“All wars are typically one part fighting for your life, and ninety-nine parts of either boring tedium or dirty jobs.” - Arthur Mac Dougall, general from the Kingdom of Vitalica, circa 272 VA.
Kev’s mood had seen many ups and downs in the past week alone.
He, along with Larissa, Skuljd, as well as several dozen other mercenary trainees had established themselves as the most “promising” out of all the trainees. As a reward, they were assigned to one of the Company’s newly built platoons, rather than having to compete with veterans in the existing platoons. That gave them more chances to show their mettle and prove their worth.
That the leader of the platoon – as well as her own group of around two dozen close friends – he was assigned to was a good bit younger than most everyone else had not bothered him much. He was well aware of the girl’s identity as the Captain’s adopted daughter, and besides, it was her who smacked him around during the foolish challenge he had made a couple years ago.
The girl was just twelve at that time, too.
Since he was made an official member of the Company, life had been mostly… the same. There was still the regular training, though less of it compared to when he was a trainee, and otherwise they were pretty inactive due to the nature of their current contract. As such, Kev was excited when he heard that they would be deployed for combat a little over a week ago.
That excitement quickly spiraled down to nervousness and dread, however, as he thought about actually going into battle with his life on the line. Even so, during the week-long march towards the planned battlefield, words from his friends and seeing how the youngsters in the platoon were not in the least bit afraid of the battle to come raised his spirits once more.
When he laid eyes on the enemy force, however, that raised spirit plummeted yet again, as he learned how the enemy army outnumbered theirs by more than two to one. Those were not good odds by any means, and some pessimism started to take root in his mind once again. He was worried that his first deployment might also be his last.
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Yet the battle he dreaded never even took place.
Before his eyes, he saw how flames engulfed a large portion of the prairie before him along with the enemy army who were still making their way through it. As he watched the roaring conflagration burn for a whole day and night, he had no idea what he should think. Should he be glad by the development? Or should he be disappointed?
It was only after the fire had gone out that the platoon he was in was given their task, and it was quite a dirty one.
“I have to say that this is not the sort of work I was expecting to do as a mercenary,” he complained quietly as he shook a charred skull out of a helmet and deposited the helmet into a large sack already filled with other bits of salvaged equipment from the dead.
“Eh, I mean we’re still getting paid combat rates, without the need to risk our lives, at that!” countered Skuljd from nearby. The dwarven maiden had just torn out the ribcage and spine of a human torso from within a suit of burnt chainmail with her powerful arms. The chainmail was tossed into a similar sack as Kev’s, while the remains of the body was just tossed unceremoniously to the ground.
Respect for the dead wasn’t a big thing amongst mercenaries unless it was their own dead. Definitely not something they extended to the dead bodies they were looting though.
“Gotta say, though, never thought the boss had that sort of trick up his sleeve,” admitted Larissa who was also scrounging from salvage nearby. “Just yesterday I was still worrying on how the fuck we were supposed to deal with so many enemies and how many of us would have to lay down our lives in the process. Now they’re all just charcoal,” as if to punctuate her words, she stepped on a discarded ribcage and broke the brittle charred bones with ease.
“It was quite a sight, indeed,” affirmed Skuljd with a gravely laugh. By now their sacks were filled with tens of kilograms of charred metal bits from the weapons and armor that the enemy army wore. Most of the young mercenaries couldn’t even move it on their own, so they worked in pairs or more to shift the location of the sack as they salvaged more. Only those like Skuljd or the other non-human members with great strength could leisurely carry the weight on their own. “It’s not everyday you get to see tens of thousands of people burnt to a crisp like that.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” said Kev with a slightly green face. “I don't know if I could even eat pork anymore after that.”
It was often said that burning human flesh exuded a pork-like smell, and everyone who had been present to witness the great conflagration would testify to that. The smell of roasting pork was prevalent alongside the typical smell of smoke and char, and only started to diminish late in the night. Many amongst the militia were nauseated and vomited by the smell as they knew where it came from. Some of them even swore off pork for the rest of their lives.
Of course, that mostly affected the human members of the militia. Those from the other races – even those who were half-human – weren’t as bothered by the smell. Naturally, members of the Free Lances were barely affected since they had a much higher proportion of non-human members compared to the militia.
Some of them were even joking around about the smell when they roasted some pork by the campfire the night after the salvaging operation was finished, to the consternation of some members of the militia who were camped nearby.