
The army continued marching until evening, eventually stopping by the roadside where some people took out spades from their packs.
Jima waved her hand and called, “It’s getting late, and there’s no need to set up a temporary camp.”
No one paid attention to her.
After silencing Jima, George ordered, “Set up tents, prepare a bonfire, and dig a trench; that will suffice. Don’t waste time sleeping. We’ll march at dawn while it’s still cool.”
Although they hadn’t seen any beastmen all day, a low wall made of wooden sticks anchored in the ground surrounded the temporary camp.
People still found it hard to believe Jima’s words.
She acted as if nothing had happened. After dinner, she crawled into Eve Frostleaf’s tent, bathed in the dream palace, and lay down to sleep, getting back to her reconnaissance work in the dream.
——
(Note: One of the reasons ambushes often achieve miracles in war history.)
The exam is over; with more time on my hands, I’ll strive to add three more chapters before the end of the month.
