By 4 p.m. most people in the camp had already woken up. Daemon got up and started rallying his men.
"Let's go drink outside the camp! This heat's unbearable, I couldn't sleep at all!" Daemon complained.
"Cheers to the boss!" his squad cheered, thrilled at the prospect of free drinks. In this kind of sweltering weather, only a mug of chilled ale could calm the fiery hearts of these grunts.
"Karlon, take the guys to the Green Palm Tavern. One mug of ale for each, and book a private room. Tell the tavern owner to put it on my tab. Hugo, you're coming with me to find Squad Leader Joshek," Daemon instructed.
"Got it, boss," both of them replied.
Daemon took Hugo with him to Joshek's tent.
"Uncle Joshek, it's drinking time!" Daemon called as soon as he stepped in, seeing that the man had probably just woken up.
"Easy, you brat, my head's still ringing from your yelling," Joshek grumbled, half-joking.
"Come on, uncle! Green Palm Tavern in Giza Town outside the camp. I've already sent someone to reserve a room," Daemon said.
"Alright, let's go," Joshek agreed, throwing on civilian clothes. "This must be Hugo, right? Kid's bulked up quite a bit."
"Yeah, Uncle. I'm feeling great these days. Taking down three Northwild savages is nothing to me now," Hugo chimed in.
"That's because this guy eats enough for two," Daemon joked. "No wonder he's built like that."
"A soldier should eat well! Look at me, see how much I can put away in a meal?" Joshek laughed. "You've got a decent build, but you're still too skinny."
Joshek wasn't too impressed with Daemon's physique. At 1.76 meters tall and around 75 kilograms, Daemon was a bit above average for most soldiers. But next to Joshek, who stood at 1.9 meters and weighed nearly 150 kilograms, Daemon seemed small. Even Hugo was 1.8 meters tall and over 100 kilograms.
The three chatted and laughed as they walked out of the camp.
Giza Town, just outside the camp, used to be part of the Kingdom of Northwild. After the Storm Kingdom broke through Felmer Gorge two months ago, Northwild lost its final natural defenses and meaningful resistance. The three main Storm Kingdom legions had split into upper, middle, and lower forces, plunging deep into the kingdom, heading straight for its capital, Audis, crushing opposition along the way.
The Eagle Legion, Daemon's group, was advancing from the south. Most of the resistance here was scattered and weak, so the Legion Commander had split the 20,000 troops into battalion-sized forces of around 500 men to capture villages and towns. For larger cities or strategic points, they'd regroup into 5,000-man divisions. The central command retained the cavalry and logistics units, about 10,000 soldiers, as the rear guard.
Giza Town was just another small settlement in southern Northwild. It had recently been ravaged by war. As they walked through the streets, charred buildings and dark-skinned beggars lined the roads. Fearful eyes darted toward Daemon and the others, clearly identifying them as Storm Kingdom soldiers from their standard-issue uniforms. War always destroyed something. Two weeks ago, Daemon's battalion had captured this place, and blood and fire had taught the survivors to accept their new rulers.
The Green Palm Tavern was run by a clever man. Rumor had it he betrayed his country even before the Storm Kingdom army arrived, selling out the town's defensive plans and personally capturing the town mayor. After offering a hefty bribe, he earned favor with Baron Kenning, the real power behind Daemon's battalion. Now, the Green Palm Tavern was likely the only business still running in town, catering exclusively to Storm Kingdom soldiers.
Why did so many soldiers drink outside the camp?
First, senior officers rarely came here. Squad leaders were about the highest rank you'd find, so grunts could drink, chat, and joke freely.
Second, it was cheap. The local currency had collapsed, and coins were now the only thing with real value. A large mug of ale cost just one Copper Penny, half the price of what you'd pay inside the camp.
And third, there were other services. With the chaos of war, many women who had nothing left turned to this tavern to make money, some willingly, others forced. In this lawless occupation zone, no one enforced morality. These women were cheaper and "fresher" than those in the camp brothels. Even strict military rules couldn't control the desires of overheated soldiers. The tavern's side business was booming, and the higher-ups simply turned a blind eye.
In war-torn Northwild, this was normal. With farmlands abandoned and no harvest to feed them, the poor had little choice but to sell their bodies and blood to survive.
When Daemon and his group entered the tavern, a wave of heat, sweat, and noise hit them immediately. The place was packed.
