Chapter 22: Resentment
While digging a pit, George put down his shovel and asked Jima, “Did you make this yourself?”
“Yes.”
George, not being polite, jumped out of the pit directly, dusted off his hands, and took the lunch box from Jima. The lunch box was about the size of half a drawer. When George opened the wooden lid, the aroma inside immediately made him forget that he had eaten military rations for lunch.
Standing there, he held the lunch box with one hand and scooped up stir-fried onions with meat using a large spoon. After swallowing, he said, “Delicious! Since when does the army have a mobile kitchen?”
“My extraordinary ability,” Jima glanced at the feces pit that George had dug and intentionally said, “What a shame.”
“What a shame about what?”
“This pit is dug so well, yet no one has used it.”
“Isn’t that a good thing? Otherwise, there would be no appetite.”
“Look at the color of this pork. Doesn’t it look a bit like filth?”
“Not at all.”
“Next time, I’ll make curry,” Jima said, “the hometown delicacy of that mage from Shalin City, remember?”
At that time, George had taken Jima to find a way to lift the slave contract and found a mage. The mage enthusiastically served a plate of curry that looked 98% similar to diarrhea. Without hesitation, Jima immediately gave all the curry to George.
George said, “Why do you have to make me lose my appetite?”
“Just a little bit.”
The stir-fried onions and meat were plentiful, and George scooped a large spoonful of meat, saying, “You really understand me; you know I don’t like using chopsticks.”
“No, I just grabbed the serving spoon.”
George suddenly realized that they couldn’t continue chatting that day, so he decided to stop talking and focused on eating.
Jima, meanwhile, held Lianxi the cat, massaging her neck while watching George eat heartily, treating it like a live eating show. The two engaged in this dynamic of one eating and the other watching.
The fragrant aroma of the dish wafted around, causing nearby soldiers to cast envious glances.
Thinking about the hard bread they had been eating lately and the murky water they drank, their hearts felt increasingly unbalanced.
A shovel forcefully sunk into the soil.
A soldier with only a tuft of beard on his chin threw down his shovel, feeling quite displeased. Earlier, his commanding officer told him that George was going to be publicly whipped for not helping the kid with horns that had been killed that day.
How does that make sense? Those with horns on their heads are all beastmen; they’re just small now. Once they grow up, they will definitely become bloodthirsty beastmen.
Not chopping its head off directly was already quite amazing. Why should he be expected to see it as one of his own?
The soldier with the tuft of beard didn’t think a beastman could be his comrade.
The beautiful black-haired demon girl quietly stared at George, who was eating heartily.
The soldier with the tuft of beard, recalling the muddy water and the hard bread that scratched his throat, became more aggravated, threw down his shovel, and shouted:
“I quit!”
Initially, he wanted to shout loudly so that George, digging a shit pit twenty meters away, could hear him, but he couldn’t help but lower his voice.
A comrade beside him said, “Tuft, don’t do anything stupid.”
The soldier with the tuft of beard was even angrier. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he said, “It’s not fair! Why do we have to be whipped for that kid with horns? Could it be that the kid with horns is the commander’s lover?”
“What nonsense are you talking about?”
The tufted soldier also felt he was being excessive. He fell silent for a moment; George’s reputation among the soldiers was still quite high, as those who could fight commanded respect.
“Alright, keep working. We can rest when we finish until dusk today.”
“What’s the point? After a whole day, we still get whipped and eat hard bread.”
The sergeant worried that he wouldn’t want to work and would end up punished, so he said, “It’s break time now; everyone put down your shovels.”
The soldier with the tuft of beard continued to complain:
“It was all agreed that we could eat melon and drink melon wine, but that demon messed it up, and the commander didn’t punish her. That kid with horns should be kicked. Knowing he’s asking for a beating, he still insists on running to the village. Next time, we must tie him to a tree, tightly, and make sure he doesn’t run off to get into trouble.”
This garnered some agreement.
Someone said, “What if he goes to the commander to complain?”
“What are you afraid of? He can only punish one person at a time.” The tufted soldier said, “Better than now, the whole camp can’t get good supplies, and we’re stuck with hard bread, we can’t even shit.”
Someone suddenly whispered, “Ever since Commander George met that demon, things have been off. Is he starting to fall?”
The sergeant glared at him and said, “What are you talking about? Don’t you remember? Last time, a horned beast swung an axe at your neck. If Commander George hadn’t come to block the blow, you would have been ashes by now.”
He lowered his voice and said, “But Commander George is getting stranger. You say, he saves that kid with horns, and fights with his own brother. Why does he have to keep him around?”
The sergeant did not continue to stop the conversation. The soldiers gradually formed a circle in the shade of the tree.
The tufted soldier couldn’t help but say:
“What is there to question? It’s all because of that demon named Jima, who also has horns. She’s bewitched Commander George’s heart, and now he has a good impression of all horned folks. I heard he was once a promising figure; now he’s reduced to leading us, all because of that demon.”
“The priest keeps saying she’s not a good person.”
“Does that need saying? You can tell at a glance.”
“Funny thing is, before she told our fortunes, I thought she was a good person.”
“What good person? Advocating for peace with a spear stabbing directly.”
The tufted soldier poured all his grievances onto Jima:
“She’s the culprit for us not getting meat and not drinking wine. She buttered up the commander, and got no punishment at all.”
“I heard this operation is to find something for her. Haha, who knows how many brothers will die for her.”
After discussing for more than ten minutes and ‘criticizing’ Jima, they, full of resentment, took a sip of water and went back out into the blazing sun to dig ditches for the camp.
Not far away.
Inside a silver-white tent.
Eve Frostleaf twitched her long ears, having heard every word without missing a beat.
The elven maid said, “Lady Frostleaf, all the poisonous mushrooms have been picked out.”
A large basket of mushrooms was laid out on the blanket. Not far away, three dead rabbits lay on the ground, their throats pierced by a sword, with massive wounds and their heads almost coming off.
“There’s not much meat.”
“Just barely enough,” the elven maid said, “they can stew it in one pot, suitable for these monkeys’ taste.”
Unlike what Jima thought, Eve Frostleaf did not go to the forest to spread rumors but went hunting instead.
The elven maid continued, “Let’s just bring the inferior horned beasts we killed, remove the human-like parts. Inferior horned beasts are very much like livestock; after all, those humans won’t mind, as it fits their status.”
Eve Frostleaf shook her head and said, “I need to discuss military secrets.”
Saying this, she stood up and walked out of the tent.
The elven maid wanted to follow but Eve Frostleaf raised her hand to stop her.
She intended to tell George that while she was out hunting for leisure, she caught some prey, which she didn’t want to eat, and could use it to quell the soldiers’ grievances.
——————
Still four thousand words, a second update tomorrow at noon, already scheduled.
