Walking through the hellish streets, with the help of Andrew and Briss, the group finally came to a place that resembled a square, where there were no stalls at all, or even empty, except for the newly erected tent and the bonfire that had not yet had time to rise, and a large black cauldron on it.

"Okay, just like it was when Ludinand did!"

Despite everyone's hunger, Andrew laughed optimistically, and I was helped into the tent closest to the campfire. The tired-faced, dirty-clad and blood-stained soldiers were busy, some lighting fires and others preparing vegetables. The food in the barracks is really simple, and I think that a person like me, who can't even chop vegetables, can be a skilled cook.

The soldiers borrowed fire from a nearby camp, drew their iron swords, wiped the blood from them, and roasted them very casually on the bonfire that had just been raised, which was considered sterilization.

Next, they made a very traditional porridge called Miles, which feels like a porridge with everything can be traced back to the days of the Republic. The cook in charge of cooking was late, but it didn't affect his performance, I saw him look at the boiling water rolling in the iron pot, poured a bag of cereal and chickpeas into it, and took out a cabbage with the iron sword that had just been sterilized, and cut the cabbage into pieces and threw it into the pot, of course, how could such a good chef make the food in this pot look so monotonous, and he also added onions, greens, and a lot of coarse salt.

As for the spices, they are a delicacy that only the upper echelons can enjoy, and low-level soldiers like us are not qualified to eat such seasoned things. Salt, salt is enough.

How could a hungry soldier just wait, he roasted green onions by the fire, and this way of eating made me feel good.

As a result, Andrew handed me a section of roasted green onions, and looking at the blackened green onion, I sniffed, well, there was no unappetizing taste, and tried to take a bite. The main thing is that there is no crispness of the original green onions, and the rest is really good, I must be too hungry.

It was a delicious meal, as the population had plummeted due to the war, and the soup that had previously only been able to be divided into one bowl could now be enjoyed in two bowls. Looking at the "beggars" sitting on the ground in twos and threes, I don't know whether to be glad that they were fed or to sigh for the blood they shed in battle.

"This time our two centurians were lost in half, there were no wounded, and the wounded were all abandoned by us." Andrew sat beside me, his tone heavy, as if he were full of guilt and guilt for the victim.

"Don't blame yourself, Andrew." I endured the pain and tried to comfort him and get him back on his feet.

"This is war, and if the decision-making at the top is slightly wrong, we, the soldiers at the bottom, will pay the price of needless blood." When I said this, I indirectly shifted all the blame and hatred to the chief centurion Guy who still didn't know his whereabouts. It seems to me that this bastard is more than innocent, and his damned grievance reclaimant, Anthony, for some reason, I always offend them inadvertently, and they do everything they can to kill me.

At the end of the dinner, the pain made me feel no sleepy at all, at my insistent request, Andrew helped me slowly to the street, he put me in the corner of the wall, let me lean against the wall to support, and then I found two chairs out of nowhere, I took him by hand, now it is okay, we can sit on the side of the road and watch the superb view, for the first time in the world, we have a long talk together.

"That's it?" I watched as the phalanx of soldiers passed in front of me, coming in from outside the city. I spread my hand, smiled at Andrew, and said, "Just so casually, like a tumor, the Burgundian was eradicated?" ”

"Not really, Luga!"

Andrew's face was hard to hide, and he almost collapsed in his chair. He continued weakly: "In this battle, we have paid huge casualties, I heard that the Eighth Brother-in-Arms Legion has been reduced by one-third, not to mention the other auxiliary mercenaries, they are at the forefront. ”

"That's not enough?" I was a little puzzled, and then asked, "We have paid so many casualties that Anthony, the bastard who used to greet us with a smile, has changed his face to a thousand knives, why?" Haven't the Burgundians perished yet? ”

"I think that's as it should be, Luga." Andrew looked at me and continued: "According to the scout who delivered the order, before we attacked the city, the scout found a large number of Burgundian troops with many civilians leaving the north gate, probably thinking of crossing the Rhine and escaping from our borders." ”

"That's fine, I can't come back for at least a while after running." I breathed a sigh of relief, and the nerves that had been tense for months could finally be stretched.

"No, our marshal doesn't intend to end it like that!"

Andrew's words are undoubtedly a basin of cold water, which poured a cold water on my little comfort.

"What?"

My exclamation not only alarmed many people's side eyes, but also caused a sharp pain in my chest. All of my aesthetic wounds were due to the war, and we were either fighting or on the way to fight for the sake of a barely subsistence salary. Thrown into the war for no reason, being incited to hate another person who has not yet been born, and trying to put them to death.

"Kill until you are killed. This may be our fate. ”

I weakly stroked the hilt of my cavalry sword, after the maintenance method I learned temporarily, more than three months have passed, this sword can still be maintained sharp enough, for me, there is no rust, sharp enough to kill a weapon, it is a good weapon. But now I am indescribably tired of war, and I would rather go back to farming for others and endure the ordinary life of wind and sun than fight here. Maybe I'm afraid of death, so I'd better back down.

"What, Luga? You're scared. Andrew looked at me with a smile on his face, just the corners of his mouth turned up, looking at me intently.

"Aren't you afraid?" I asked rhetorically.

"Scared?" He looked up at the sky, his gaze as deep as the blue sky. "I'm terrified all the time, and I'm so tired of war. ”

"Maybe we don't really know what we're fighting for! So these commanders who don't know how to cherish it are squandering our lives for only one time. ”

"Huh? Luga? Can't we go to heaven? ”

"Well, Andrew, no amount of beauty in heaven can compare to our homeland!"