Scar looked around. It was almost completely dark. A few tiny, miraculously lit campfires provided little light and even less warmth. The insects were starting to become a nuisance.

  “Order the camp to be set up,” said Shriek, standing nearby.

  “I’ll order it, and they’ll return and demand we march immediately.”

  “Even if they return, they won’t drag us through these damn swamps in the dark.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Shriek clenched his fists, irritated by Scar’s stubbornness. He glanced slightly to the side. Gadabout was approaching. Maybe he had some information about the Commander, and if not, maybe he could talk some sense into this idiot and convince him to set up camp.

  “What are you doing, motherfuckers?” asked Gadabout, stopping next to the other two.

  “I’m telling him to order the camp set up,” Shriek growled.

  “When is the Commander supposed to return?” Gadabout turned to Scar.

  “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me.”

  “Did he tell us to stay ready?”

  “No.”

  “Did he tell us to set up camp?”

  “No.”Shriek looked expectantly, but Gadabout just shrugged.

  “I’d keep waiting. If he returns, he might order us to move out immediately.”

  “Through the swamps?!” Shriek couldn’t help but raise his voice. “Through the fucking swamps at night?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To Quiet Town, apparently,” Scar replied.

  “Through here?!” Gadabout asked in disbelief.

  “Yes,” Scar assured him reluctantly.

  “Maybe it’s some kind of shortcut,” Shriek muttered quietly.

  “A shortcut like I have a cunt” Scar growled.

  “You have a cunt, and I didn’t know about it?” Gadabout grinned stupidly, then walked away as if nothing had happened.

  Scar looked at Shriek, but before the other could speak, the first man gestured what he’d do to him if he said another word. The message was clear and sufficient. Shriek walked off without a word to one of the campfires. Scar stood there for a few more long minutes, hoping, even quietly praying, that the Commander would finally emerge from among the trees and tell them what to do. The sky was getting darker with each passing moment. It really would be better if they could set up this damn camp.

  Dreamer curled up as tightly as he could. The cold had already seeped through his clothes. He was shivering all over and having trouble catching his breath. The second recruit, whose new name he couldn’t remember, approached him, handing him a cup of warm wine. Dreamer accepted it with immense gratitude. He took the first sip slowly. It burned, but it was bearable, and the warmth spreading through his insides was almost indescribable. A wonderful feeling, one of a kind!

  “Thanks,” he whispered, still curled up.

  The recruit sat down beside him and hesitantly put an arm around him. Dreamer was about to push him away when it dawned on him that the other was also shivering.

  “I’d... rather... be maaaaarching...” he said with difficulty.

  “Me... too,” the other replied, barely controlling his blue lips.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  One of the older soldiers looked at them with a stupid smile but said nothing. Instead, he pulled the hood of his heavy leather coat tighter. Dreamer envied him so much that he almost hated him for owning such a magnificent thing. If only he were home now... This is what Grandpa was talking about, he thought, not regretting his decision. He spoke of the cold and hardship one would never experience at home. But it’s nothing. He’ll endure it! He’ll become a legend like Grandpa himself.

  Scar looked at the sky.

  “K’tche nail nos,” he whispered a curse in his native language, which he hadn’t used in years.The words felt strange on his tongue. As if his mind remembered, but his body had forgotten how to accent, how to pronounce. He didn’t dwell on it too much. He wasn’t in a hurry to return to his homeland, so why should he care about pronunciation? He had more important things on his mind. Like taking care of his men. He looked at the sky again. If he gave the damn order, Commander would return and make everyone move. No doubt. On the other hand, it was getting late. If the Commander returned and found out the men had spent half the night without tents and hadn’t caught even a bit of sleep, with a day of marching ahead...

  “Fuck it,” he growled, then shouted louder: “Listen up, sons of whores and other men’s husbands! We’re probably not moving anywhere today, so set up the...”

  He stopped mid-sentence because he noticed movement in the nearby bushes.

  “I knew it,” he said angrily, then shook his head.