Daemon spotted several familiar faces and nodded in greeting. Joshek, as one of the battalion's four squad leaders with real power, got even more attention. Many of his men were here, and they greeted him respectfully. Joshek nodded back with casual authority.
"Boss, over here!" a loud shout rang out. Sure enough, Karlon and the rest of the squad had already taken up several corner tables. Judging from the untouched mugs of ale in front of them, they'd been waiting for Daemon and Joshek to arrive.
Joshek continued chatting with others while Daemon and Hugo went over to their table.
"Start drinking without me. I've got something to discuss with Squad Leader Joshek. Karlon, get a mug for Hugo too," Daemon said.
"On it, boss," Karlon replied, handing Daemon a key to the private room upstairs.
"Hugo, drink with the guys. I'm going to talk business with Uncle Joshek," Daemon said.
"Got it," Hugo nodded. He looked toward the bar and saw Karlon already carrying over a frosty mug of ale, grinning with his yellow teeth. Hugo loved his beer.
"Drink up, everyone. I'll be back soon," Daemon added as he walked toward Joshek.
"Go ahead, boss! We'll be here!" the squad chimed in.
"Uncle, let's head upstairs," Daemon said to Joshek, who was still exchanging pleasantries. Joshek nodded and turned to the others.
"I've got business to handle. Keep drinking, boys."
"Got it, Captain! See you later!"
Everyone responded with understanding. Even Daemon's casual use of "Uncle" for the squad leader had significance. It hinted at a close personal relationship, something that didn't go unnoticed. In a military full of silent rivalries, even a nickname could shift perceptions. A few nearby soldiers showed subtle changes in expression.
Daemon and Joshek walked up the stairs behind the bar. As they passed, Daemon nodded to the tavern owner, a woman named Shashi, with wavy red hair and a mature charm. She winked back flirtatiously.
What a seductive minx, Daemon thought.
Upstairs, there were five or six private rooms. Daemon found theirs with the key and opened the door.
It wasn't large, maybe 20 square meters, but cozy. A window offered a view of green hills in the distance. A table sat near the window with two sofas on either side. A modest, tasteful screen stood near the entrance, beside a small coat rack. On the table were two glass mugs and two bottles of ale, corked and stored in glass bottles, oak stoppers included.
The whole setup felt high-end. Though Daemon had only been here once before, the elegant yet practical design left a strong impression. For a man who rarely appreciated aesthetics, it felt classy.
Now this woman knows how to run a business, Daemon thought.
After entering the room, Uncle Joshek casually took off his civilian clothes and hung them on the coat rack, then sank into one of the sofas. Daemon followed suit, hanging his outerwear and sitting across from him. Both men, now down to their standard-issue military shirts, didn't rush to speak. Daemon first opened a bottle of ale, poured a full glass for Uncle Joshek, then one for himself. After clinking glasses with a satisfying clink, they each downed the first drink before getting to business.
"Not bad, you're getting more steady. Looks like you've grown a lot these past years," Uncle Joshek said first. It was surprising. To outsiders, Joshek seemed like a loud, straightforward brute with no subtlety. But here he was, praising someone for their composure. Clearly, the man was more than just his rugged appearance.
"You flatter me, Uncle Joshek. I picked it all up from watching you," Daemon said sheepishly.
"Pfft! Don't talk nonsense!" Joshek laughed. "When did I ever teach you anything like that? Do I look like that kind of guy?" he teased. The two burst out laughing together.
"Uncle, do you think I have a shot at this promotion?" Daemon asked, refilling both glasses. He couldn't hold the question back any longer.
"Daemon, I've led you since you joined the army. It's been four years now, I see you like my own son. Of course, I'll help you with this promotion," Joshek said sincerely. He genuinely liked this clever, capable young man.
"I believe in you, Uncle!" Daemon replied earnestly. He respected Joshek as a mentor and elder. "But I figure your support alone won't be enough. If there's anything else I need to do, please let me know."
"You're right, my vote alone isn't enough. I'll bring in Old Karl too. He's the vice squad leader for our unit. We've been through hell together." Joshek nodded. "You'll need to handle the rest on your own."
Old Karl had a reputation for being stern and unbending, the kind of man who didn't tolerate nonsense. But he treated his men fairly, and Daemon respected him. He seemed like a decent guy.
"Got it, Uncle. Please, tell me everything I need to know," Daemon said, ready to listen.
