Locke was a second-rate soldier of the Faustian Kingdom. He started his military service at the age of 14 and was now a veteran with four years of military service. He was in a good mood today because it was pay day. Second-class soldiers in the kingdom were paid three silver thalers a month. Coupled with the two silver thalers that Cardoj provided for his soldiers, he would be able to get four silver thalers. Why was it one silver thaler less? It was because the military would always take a cut of the pay given by the kingdom. It was a common practice.
He couldn't wait to get the four silver thalers and ask the baron's caravan to send three of them back to his hometown. He hoped that his sister would be able to buy a ribbon she liked and that her hair would no longer be wrapped in coarse linen. He also hoped that his parents would be able to eat white bread once or twice in the next month as their health was already very poor. Locke used the remaining silver thaler to treat his brothers to a drink. As a second-rate soldier with some strength, he was the leader of a ten-man squad.
He knew that his brothers weren't having a good time either. Third-rate soldiers only received two silver thalers a month, while the servant-soldiers only received one. They had to break their own money into copper thalers to spend. It wasn't enough to support their families and spend on their own. In order to make them more united in battle and to have a few loyal subordinates who could take a hit for him at critical moments, Locke didn't mind treating them to a meal.
His ten-man squad consisted of five third-rate soldiers and five servant-soldiers. Except for three of them who had joined the squad two months ago, the rest were brothers who had been fighting together for at least half a year. Most of them were the same age as Locke, but they were younger than him. They were all rookies who had only been in the army for a year or two. Most of them admired their squad leader from the bottom of their hearts because their brother Locke was generous and loyal. He would always bring them out for a drink after a battle, even after a battle. Most importantly, they had more or less received Locke's care in battle. A small amount of care made their squad members less and less casualties after the first battle. With each battle, the members of their squad became more and more compatible, and the survival rate of the squad became higher and higher.
He was quite famous in the barracks. Whether it was a new recruit or a veteran, as long as they were younger or similar to him, they would call him Big Brother Locke. This was a form of respect for the strong. Moreover, it was said that he had killed a lot of Shalor barbarians in the battle two months ago and had almost accumulated enough merit to become a first-rate private.
Locke walked to the supply camp. Not only did it provide soldiers with their pay, but it also served as a trading center in the camp. You could buy anything you wanted here. Fragrant ale? A sharp iron sword? A war horse with good endurance? Or a beautiful woman. There was everything here, and Cardoj was very attentive to the needs of his soldiers. But only if you have money. Or, you have the right. As a second-rate soldier, Locke's capital might have just reached the standard here, but he rarely squandered it here. It wasn't just him. In the barracks, soldiers with families and family responsibilities wouldn't come here to spend money. It wasn't because the soldiers had strong self-control, but because they couldn't afford to spend their silver Derahls lavishly.
"Hey, Locke! Here's your pay! " A burly man with a full beard threw a bag of money at Locke. Locke opened it and saw three shiny silver Derahls and a hundred copper Derahls.
"Uncle Yoshk, want to have a drink in the afternoon?" Locke said to the bearded man with a smile.
"How many times have I told you to call me platoon jarl in the barracks? You brat! You want to get rid of me with one drink? At least two! "Yoshk scolded jokingly.
Locke invited Yoshk for a drink not only to be polite, but also for his promotion. His merit was about to reach the level of a first-rate private. First-rate private was the dividing line for all soldiers. Those who reached it would be given impetus training methods by the baron, which was the path to promotion to a knight. First-rate private could at least be a platoon jarl. A veteran first-rate private like Yoshk would be directly appointed as a platoon jarl.
Yoshk didn't agree to Locke's request just to save him face. He thought that Locke was a young man with potential, and he came from the same town, Quarryton. In fact, most of them came from the same place, Cardoj's Domain. It could be said that Yoshk had given Locke a lot of help in the four years he had been in the army. He took care of him from the beginning when he was a servant soldier until he became a second-rate private today. Yoshk could also be said to have watched Locke grow up over the years. He was also willing to help this young man. This time, he was going to give Locke some pointers and guide him to get promoted to a first-rate private.
"No problem, I'll call you when the time comes!" Locke put away the bag of money and left straight away. The exquisite armor and sharp swords around him, as well as the women who were trying to sell their faces, almost made him jealous. A normal set of armour cost at least 100 Silver Derahls, which was one Gold Derahl, and a good longsword at least 10 Silver Derahls. If you spent the night with a good-looking woman, you would be embarrassed to open the door without a Silver Derahl. Locke didn't have much spare money. So far, he only had a pair of broken leather armour, a chipped but still sharp iron sword, an iron spear and a short dagger hidden in his boots.
Locke returned to his team's tent and looked at his men sitting together in twos and threes, playing cards and bragging. He was infected by the relaxed atmosphere. Locke kicked Kane, who was playing cards and shouting. This guy was the scout of the team, a third-rate private. He was a calm scout on the battlefield and a loud, carefree voice in daily life. He, Locke and Hans, the knife and shield bearer, were the closest of the three. They had been comrades for more than two years. "I'll take you guys out for drinks in the afternoon. Now go and get your lunch! Don't mess around here! "Locke said to the team.
"Hey, boss, can you stop kicking my butt? What if it's swollen the next time we scout? "Kane winked at Locke, which amused everyone in the tent.
"Don't worry if it's swollen. I'll ask the Ricky brothers to lend you some peppermint. You'll be fine the next day!" teased Yarde. He was also a third-rate private. The Ritchie brothers were a pair of famous gays in the camp. They were often asked to interrogate those tough prisoners. As for peppermint tablets, they always had them on hand to reduce swelling after certain activities. After all, they still had to fight the next day.
"Get lost, little Yarde. How dare you tease me? Be careful, I won't show you any mercy on the training field." Of course, Kane's tone was more of a joke than a reprimand.
This group of soldiers played cards, bragged, and teased each other every day. Everyone had learned how to talk well. Locke was very happy to see this because it improved their team's cohesiveness. "Enough with your glib talk. Hurry up and get your food. Don't forget to bring my share," Locke jokingly scolded his subordinates. "Kane, don't eat my meat. Otherwise, you won't have a share in the afternoon's drinks!"
"Don't, boss. No one will eat it. I'll cut whoever does! Hans, let's go! "Kane made a solemn vow before leaving.
In order to encourage the soldiers to fight bravely and fight for glory and meritorious service, a hierarchy was set up in the camp, which could be seen in the way they ate. Servants ate chestnut cakes and potato soup every meal. Third-rate private soldiers ate black bread and potato soup. Second-rate private soldiers ate wheat cakes, a piece of meat, and potato soup. As for the first-rate private soldiers, they ate white bread and meat soup in the tent in the middle of the camp with the baron and the platoon jarls. However, this wasn't something ordinary people could enjoy. Less than 15 of the 500 people in the camp could eat in the tent, including the four infantry platoon jarls and their four deputies, the cavalry platoon jarl Wyr, the platoon jarl Cardoj, his eldest son Sauron, and his butler. Locke had been looking forward to eating white bread for a long time.
It didn't take long for Locke's men to return and Kane handed him his share of lunch. "Boss, this piece of meat is so fat. Let me help you eat it," Kane said with a smile.
"Get lost. Hans and I will go to the supply camp later. Have you received your pay? Whoever wants to send money home, give it to Hans. I'll send it for you later. "Locke took his lunch, kicked Kane, and turned to his men.