Caution, fear, anxiety, weariness. Such emotions were contained in a medium sized room. Pale cloths remained folded on the untouched bed, and a dim ray of light shone through the window covering. Though darkness was all that could be seen, several balls of an unknown substance lit the room in a soft white-blue hue.
Standing in a messy semi-circle were the remaining men of Taskforce Spare. Though there was no need for such a title, they were just ordinary men apart of a military organization that didn't even exist anymore. In time each soldier found their place on a single bed no larger than the broad shoulders of Sergeant Malkovich.
It wasn't long before the dark light of the evening hours had set upon the Kingdom of Yondel. In these hours a small debate had broken out between the Rangers and the current topic was regarding the availability of ammunition and other supplies. Currently, a three-way divide had broken out. Captain Thompson mitigated the conversation, yet his hunger and growing headache made it hard to prevent things from getting out of hand.
"-We can't trust them with manufacturing ammunition." Corporal Richard began. "I mean-haven't you looked around; this shit is medieval!"
Sitting across from him was Sergeant Malkovich. "I understand your reasoning Richard, but if we don't approach them about our lack of supplies, there will be more dire consequences than politics." He explained while shifting on the bed uncomfortably.
As the one leading the main conversation, Simon nodded his head in affirmation as he understood what Malkovich was trying to say. "Sarge is right." He added on. "That's why it's paramount that we find some way for either the government or a local company that can produce our bullets and supplies."
Cutting into the conversation, Staff Sergeant Baker provided a question to the discussion, "Weren't they in some kind of financial trouble? How would we find a way to get the king to pay for it? Hell can we even get the money ourselves?"
The group fell silent to the question poised, and Simon shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "Look, what we need is standard ammunition; 7.62, 6.5, .45, you know the usual. If we have the kingdom supply us with at least that, we can rely on the locals to provide specialist rounds and more common supplies like food, water, and clothing."
"Specialist rounds?" Randall asked confused as he looked around the room to see everyone in a similar confused state. "Why are we trusting them anyway? It's very possible that we will be disposed of whenever we complete our "task." He asked while Thompson took out a piece of gum from his pant leg.
Standing from his seat and motioning his body like that of an artillery piece, Simon indulged the others in his thorough explanation, "Well, it's not like we have artillery batteries or air support anymore, and with the fact that the U.S or Pakistan, let alone Earth not existing anymore, it would benefitable to fill in some of our combative gaps." Done with his explanation the Private First Class provided a compromise, "Provided that the king doesn't launch an investigation into our technology, we could have the kingdom manufacture ammunition while leaving the majority of the things we need to local businesses."
Before anyone could say another word to the compromise proposed by Simon a sharp nock came from the closed wooden door. Patterson and Richard's hands snapped to their handguns sitting comfortably in their holsters, while Baker and Randall moved next to their rifles. With a loud groan the wooden door opened and gave way to a brunette petite maid. Slowly she gained the necessary courage to speak to the seven men who were glaring at her with hostile intent.
"U-um, the Princess has called for both P-patt-erson? And Randall to her quarters!" She said loudly making the men in question flinch.
The maid quietly bowed and exited the room as fast as she entered. Thompson covered his face with his hands letting out a heavy sigh.
"So, what now?" Patterson asked as he removed his hand from the holster sitting on his belt. "I'm not in favor of going out there and getting killed."
"It could be an opportunity to learn something we don't know of." Randall argued as he stood up. "It would be useful if we did Captain, otherwise we'd be no better than a hermit a the bottom of the ocean."
Thompson let out one final sigh as he stood up and massaged his temples before shutting his mouth. He felt clammy and a cold sweat ran down the side of his face as he came to a decision, "Randall, go and meet the princess. Patterson, shadow him and make sure nothing happens that won't get the both of you killed."