The equipment arrived early in the morning in small container trucks with light-armored troop carriers.
The container trucks were imbued with spatial magic, allowing them to hold much more than they could normally carry, thus reducing the number of soldiers needed for transportation.
However, this also meant that losing even one truck would result in devastating losses.
And the armored carriers, hybrids of magic and engineering, ran on crystallized mana and could withstand attacks from elite mages.
The drawbacks? They were expensive and highly explosive when subjected to too much damage. After all, they weren't tanks.
Each squad was assigned to a troop carrier with a driver, and three squads were tasked with protecting one container truck. To avoid heavy losses over long journeys, the equipment and resources weren't transported straight to their destination.
Instead, they moved in stages, passing through multiple posts.
Nosead was just one of those waypoints. From there, Cedar's squad would be redeployed, either on smaller missions or to another city.
The morning was still young, but the chill in the air hinted that autumn was nearing its end. Winter is coming.
"Damn it, I can't feel my butt. How long do we have to keep sitting?" Lugh whimpered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"You could always get out and run alongside us if you want," Ivan teased.
"Yeah, right. And risk showing you my perfect abs?" Lugh bluffed with a grin.
"Oh, I see them now," Ivan said, pretending to examine Lugh's stomach.
"See what?" Anabelle asked curiously.
"His six abs—they're combined into one," Ivan deadpanned.
"Pwah!" Campbell burst out laughing, nearly choking on his own amusement.
Lugh glared, his face flushing as he awkwardly tried to shift away. "Doesn't anyone carry a book or something?"
"Don't you carry a book?" Cedar asked, emphasizing the word "you" with a raised eyebrow.
"To the battlefield? And risk having my precious treasure destroyed out here? No way!" Lugh exclaimed indignantly.
"Then we're doomed. Doomed to boredom!" Ivan declared dramatically.
"What about a marching song?" Rogan suggested, his tone lighthearted.
"I don't know any, and I don't want to sing. That's what old men do," Lugh complained, crossing his arms like a sulking child.
"Then we'll just have to leave you out," Ivan said, his lips curving into a sly smile. He began humming a tune before launching into song, his voice smooth and surprisingly captivating like an angel:
"Oh, we march through the morning, we march through the night,
With boots on the ground and our spirits alight!
The road is long, but we'll see it through,
For we are the brave, the restless few!"
The others couldn't help but join in, their voices growing louder with each verse:
"Left, right, left, don't you fall behind,
We'll carry the load, through storm or shine!
Left, right, left, sing it loud and true,
For we are the brave, the restless few!"
Even Lugh eventually gave in, mumbling along with a sheepish grin.
Their singing was terrible and uncoordinated; half of them knew only fragments of the lyrics and made up their own. But that was hardly a problem. The fact that they all sang poorly gave them confidence to sing together.
"Come on! You can't let me carry this weight alone. How about you lead the next verse?"
"Alright, alright!" Lugh finally exclaimed, raising his voice above the din. "I'll give it a try. But only if you promise to sound worse than me!" The others laughed, and Ivan encouraged him.
With a deep breath, Lugh sat up a little straighter and attempted to recall the next lines. He stumbled over a few words, but the other soldiers rallied around him, harmonizing poorly yet enthusiastically.
The sound of their voices filled the troop carrier, cutting through the chilly morning air.
The convoy rolled into a small village nestled in a shallow valley, its modest wooden houses exhaling faint trails of smoke into the crisp autumn air. The streets were narrow, lined with cobblestones that made the armored carriers and container trucks jolt and sway as they navigated through. Villagers peered out from windows and doorways, their faces a mixture of curiosity and weariness. For many, this was the first time they had seen such a display of military might."Looks like a sleepy place," Lugh muttered, craning his neck to observe the surroundings. "I bet they don't even have a decent inn."
"You'd be surprised," Ivan replied, his tone light but his eyes scanning the village with practiced caution. "Small places like this tend to have the best bread and ale—simple, but good."
"Bread and ale? You sound like an old man," Anabelle teased, leaning back against the side of the troop carrier.
"Well, you don't think we could get drunk on duty now, do you?" Ivan shot back.
"Reasonable enough," she agreed.
The convoy came to a halt near the village square, where a modest well stood at its center. Captain Orlan, the commanding officer, barked out orders for the soldiers to disembark and begin setting up a temporary perimeter.
Cedar's squad and the rest of the troops filed out, stretching their stiff limbs and breathing in the cool air.
The village elder, a stooped man with a cane, approached cautiously, flanked by a few younger men who appeared more apprehensive than bold.
"Welcome to Faers Hollow, Captain," the elder greeted, his voice trembling slightly yet filled with respect. "It's an honor to host the Union's forces. Please let us know how we may assist you."
Captain Orlan gave a curt nod. "Thank you, Elder. We'll be staying for the night to rest the men and resupply. Your cooperation is appreciated."
The elder bowed and gestured for the soldiers to use the square and the surrounding area as they saw fit.
Soon, the village bustled with activity as soldiers set up tents, inspected their equipment, and began patrols around the perimeter. Some villagers brought out bread, cheese, and other provisions, shyly offering them to the soldiers. In return, a few soldiers shared stories or coins, their laughter mingling with the crackle of small fires.
"This bread's not bad," Lugh admitted, chewing thoughtfully as he leaned against a stack of crates. "It could use some salt, though."
"You complain too much," Anabelle said, rolling her eyes. She was sitting cross-legged nearby, sharpening her blade with practiced precision. "It's better than ration packs. Enjoy it while you can."
"Yeah, who even eats bread without salt?" Ivan exclaimed.
"I do! I eat everything with salt. Without it, everything is just bland and flavorless," Lugh replied.
Cedar sat apart from the group, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. Ivan approached, handing him a chunk of bread and a flask of water.
"Still at it?" Ivan asked, glancing at Cedar's distant expression.
Cedar tore his eyes away from the horizon, accepting the bread and water with a small nod. "Yeah. Still trying to make that passive training method work."
Ivan raised an eyebrow, crouching down beside him. "Len's spiral technique, right? Any progress?"
Cedar let out a frustrated sigh. "A little. It's easy enough to form the spiral while I'm focusing, but it falls apart the moment I let my mind wander. I'm supposed to automate the process, but every time I get close, it slips away."
The spiral technique Len had taught him was a method to train passively by forming a constant swirl of mana within the core, allowing it to refine itself even during mundane activities—or in Cedar's case, even while eating or sleeping.
However, it required a delicate balance of focus and detachment that bordered on maddening.
The problem wasn't forming the spiral itself—he could do that. The challenge lay in making it self-sustaining, so Cedar wouldn't have to consciously maintain it. Every distraction caused the fragile construct to unravel, forcing him to start over.
"It's a pain, but once I get it, I'll be able to train anywhere—meals, sleep, even while dodging bullets." Cedar took a bite of the bread, chewing quickly before downing some water. "I'm close. I can feel it. But the damn thing falls apart every time."
"Sounds grueling," Ivan said, leaning back against the crates. "But hey, you'll figure it out eventually. Len wouldn't give you an impossible task, would he?"
Cedar smirked faintly at that, finishing the last of his bread. "Let's hope you're right. Otherwise, I'll have wasted a lot of energy just to stay exactly where I started."
"Well, try not to let it drive you insane. We've still got a job to do, and I'd rather not explain to the captain and the ohers why you're sitting in a corner muttering and mumbling about mana spirals while we're under fire."
Cedar chuckled lightly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Fair point."
The faint laughter and chatter from the rest of the group carried over, mixing with the distant sounds of the village—a dog barking, the rustle of wind through the trees.