After weeks on force march, the cloudy and dreary day was truly a joy to have. With irregular streams of sunshine beating down upon his back with so little heat he hardly noticed it.
What he did notice was the glares Césaire and Francois were shooting each other, both almost as scorching as the sun they had a few days ago.
Shaking his head a little disappointedly, Francois lets out a regretful sigh. “How saddening that our our educational standards have fallen so far.”
Césaire practically bristling at the insult snarled back some derogatory’s about Francois’s village and their close relationship with sheep and a whole new cursing and shouting match erupted between the two.
For his part Bertrand stayed silent, biting his tongue about how both of them would probably sleep with sheep.
The two men certainly looked like they would, with wild looks in their eyes and unkempt beards. It was supposed to help them blend in if the need arose, after all a Skirmasher was meant to be a mix between a spy and a scout with a bit of Grenadier mixed in. Rather than the blue coat and white trousers of just about every other role in the military, they wore plain and comfortable clothing.
It was the most important role in the army, he had signed up to keep his fellow soldiers safe and scout the way for them, maybe pick off a few overextended enemy forces along the way.
Not to listen to two idiots bicker like they were children on some outing. Unable to bite his tongue anymore he decided to ignore military etiquette and interrupt despite his low rank.
“We’re meant to be keeping a look out for traps, not bickering over who's the biggest lover of sheep or cattle.” With a horse voice from lack of water, he hardly recognised himself when he spoke and given the wide eyes of his team, they were just as surprised as him.
“They grow up so fast.” Césaire jeered, recovering from his surprise quickly. “Before we know it your have a farm of your own haha.”
“Nah, this lads got aspirations to be a runner, would make a fine one too considering his lack of tact.” Francois chuckled, eyebrow raised. His squabble with Césaire forgotten in his joy to poke fun at a new recruit no doubt.
“My aspiration is to keep people safe. Not to deliver messages. Can we please focus on our job, it's what we’re getting paid for.” He weakly muttered, adding on the last part about money to get their concentration back on task.
“Hmmpff, true we do get paid quite a hefty sum. Could always be more though right Francois.” Césaire said, elbowing Francois in the side, making the shorter man wince in momentary pain.
“Holy Seer, you need some meat on your bones, where does your money go if not for good food?” He groaned out rubbing at his side.
Bertrand shuddered a little, it looked like Francois got nailed right in the kidney, an experience that was never pleasant. Especially when done by someone as bony as Césaire, it’s like the man was almost entirely a skeleton with just a few muscles to keep it moving.
“Pff, gambling obviously, gambling and good wine.” Césaire replied, looking incredibly wistful, as he scratched at his ragged beard ponderously. “Actually do you two want a game later?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Thankful that Césaire hadn't pulled out a pack of cards right there and then Bertrand nodded his head to placate the man, maybe if he had something to look forward to he would focus more on looking out for ambushes.
A bit surprising was the fact Francois nodded his head too, Bertrand hadn't taken him for a gambler. Then again you didn't have to be a gambler to enjoy cards with friends?
He could only assume they were despite any signs of affection for each other because if those words were said to anyone in his village someone would be getting a broken nose at the very least well the other guy would get a fractured knuckle.
“Tell you what Césaire, the night seems quite far away so how about we do a gamble right here and now?”
“Go on.” Césaire says, Squinting his eyes at Francois as if to see through whatever it was he was planning.
“I bet you five crowns that this was done by Gaulion.” Francois smirked, supremely confident in the fact that Césaire wouldn't back away from a bet and that his guess was right.
“Hmm, Fine I bet you it’s saboteurs, they drug the water supply in various villages and before the locals figured out what was going on they had already turned crazy either from the drugs or withdrawal symptoms as the drugs dissolved and faded away from the water.” Césaire grins back, also supremely confident in their prediction.
It was shocking Bertrand hadn't thought the bony blonde haired skirmisher stupid but he wasn't at all prepared for such a well thought out guess. Maybe Césaire was actually right.
“Ah, maybe, maybe but my money still rests on Gaulion being at fault. How about you Bertrand, you going to place a bet?” Francois asked, confidence slightly eroded.
“No thanks, monthly salary’s only one crown so our pass.” Bertrand coughed out, Holy Seer these men were mad, that was almost half a year's worth of his wages.
“Haha look at this prude, one second going off at us about needing to pay attention for traps the next they're listening to us bet like a kid listening to his pah speak.” Césaire chuckled out, once again trying to elbow Francois in the ribs but the muscular man deftly avoids his blow.
“You’re both bone buttoned after all, I just want to make sure we don’t fall into some sort of ambush, two regiments' worth of men have already been lost apparently.”
A bit taken back by Bertrand’s honest answer, Césaire scratches the back of his neck in slight embarrassment. Well Francois instead looks grim, confidence fading and replaced by caution, Muttering. “Three.”
“What?” Bertrand asked, puzzled.
“We’ve lost three regiments worth of soldiers and last I heard a task force of actual mages went missing. Two legions arent being sent here to guarantee what's happening, two legions are being sent because they are the minimum of what's required to discern the danger.” Francois explained, his bleak attitude even affecting Césaire who looked ever so slightly less fidgety.
“Not to worry though, like the recruit said we’re both bone buttoned, not to mention there roughly a hundred of us spread out over this whole area.” Césaire assured Francois, slapping him on the shoulder well sweeping his other hand around them.
“Still doesn't this mean we need to pay even more attention.” Bertrand hesitantly asked, a slight hint of panic infecting his tone.
Rolling his eyes Césaire let out a loud sigh, before even bothering to reply. “We’re in the bottom centre of our formation, our job isn't to find traps or ambushes, it's to run to wherever there's screaming and the sound of fighting. We’re a response force currently, why else would we be walking along a road.”
Then as if the Holy Seer had predicted the perfect event to screw with them, screaming and cursing shattered the tranquil peace of the drowsy day.
And for the first time since meeting and being assigned to this unit thirteen days ago, Bertrand watched Césaire finally show a hint of something beyond arrogance or amusement, he saw fear reflected clearly in the bony man's greenish eyes.