  The guards immediately jumped up, reaching for their weapons. A moment later, they lowered their hands. A massive horse’s head appeared first, and that was enough for them. That beast was unmistakable. They saluted, quickly stepping aside.

  Scar walked towards the Commander. He wasn’t surprised to see the man following him. This was their new medic. He didn’t look special, but he didn’t need to as long as he could heal their wounds.

  “Orders?” he asked, approaching the massive horse and saluting the rider.

  “We’re moving out,” the Commander replied.

  I knew it, Scar thought, turning on his heel and already barking orders. The soldiers—cursing everything under the sun—started gathering their things and preparing to march. It didn’t take long. Probably everyone except the recruits had been expecting this.

  “Scum, put out the fires!” Scar shouted, making sure everything went even smoother.

  “Put them fucking out yourself, dick! It’s raining anyway!”

  “Take out the demon flames from the middle! That shit doesn’t grow on trees!” Gadabout shouted angrily.

  Scum blinked, then accepted what he’d just heard and ran to the fires, carefully removing the specially enchanted stones that allowed the fire to burn even in the rain. He managed it quickly, but still got a punch in the gut from Scar for backtalk.

  “Don not forget who I am.”

  “Son of a sheep and a sheepfucker,” Scum growled, then saluted with difficulty, saying: “And second only to Skin. I drank a bit too much.”

  “Should’ve said so right away,” Scar replied with a smile, this time hitting him so hard that Scout vomited everything he’d consumed that evening. “That should help.”

  Two others approached Scout. They gave him a moment, then grabbed him under the arms and forced him to stand. The makeshift camp was packed up, and the men were ready to move. Skin approached Scar.

  “Follow the Commander,” she said simply.

  He nodded.

  “One after another, nice and neat, we’re fucking hopping behind the Commander, got it?! No fucking detours! We’re not fishing out any cocks, not stopping for any swamp lovers! I’m cold and want to dry off by a proper fire, so I’ll cut off your dicks for any delays, got it?! Our glorious procession is closed by Gadabout. He’ll let me know who needs their knives sharpened! Now move, you dog fuckers! Faster!”

  The voices of discontent didn’t ring out as loudly as Scar had expected. Maybe because anything was better than sitting in that clearing, or maybe because of the Commander’s watchful gaze. Regardless of the reasons, the company moved out, and that was all that mattered.

  ***

  26th Day of Summer, 9132, Unic Measure. Near the Bloody Meadows, Laref

  The march was tough, but after an hour, the rain stopped, and after two, they finally left the forest. By noon, the camp was properly set up, and most were already asleep. Scar, as usual, walked around to check how things were. They were soaked, frozen, bitten by insects, but it wasn’t bad. The veterans were already seasoned in this kind of sightseeing. The others were young and strong enough to endure. The recruits, however, fared worse. They didn’t handle their first swamp visit well.

  “It’s bad,” said the medic, coming out of their tent, confirming Scar’s suspicions. “They already have a high fever. They won’t be fit to march tomorrow. I gave them a strengthening brew and some herbs to chew, but I’m not making any promises.”

  “Can’t you do anything else?”

  “Against this? Not really. If they don’t improve by tomorrow morning, by evening they’ll have all the symptoms of bloody fever.”

  Scar cursed ugly. The medic just shrugged and went to sleep in his tent. The soldier watched him go, then looked at the Commander’s tent and finally at the outline of the city walls about five hours’ calm march away. Quiet Town.

  “The bastard actually knew a shortcut,” Shriek whispered quietly, handing Scar a bottle.

  “And made us march through the night,” Scar growled. “Good thing I didn’t order the camp set up.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah? That’s all?”

  “Yeah, not my problem,” Shriek replied, heading to his tent.

  Scar, tired, rubbed his face with his hands. He could use a solid bath and some proper fucking. Maybe when they reached Quiet Town... He looked longingly at the distant buildings. Maybe, he thought, finally heading to his own tent.