Chapter 48

Hawk pointed behind him, his gaze fixing on the lone goblin still bound to the tree, the sole survivor from the earlier skirmish. "What do you want to do with that one then, decanus?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Barnes turned his head towards the goblin, considering the options. After a moment, he made a decision. "We bring it back," he said simply, his voice firm and resolute. "Evidence."

With that, Barnes began to issue orders. "Alright, everyone, prepare to leave. Pack up your gear."

The group moved with practiced efficiency. Hawk and Bull secured their weapons, while Rook checked the bindings on the captured goblin. Sarge made sure the area was clear, his eyes scanning the perimeter with wariness. Alex, still trembling but more composed than before, wiped the blood from his hands and face, glancing occasionally at John as if seeking reassurance.

Once everyone was ready, Barnes gave the final order. "Burn the bodies."

Alex and John stood side by side, watched as Sarge and Bull gathered the fallen goblins into a pile. Rook and Hawk retrieved dry branches and leaves to use as kindling. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest.

"Why do we have to burn them?" Alex asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Barnes turned to the two recruits, his expression serious. "It's necessary. The smell of blood can attract predators, scavengers, or worse—other monsters. We need to ensure our safety by eliminating any potential threats. Burning the bodies is the best way to do that."

John nodded inwardly, recognizing the wisdom in Barnes' words. It was a lesson he had learned early in his training: leave no trace, eliminate all risks. It was a principle that had been drilled into him by the Order, one that had saved his life countless times.

Soon the flames began to consume the goblin corpses, crackling and spitting sparks into the air, it was almost like a cleansing act, a way to erase the chaos and violence of the past hour. The fire danced and flickered, casting long shadows across the clearing, and for a moment, John allowed himself to be mesmerized by the sight.

Barnes' voice broke through his reverie. "Let's move out. We need to get back to camp before nightfall."

…

The return to camp was uneventful, with Hawk leading the group. His expertise in finding the safest path was evident, though John couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about him. Hawk's movements, the way he spoke, his demeanor, and especially his slight limp, all suggested a story that John was keen to uncover eventually.

Back at the camp, everyone settled into a relaxed state after the long patrol. Barnes and Rook took the captured goblin for reporting, leaving the rest to their own devices.

John lay down on his assigned bed, glancing around the tent. Alex was next to him, visibly lost in thought, probably replaying the earlier events in his mind. John observed him for a moment, noting the signs of lingering fear mixed with a newfound determination.

Mouse, on the other hand, was fast asleep on John's left. His earlier actions had been erratic and puzzling to John, but he found little interest in understanding them. Mouse was a variable in the equation that didn’t seem worth solving.

The sounds of the camp filled the air—crackling fires, murmured conversations, and the occasional laughter from those outside. He listened to these sounds, feeling an odd sense of calm despite his surroundings.

John was staring at the ceiling of the tent, lost in his thoughts, when Alex's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "Hey John," Alex called out softly, breaking the silence.

John turned his head to look at Alex, who was still clearly troubled by the earlier events. "Yeah?" John responded, his tone neutral but attentive.

"What happened before...deep in the forest?" Alex hesitated, his voice shaky. "Before all of this... How did we..." He struggled to find the right words.

"End up near the camp?" he finally finished, his eyes doubtful, searching for answers.

John stared at Alex for a few moments, pondering his response. He decided to manipulate the truth to suit his needs. "You don't remember?" John asked, feigning concern and surprise.

Alex shook his head slowly, confusion etched on his face. "No... I don't," he admitted, uncertainty seeping into his voice.

John sighed, crafting his lie carefully. "We ran back to camp because..." He trailed off, pretending to think. "Something was chasing us, remember?" he said, his face a mask of sincerity.

Alex's brows furrowed as he tried to recall the nonexistent memory. "Something was chasing us?" he repeated, doubt lacing his words.

"Yeah," John continued, his voice steady. "We were setting up camp for the night when I heard something. It was big and moving fast. I barely had time to put out the fire before it was on us."

Alex's eyes widened slightly, fear creeping back into them. "I don't remember any of that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

John nodded, maintaining his fabricated story. "Maybe it’s because I knocked you out when you started to panic. After all, it was the only way to keep you quiet and hidden," he explained.

"After that, I dragged you back to camp. There was a skirmish,” he glossed over.

“But we managed to stay hidden until it was over. Later things got out of hand, but we survived in the end."