"There are two open squad leader spots. The ones with the authority to nominate candidates are the six infantry squad leaders and their vice squad leaders, the cavalry captain, our battalion commander, Baron Kenning, and his eldest son, the cavalry vice captain, Young Lord Solon."
Their battalion had four infantry squads and one cavalry unit. Daemon had witnessed their cavalry in action many times and had to admit: on open terrain, that unit could crush three times their number in infantry. Heavy armor, long lances, and the sheer force of charging warhorses, most foot soldiers didn't stand a chance.
"This time, the Baron and the cavalry captain won't be voting. So the actual nominators will be the six of us infantry leaders and Young Lord Solon. I've already secured you two votes. You need at least two more," Joshek explained.
"I only have a bit of rapport with the vice squad leader of First Squad. I don't know the vice of Third or the leader of Fourth, and aren't they both recovering from injuries?" Daemon asked honestly.
"Hmph. The real fights are over, and now it's time to reap the spoils. Those two couldn't even wait two weeks after getting hurt, they've already taken their squads and fresh recruits out on a little wandering," Joshek said with disdain.
"Wandering" was a euphemism in the army. It meant raiding villages still under Northwild control. "Conquering" was too generous, these were mostly sweeps. Most villages had no real defense, just a few militiamen or reckless peasants. Big ones had maybe a hundred or two; small ones had a few dozen. A squad could handle them easily.
Under Joshek's command, their squad had also gone on such raids in recent months whenever time allowed.
Their battalion's main target was towns and settlements with real resistance. Only those had merchants, rich farmers, or even nobles, people worth looting. Baron Kenning and the cavalry weren't interested in dirt-poor villages. The infantry squads were the ones chasing side profits.
Baron Kenning's trade caravans would buy up looted goods, heirloom silver bracelets, hunters' pelts, livestock like horses, cows, or donkeys. Even quality clothes and shoes were fair game for "liberation."
There was a line, though. Stealing food was off-limits, and the higher-ups enforced that strictly. But grabbing a couple chickens or ducks to improve meals? Totally normal.
Daemon, being from a rural background, had initially found such behavior dishonorable, bullying smallfolk. But after witnessing so much death and destruction, he wasn't sure what to feel anymore. He hated the enemy, but also felt guilty toward the displaced civilians. Still, he had to survive, and provide for his parents, his sister and his men. The money he'd made during those raids was how he kept sending cash home and treating his squad.
"Uncle, we haven't gone 'wandering' in almost a week. Are we moving out soon?" Daemon asked, returning to the main topic.
"Yeah, plans are already set. The Baron wants to team up with Baron Karsher from the 7th Battalion to attack Faircastle. That's why they need to fill those two squad leader slots. Plus, there aren't any more juicy villages nearby," Joshek explained.
Cities had walls and moats. A 500-man battalion couldn't take one down alone, so joint operations were common. They'd already fought three city battles in the past two months, always in cooperation with another battalion. Daemon had gained some experience. City assaults were bloody, but the loot after a successful siege made them worthwhile. On the day a city fell, soldiers were often allowed to loot freely, it was the biggest payday of all.
Baron Karsher's unit had worked with theirs twice before.
The two of them chatted as they drank. Before long, they finished the first bottle. Daemon opened the second and refilled their glasses.
Joshek took a sip, then said, "The vice squad leader of First Squad is from our hometown, Minetown. I know him well. Bring him a gift, and I'll put in a word, should be able to win his vote. As for the other three guys, I don't know them and don't get along with them either. You'll have to handle them yourself."
Even among squad leaders, there was plenty of pettiness, let alone between the grunts. Daemon was popular, but even he couldn't claim to get along with half the squad leaders in the battalion. You never truly know someone's heart, that was the truth.
"I suggest trying Young Lord Solon," Joshek added. "You two are both around 19. You might connect. If you show loyalty or give him a suitable gift, he might back you. But if he does, you'll be seen as his man from then on."
Baron Kenning had more than one son. Even though the Storm Kingdom followed primogeniture, the other sons weren't completely out of the inheritance race. From what Daemon knew, the second son was currently managing their estate back home.
"What could I possibly give that a noble would care about?" Daemon said, exasperated. "I'll figure something out."
"I knew you'd come up with something," Joshek laughed, patting Daemon's shoulder. "That's all I can do for you. The rest is up to you."
"Thanks, Uncle. I'll give it my all. Come on, let's drink to that," Daemon said, raising his glass.
Clink, they toasted again.