“Language always develops to match progress, so it can at times get jarring for long-lived ones who have the habit to sequester themselves for long periods of time to understand the new words, slangs, or mannerisms that would sprout during their solitary periods.” - Motocles Unionae, elven researcher, on the habits and failings of the long-lived races.
How mercenaries like the Free Lances handled their everyday chores depended a lot on the situation.
During times when they were fortunate enough to be stationed within close proximity to where their dependents and support staff lived, like on many defensive deployments, said support staff would handle the vast majority of the chores for them. Naturally, situations that allow such comforts were not too common as a whole.
Most of the time, when the mercenaries were out in the field, away from their support staff, they would usually either rotate the duties amongst themselves, or have people assigned to doing what they were good at. The former method was more commonly seen amongst newer groups where the members didn’t know each other that well yet, while older groups would usually have fixed roles while also ensuring that others could take up the role should it become necessary.
After all, you could never tell when the one guy good at cooking might croak during a battle, after all.
The Free Lances mostly subscribed to the latter method, with each platoon handling their own respective chores, and each having their own assigned group – so that no one person dying would hurt the platoon too much – at every task. In the case of Erycea’s platoon, the group that was responsible for cooking was headed by Aurora.
Mostly because she was by far the best cook of the bunch to the point that others were more than willing to do her chores on her behalf as long as she does the cooking.
“Think we’ll get to see some of the tin cans when we hit them later tonight?” asked Aurora – Rory to her friends – to Erycea while slicing up some wild vegetables the group foraged out of the forest on their way back to camp. Normally the group would try to subsist by foraging as much as they could to extend their rations, but since they were busy with the ambush that day, they hadn’t done much foraging.
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“Should depend on where we’re hitting them,” replied Erycea while deftly removing the bones off several small birds they caught on the way back. Erycea directly used her hands and claws to do so rather than any utensils, as it was easier for her to do it that way. “These northerners didn’t have many tin cans to start with, as far as I know. So we’ll have to see, I guess.”
“Beg your pardon, ma’am,” asked an unfamiliar voice from behind them. Aurora and Erycea both turned their heads to see that it was a young man dressed in clothes that wouldn’t be out of place for a hunter, likely one of the volunteers from Levain that was in the base, then. “I’ve just been wondering, but I’ve heard your folks calling knights ‘tin cans’ often and wonder what it means.”
“Oh, right, that’s something they say in Knallzog and Down Under, I guess you Levainians wouldn’t be aware of it,” replied Erycea after some thought, while Aurora turned back to the cooking as she noticed Ery handling the question. “Hmm… to explain what it means I’ll have to elaborate a bit. You’ve seen fruits or the like preserved in jars or urns before, haven’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the young man. “My little sister’s always crazy for them peaches preserved in honey.”
“Right, anyway, the big issue with that is if you got a bad urn or jar, you’re looking at spoiled food, and getting the good jars or urns can cost quite a pretty silver, ain’t that so?” asked Erycea, to which the young man nodded. “So some dwarf Down Under found a way to replace those jars and urns with something that’s both cheaper and easier to get right. They made these instead.”
As Erycea finished her words, she brought out a large tin can out of her storage pendant. The can itself was square in shape, and quite big, perhaps as large around as an adult male’s torso. No openings could be seen out of the can, which seemed to be completely enclosed from all sides.
“That’s a tin can, then?” asked the young man.
“Indeed,” said Erycea as she handed the can over to Aurora, who deftly made a hole on one corner of the thin metal can with her knife before pouring its contents – some sort of concentrated soup from the looks of it – into the cauldron. “That one’s got a soup concentrate in it, good to feed as many as a hundred, if you dilute it enough. Just got to bring your own cauldron and water.”
“They’re cheaper and easier to make than glass jars, and preserve food better than clay urns, so it’s becoming the economical option in the dwarven lands. Knallzog already adopted their use by the time I was born, I guess Levain’s missed out due to the civil war and all,” she added. “The metal’s real thin as you can see, so we can just throw it away without feeling any heartache after we use them.”
“What does that have to do with calling knights that, though?”
“Funny story, that one,” said Erycea with a toothy smirk on her face. “That originated from an old elven mercenary working for the Kingdom Down Under during the last days of the Empire. He’s one of those who likely took part in the raids when he was younger and likely ate some people along the way. He called the knights Tin Cans after he saw the dwarves bring out food from the cans. See, to him, the knights are the same thing! Food in a metal container!”
“Everyone found that comparison hilarious, and as you know, the armor human knights use are really thin compared to what dwarves use, so they took to calling human knights tin cans as well. Most of the dwarves in our group’s from Knallzog, so we also picked up the phrase from them.”