Alex seemed hesitant to accept the story, "Why? I don’t understand" he asked, more to himself than to John.

"It’s probably just the shock and the hit to your head," John said, his voice reassuring. "It's not uncommon to forget things when you're that scared."

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Alex nodded slowly, digesting the information. "I see…." he said quietly. "For saving me…thanks.."

John gave a small, tight-lipped smile. "Don't mention it," he said. "It’s part of being human right?"

“Yeah…I-I…right..” Alex intoned, he felt something amiss, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

John turned his gaze back to the ceiling, the corners of his mouth curving evermore into a subtle, genuine smile.

“People…” he muttered inwardly.

Later, Barnes and Rook returned to the camp carrying a large sack of provisions. The group gathered around the campfire as Barnes began distributing the food with practiced ease, the smell of hot gruel wafting through the air. "Eat up, grunts," Barnes called out, a grin spreading across his face. "We made the boss happy this time around."

The campfire crackled, casting flickering shadows on the faces of the soldiers as they took their bowls and began to eat. Barnes ladled out a portion of the steaming gruel from the pot and handed it to each soldier, his cheerful demeanor infectious.

"How much contribution points did we get this time?" Hawk asked from the side, taking a bite of his food.

"We... got 40... this time 'round," Barnes replied between mouthfuls of gruel.

"Oh wow, boss, that sure is a lot," Hawk said, rolling his eyes in mock enthusiasm.

"Oh, cheer up, Hawk, it's better than nothing," Rook chimed in, slapping Hawk on the back with a hearty laugh.

“Fucker! Keep your fat fingers to yourself, dumbass," Hawk grumbled, glaring at Rook.

"Yeah, yeah, do something, limpy," Rook scoffed, slurping his bowl of gruel noisily.

"Oi, oi! Calm down, you two," Barnes said, waving his spoon at them. "No need to fight over food, there's plenty for everyone."

John sat by the fire, observing the banter with a faint smile.

Alex, sitting next to him, seemed to have recovered somewhat from the earlier ordeal. He ate his food quietly, glancing occasionally at Sarge as if seeking something.

Barnes noticed Alex’s quiet awkwardness and decided to offer some encouragement. "You did good out there," he said, patting Alex on the shoulder.

"First time's always the hardest."

Alex looked up, surprised by the kind words. "Thanks," he muttered, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"And don't take Sarge's words to heart," Barnes continued, his tone more serious. "He's blunt about things he's passionate about, so don't get your pants twisted. He just wants to see you get stronger."

Sarge, who was sitting nearby, listened in but didn't react. His expression remained stern and indifferent, making it clear he wasn't one to coddle recruits. Alex glanced at Sarge, who didn’t even bother to look his way

"Yeah, thanks," Alex repeated, a bit more confidently this time. He took a deep breath and focused on his food, trying to shake off the earlier events.

Barnes slapped him on the back before starting to dish out stories of their past exploits, his booming laughter filled the night air. "Remember that time we took down those shitty bandits near the river? Now that was a haul!" he exclaimed, and the group erupted in laughter, each adding their own embellishments to the tale.

John leaned back, taking in the scene; the warmth of the fire, the laughter, and the easy atmosphere that were almost foreign to him. In particular, he stared at Barnes with an amused expression.

He carefully analyzed the way he controlled the group with his stories and laughter. There was a reason why this man was the leader of this group of men.

621 quickly realized that Barnes had an innate ability to defuse tensions, to lighten the mood when necessary, and to make things work smoothly despite the diverse personalities in the group. He balanced authority and camaraderie with a deft touch.

"What an interesting man," John commented inwardly, his thoughts layered with a mixture of admiration and inspiration.

Barnes' storytelling continued to flow, seamlessly blending humor and camaraderie. "And then, the idiot tried to swing at me with a broken bottle," Barnes said, chuckling.

"I just ducked and let him knock himself out on the doorframe while I took his woman!"

The men around the campfire burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the cool night air. Even Sarge, usually stern and reserved, allowed a slight smile to crack his stoic demeanor.

"Hey, Barnes," Rook called out, a sly grin on his face. "Remember when Bull tried to impress that barmaid in Finglas?"

Barnes' eyes lit up with amusement. "Oh, do I! The poor girl looked like she was trying to escape from a damn bear!"

