Three bedrolls lay in the corner of the tent. A few bags were also strewn around the enclosed space, most of them filled with spare clothes or books, the remaining few contained mana cubes and food, as well as plenty of alcohol of course.
Other than the fur bedrolls and bags there was nothing else in the tent, they had only set it up yesterday so they didn't really have time to customise anything.
Out of all the items they had Bertrand considered the books to be the most important thing they had, excluding the mana cubes of course. Didn't want to go to sleep with shit still on you, Seer diarrhoea was a real issue.
It never crossed Bertrand’s mind that out of all the things he would have to face in military life, one of them would be constantly getting the shits.
“Right lad, sit over there our get our cards ready and then we can screw that prick over.” Césaire said, bottle in one hand and card pack in the other.
“Course.” Bertrand sat down uneasily on the bumpy ground, they had unfortunately drawn the short straw on where to set up their tent, quite literally in fact, It was what confirmed Bertrand’s belief in Césaire’s skill in gambling because the man certainly didn't have luck.
It was the third time in a row he had drawn the short straw in something. Though now it seemed like Bertrand was the one who drew the short straw, as Césaire leaned in and started conspiratorially whispering in his eye about their plan.
Four minutes later and with too many instructions to keep track of, Francois walked into their tent and almost like he had somehow overheard their secretive plotting, challenged them to a game of Skat.
“How in the Seer’s wisdom did you figure out we were planning to join forces against you.” Césaire questioned, visibly frustrated that his conspiracy had been uncovered.
“Uh, because we’ve been together for years.” Francois scoffed.”Of course, you were going to do something like this, now then our be the declarer, since you two already seem to have be on the same team.”
After a slight grumble about how Francois loves sheep, his go to insult. Césaire nods his head and passes them the cards, before taking a big swig out of his gin bottle and distancing himself from Bertrand a little.
They weren't allowed to communicate in this game sadly, which gave them a bit of a handicap to help even out the numerical imbalance.
There were one hundred and twenty points to get and the declarer had to get sixty one in order to win, if they failed then the defending team would win.
A tough game and one that Bertrand had little experience in. “pass the bottle?” He asks Césaire, if he was going to lose, he was going to lose drunk and happy.
With a smile, Césaire passes it over to him. “Careful, it's pretty strong.”
Ignoring their warning Bertrand takes a big gulp and almost coughs out, almost. He wasn't about to spit out any of this brilliant, endorphin inducing liquor. Not that he knew what an endorphin was, maybe Francois did. All he knew was that it meant happiness or something.
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“hey, Francois what's endorphin?”He spluttered out, while handing back the gin to Césaire
Momentary shocked, Francois pauses his card dealing and just stares at Césaire for a few seconds, before snapping out of it and going back to dealing the cards.
Finishing up dealing the cards he replies.”It's a chemical, sort of like how yeast makes alcohol, it makes you happy, just like yeast it requires some other things to work, I don’t really remember too well as it's been a while since I learned about it.”
“Thanks Francois, while I'm asking questions I've got another one, I know we get to wear casual clothing because we can be sent in to perform saboteur actions and close up scouting, but there is, well was around a hundred of us scouring the area. In a situation like that anyone who sees’s us would instantly know we’re skirmishers especially considering we’ve got our beamers on full display.” Bertrand said, his question about endorphin seemed to shock the man, maybe even scare him. So asking a more typical question would probably put him more at ease
“There's quite a few reasons, from logistical issues to the fact that being a skirmisher is quite an intense occupation so we get some passes. Skirmishers can also be confused with travellers and vice versa as well, meaning even if the enemy gets some reports of skirmishers they typically won’t send out a full alert instantly, Unlike us. Seer I've properly held more travellers at gunpoint than most bandits have at this point.” Francois said, taking a few gulps from a wine bottle he pulled out of one of the bags.
“Look guys, we’re here to play cards, not chit chat.” Césaire grunted, some of his words slurred, looks like the gin was getting to him Bertrand thought, chuckling a little.
No wonder though, already two thirds of the bottle were gone. Deciding to have a little more before it all disappeared down his gullet Bertrand pick it up from the man's side and gulped down a few mouthfuls of the fiery liquid.
It burned going down, almost like how vomit felt. Acidic was the word. Bertrand didn’t care though, acidic or not he was thirsty and eager to get drunk.
Skat was a complicated card game and there was no way he would emerge from a game with his sanity intact if he was sober.
“Bastard, give me that back.” Césaire laughed, half heartedly trying to snatch the bottle back.
He didn't have to try too hard to grab it, as Bertrand handed over the now empty bottle to him. “Haha, have a few more drinks and then we can start betting.” Césaire said, throwing the bottle into the corner of the tent.
Then gazing over at Francois, he chuckled a little, before fumbling around for a bag by his feet and pulling another gin bottle out of it, rolling it over towards their feet.
“It's only fair that you have half a bottle as well.” Césaire explained when Francois didn't pick up the bottle. “I already have a drink.” Francois tried to protest.
But Césaire just scoffed, before he could start spewing out another tall tale of how he found Francois gazing at some farmland longingly, they set aside their wine bottle and grabbed the gin, pulling out the cork and chugging it.
“Ayeee.” Césaire let out a slight cheer, with Bertrand joining in near the end with his own.”yeeeee.”
“You guys are insufferable, now lets play, I look forward to winning.” Francois said, words slightly mumbled as he wiped his lips with the sleeve of his woollen jersey.
Why they wore a woollen jersey in summer was beyond Bertrand and he didn't fancy guessing, what he did fancy though was the wine bottle. Sprawling forward on his stomach to reach it he clasps it, before sitting back up and taking a deep sip from it.
Trying to savour the flavours like he had seen Francois do. There were no flavours to be had though, it was just liquor. He couldn't taste even a hint of grape.
It didn't matter though, and with the warmth of the alcohol and from the people he was happy to call his friends beside him, the day passed by. In a blur and even though he was losing more card games than he could count, he still felt like a winner.