...
Boiling water, wheat flour, vegetables, meat, sprinkled with a pinch of salt and spices, turn into a pot of fragrant noodle soup.
Attracted by the smell, Pierre got up, and Anglu also led the draught animal back to the stable.
Bell, Berlion, Pierre, and Anglu sat around the fire. As usual, Berlion always served everyone else first.
Pierre pulled out a wooden bowl from his bag, wiped it carelessly with his clothing, and handed it to the blacksmith.
Mr. Mitchell looked around sleepily, yawned, and asked, "Where are the four of them?"
"Gone to play," the blacksmith answered curtly.
"And they haven't come back?"
"They just left this morning."
Berlion handed a bowl filled with noodle soup to Pierre, who took it and stared blankly at the fire, lost in thought.
After a while, he sighed, "They say we're militia, but what's really the difference between us and the laborers?"
"Of course, there's a difference, laborers get paid, but you don't," said Bell without looking up.