The group roared with laughter, and Bull, unbothered by the teasing, simply shrugged and joined in. "She couldn't resist the charm for long, though, had her screaming for more by the end of the night" Rook added, winking, which only fueled the laughter further.

As the banter eased, Hawk turned to Barnes with a curious expression. "What of the goblin?" he asked, pausing to burp loudly. "What did the higher-ups say?"

Barnes chuckled at the question, taking it with a jest. "They locked the poor thing in a cage, just like that time in Drogas," he replied, jabbing Rook's ribs playfully. Rook laughed in remembrance, shaking his head at the shared memory.

"Said something about lack of men," Barnes continued, his tone carrying an insinuation that seemed to answer Hawk's next untold question. "What a damn shame, huh?" Hawk's eyes gleamed with mischief as he stared at the two recruits, John and Alex, with a treacherous smile.

Barnes followed Hawk's line of sight and shook his head. "They don't need more trauma, maybe next time," he scoffed.

"By the way, I hear a Centuria from the hounds is coming here tomorrow morning. Heard from Connor earlier," Barnes said, changing the topic with a hint of seriousness.

"Hounds? The what now?" Rook leaned back, scraping his teeth with a pick.

"Faelius Hounds," Barnes clarified.

"Oh, those fuckers," Rook commented, his voice dripping with disdain. "A fit name for fucking dogs."

"Ey, ey, careful now...the famous Captain Lick'er'boots might hear you saying that," Barnes warned with a smirk.

"Wait, really?" Hawk chimed in, his interest piqued. "That one is leading the Centuria?"

Barnes nodded. "Yep, sure enough, the bastard himself."

Hawk whistled in surprise. "Wow, we got a celebrity on the way," he scoffed in exaggeration.

"The Hero of Ekoce! The Liberator! The panty dropper! Marcus Cornelius," Hawk praised sarcastically, his voice dripping with disdain. "Give me a damn break, fellas," he added, shaking his head.

621 perked his ears upon the mention of his sole target.

Barnes, sitting nearby, frowned slightly but let Hawk’s snide slide by. "Oi, come down, man. I'm serious," he warned him.

"Yeah, whatever you say" Hawk shot back, pouring himself a drink. He downed it in one gulp, his face flushed from the alcohol.

"Anyways, they're the designated reinforcements, I'm told", Barnes added.

"Only a single Centuria?" Sarge, who had been silently brooding on the side, quipped, his frustration evident.

"Unfortunately so," Barnes answered, his tone resigned.

"That's nowhere near enough," Sarge said, his voice rising. "Did they see the number of Neros last night? There were at least five Centurias knocking down the damn walls."

"What a fucking shambles," Sarge cursed, spitting on the ground in disgust.

"Relax, old man," Barnes said, trying to calm him down. "There has to be a reason why they're only sending one. And don't forget that we still have Lord Emissary Kizinger."

Sarge's reaction to the name was immediate and visceral. He spat again, his face twisting in a grimace of distaste. The name seemed to stir something deep and unpleasant within him, a disdain that was palpable.

"Heh," Barnes chuckled, amused by Sarge's reaction as he drank from his mug. "You never could stand him, could you?"

"How could he not?" Hawk said, glancing at Sarge’s disdainful expression. "Our dear emissary thinks of himself as the son of God. The lot of them don’t see us as equals."

Hawk's voice was quiet, but it carried enough weight for everyone in the tent to hear. The statement hung in the air, heavy with the shared resentment of men who knew their worth and felt the sting of disrespect.

"But, you didn't hear that from me," Hawk added quickly, shutting his mouth as if to distance himself from the dangerous topic of criticizing Kizinger.

Silence ensued, a silence that felt almost like a tacit approval of Hawk’s comment. The crackling of the campfire and the distant sounds of the night were the only noises that filled the void.

John watched the exchange with keen interest, noting the tension that had crept back into the group. Sarge's scowl deepened, his fingers tapping a rhythmic pattern on his knee, a habit that betrayed his irritation.

"Wow, look at the time," Barnes finally said, breaking the silence. His tone was measured, careful. "Keep your opinions to yourselves when the Centuria arrives, you damn imbeciles.”

“We don't need any unnecessary trouble."

Hawk nodded, "Aye, aye, boss! I’ll have my mouth shut and my pants zipped right up my ass crack"

Sarge remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the fire. He seemed lost in thought, perhaps reliving past encounters with the emissary that had solidified his disdain.