'Did I get a bad batch?' He wondered if he should get another serving, hoping that he just got unlucky. Maybe there was some good food left in the tray. He decided to give it one more chance, wishing for a better outcome.
He finished his food quickly, despite having a large portion, and drank the juice that came with it. He prayed that the juice would cleanse his palate from the awful taste.
*Cough* *Cough*
Moriarty gagged on the juice, feeling repulsed by the drink. 'Even the drinks?' He wondered if juice could gone bad. He felt like he had sipped the liquid form of the meal, but much worse. He nearly vomited, but held it back with great effort. He set down the glass, feeling queasy and sick.
He eyed his plate and glass, feeling remorseful. He wondered how anyone could stomach this food and drink without a word. He felt like he had been poisoned.
With great hesitation, he decided to get another meal. He was not hungry anymore, but missing a tasty meal just because he was unlucky would be his true regret.
The serving counter was self-service, as if the management did not care if the soldier ate too much. At first Moriarty was glad that he could eat as much as he liked, but knowing that some of it was a trap made him pick less. He hoped that the next meal would be better than the previous one. He did not want to make the same blunder and face the same results.
There were only two dishes, a skewer and a soup. The serving counter was long, and those two dishes were placed side by side in each section. There was no variety or option in the food. It was either meat or broth, nothing else.
This time he picked a skewer where another soldier also picked, hoping that it would be a good one. He also took some soup for a change, thinking that it might be more different than the juice. He didn't take any drinks as water was not even available. He planned to sit next to the soldier, to see if he had just gotten a bad one before.
Moriarty sat down and waited for the soldier to eat his food. But he was baffled by how long the soldier took his time gazing at his food, 'Did he also get a bad one?'
When he looked closer, he realized that he wasn't just gazing but praying instead. Moriarty couldn't catch what he was saying, but he heard something about being grateful.
'The soup is already cold, he prayed too long…'
When the soldier finished praying, he ate his meal with a big grin on his face. He seemed to enjoy the food.
'Hmm… Guess it's not bad then.'
He began to eat too, as he chewed the skewer with dull eyes. He wondered, 'Why is he happy and I'm not, is it because he prayed?' The skewer tasted the same as before, as what he called a awful taste that made him want to spit it out.
He sipped the soup from the bowl, hoping that it would at least taste better than the meat. 'Hah… tastes awful too. Figures.'
'It must be the prayer…' he guessed. After all, he was in a land that people believed in gods' blessings and miracles. 'Is this how they deal with invaders? To choke them to death or something. So cruel.' Moriarty had a grim expression, not wanting to stay in the fortress any longer than necessary. He wanted to go back to his home country as soon as possible.
But he felt a sudden ache in his stomach, 'Ughh, toilet…' He stood up staggering, as his vision split and blurred. 'Where is the restroom… I don't think… I can make it.'
"PVOOTTTTTTT!!!"
A loud fart sound rang through the mess hall, making everyone turn their heads and stare at him. Nothing nasty had come out yet, but he knew that the next one would be a catastrophe if it happened.
Seeing this, two of the soldiers quickly grabbed him on each shoulder, as if they were familiar with this kind of situation. They escorted him to a restroom near the kitchen, without uttering a word or showing any emotion.
He just entered one of the cubicles, not caring about what the entire restroom looked like or if it was clean or not. He took his dump and felt a relief in his bowels.
On the other hand, walking out of the kitchen and returning to the mess hall, one of the soldiers who carried him said, "Gahhh, I'm quite envious of him…"
"You think he is a commander?" his partner asked, curious about Moriarty's rank and status.
"Nah, only lieutenants suffer from side effects. Kah, gotta eat and drink more too, I'm quite motivated." He replied and pumped his fist afterwards.
In the restroom, cubicle one.
Moriarty wiped his sweat, feeling relieved after surviving one of the most intense trials of his life. He had never felt such a pain and pressure in his stomach before.
As he went out of the cubicle, a magic activated, cleansing anything nasty on it. The cubicle was cleaned and sanitized by a spell. He washed his face with a grin, feeling refreshed and forgetting that he wouldn't have had such a trial if it wasn't for the meal. But the refreshing feeling was so strong that it made him feel intoxicated and euphoric.
"Definitely! One of the greatest pleasures of life. Fuh… I feel like I was reborn. Ah, I never thought taking a dump would be such a big deal." He said to himself, as he admired his reflection in the mirror. He felt like he had gained a new outlook on life.
Feeling refreshed, Moriarty decided to explore the fortress with curiosity and enthusiasm. He began from the kitchen restroom, where he had splashed some water on his face earlier, and then proceeded to the entire ground floor.
He came across the white board that he had been before, where some words and posters were stuck.
He muttered to himself, "I'll come back later." He intended to return to it and devise his escape plan while observing the soldiers. He also noticed many soldiers paying close attention to a certain poster, which made him grin more.