An Eckstedt light infantryman gripped the hammer in his hand tightly. Breathing steadily, he knocked the thick wooden shield in his left hand rhythmically and followed the footsteps of the teammate in front of him closely.
As one of more than ten unit leaders under Liroque's military unit, he was over thirty years old and this was not his first time in the battlefield.
The men of Northland were born to wield swords and battle. It did not matter if they were farmers, hunters, craftsmen or woodcutters. Sometimes, it was so for women too.
To shed blood in the battlefield and slug it out with the most powerful enemies; the survivors would then swig the wine of victory to their heart's content. How satisfying and glorious was that?
He would get even more elated and excited each time he swung his hammer. He savored the vague sounds of cracking bones in his enemies' bodies.
