Chapter 1309 - 1227: Awakening the Behemoth
The morning mist of early spring dyed the originally green hills with a light layer of gray.
Carrying a basket full of berries, Hanske turned his head to gaze down the mountain.
He could not see the camp made up of rows of canvas and oilcloth tents, nor could he see the Holy Alliance soldiers in uniforms coming and going.
He could not distinguish up from down, left from right, as the sky poured down clouds like the sea.
All he could see were layers of mist weaved together, wrapping around his head like a sweater his sister knitted for him.
Hanske felt as if he were a fish in a mud pit, floating up and down.
Unable to reach the surface to breathe, unable to find a way out, just lost in suffocation.
Since departing from Pine Needle Village, it had been 10 days since he was rescued by the Holy Alliance Army.
During these 10 days, he was in a coma for the first three days due to heavy injuries and blood loss.
On the fourth day before, he was finally able to walk normally, and the first thing he did was return to Pine Needle Village.
But Pine Needle Village was gone, only ashes piled on the ruins, dancing with the butterflies in the wind.
Except, the butterflies would land on bright red flowers, while the ashes landed on bright red blood.
As for the villagers, they had either fled for refuge or were hiding and unwilling to come out.
He could only search through the stench, one corpse after another.
The bad news was that he didn’t find his sister or her body, unsure if it turned to ash or if she escaped.
The good news was he found his brother-in-law’s body, burned beyond recognition, only identifiable by a broken half little finger.
The home was gone, the village destroyed, the villagers left, all gone.
He was the only one left.
Hanske had nowhere to go, and in the end, it was the Holy Alliance Army that took him in, making him a small service soldier.
Being a service soldier was much more tiring than being a sentry, with endless work every day.
But Hanske didn’t feel as miserable as when he was a sentry, nor did he go hungry or get beaten.
Everyone was very friendly, and he learned new things every day.
Sometimes it’s a few words, sometimes arithmetic, and he even had a salary.
Moreover, to be honest, the food of the Holy Alliance Army was one of the few things that could temporarily make him forget his worries.
Wasn’t the Holy Alliance a country of ascetic monks? Why did the soldiers eat so lavishly?
Hanske had seen with his own eyes the demeanor of those Holy Alliance soldiers, so imposing, each like that knight.
He knew this best because he was a service soldier!
His pack contained a frying pan, a coffee pot, various spices, and even cheese.
Every morning, he would wake up to the aroma of soldiers cooking eggs and sausages in a frying pan.
They would also sprinkle a pinch of fine salt into the pan, toss in a thumb-sized pat of butter, and fry up a fragrant milky aroma.
The quartermaster would kick his butt, teaching him hand-in-hand how to fry eggs, fry sausages, and make porridge.
Making porridge was the simplest; just throw the Holy Alliance’s specially made oatmeal bar, which could smash bricks, into a big iron pot to cook.
Not long after, a pot of fresh oatmeal porridge with nuts and raisins would be ready.
At this time, the soldiers who got up would first tidy up their quarters, then take out iron funnels and small tin pots, lining them with gauze to brew coffee.
Each ten-man team had a tin of white sugar, and when drinking coffee, the soldiers would add the sugar as if it cost nothing.
Although camping in the wild, their food was no worse than that of minor aristocrats.
This was completely different from the Holy Alliance’s legendary army of ascetic monks.
But to say they were a lazy and cowardly rabble, they were not.
Hanske still remembered that day when they marched to a narrow mountain pass and encountered a group of knights.
He thought the Holy Alliance infantry would surely run away, as there wasn’t enough time to form the legendary large horizontal formation.
Caught off guard, they dared to take the initiative to charge with bayonets, counter-charging the knights in a vertical column.
Amidst this, it seemed like the Holy Alliance infantry fired a few shots, but by the time Hanske realized, the battle was already over.
Those extraordinary knights, who seemed unattainable to him, were driven off by a continuous barrage without even retaliating.
Hanske was unsure if the soldiers were all good people, as many of them were quite rough as well.
At least, so far, he finally had a place to settle down.
Despite still being on the front lines of the war, it was the most comfortable place he’d been so far.
"Pop—" Before Hanske could return to reality from his memories, he felt a pain in his butt.
Looking back, he saw Old Quartermaster Pierre, bald, supporting his waist, looking at him coldly: "Slacking off, are we? I’ve been waiting for your basket of berries; do I have to wait till tomorrow night?"
"No, no, I’m on it right away."
"Don’t think I’ll regard you any higher just because you were brought here by Vasha the Priest."
"I won’t, I won’t..."
The two spoke as they carried buckets and picked berries down the mountain, and the soldiers kept complaining about eating too much salty food and wanting something sour to whet their appetite.
Going down the small mountain, Pierre looked at the back of Hanske’s head, pondering.
After a while, he suddenly spoke: "Did you register your name?"
"No, the clerk told me to go register today; I just learned how to write my name."
"What name are you registering?"
"Hanske..."
"Do you know how many Hanskes there are in our service soldiers’ camp?" Old Pierre raised two fingers, "Fifty, not even nicknames are enough."
Admittedly, Pierre and Hanske were the two most common names in Falan and Leia.
In a village in Leia, maybe a third of the men might be called Hanske.
So, in a village, people often used nicknames to distinguish them.
But in this army camp, it’s no different from a village, just too many people, and even nicknames weren’t enough to distinguish.
"What should I do then?"
"What’s your surname, kid?"
"I don’t have a surname... In the village, they called me Sprout Hanske."
"Well, well, there are already two Sprouts, pick another one." At this, Old Pierre suddenly said, "What if you accomplish something and get mentioned in the newspaper, with so many Hanskes, how would your sister know it’s you?"
Hanske stumbled, but the muddy light in his eyes dissipated a lot: "Me, accomplish something, isn’t that impossible?"
"Why not? Many service soldiers have been promoted to regular soldiers."
"But I’m not from the Thousand River Valley, nor am I a noble."
"Fool, even though Immortal Stone Field will eventually be an independent country, the federal Shepherd Leader appoints you under the Holy Alliance."
The more he said, the brighter Hanske’s eyes grew.
Maybe when he became successful, even without a big reputation, his sister would be able to find out?
Currently, his sister was only missing; if she saw him in the newspaper or a notice, wouldn’t they reunite?
Or, speaking bigger, Hanske also had a big goal: to become a Captain Bai!
If he became a Captain Bai, how much face could he earn in front of his sister? Then, even if there was another brother-in-law, he wouldn’t dare hit her.
If his sister wanted to find a brother-in-law, she’d look for a priest, someone like Vasha the Priest would be good.
Vasha the Priest was well-educated, even a high school graduate!
"Then, then I’ll be Hanske of Pine Needle Village." Hanske scratched his head, "Hanske Forjam (from) Lana (Pine Needle)."
"Hanske Lana." Pierre nodded, "Good name..."
Hanske heard a sharp whistle; he quickly turned his head, only to see Pierre covering his bleeding ear, grimacing as he kicked Hanske’s butt.
Rolling down the slope, Pierre instantly slid down the slope from another direction.
Hiding behind a large rock, before Hanske could recover from his dizziness, he saw Pierre pulling out a pistol.
He aimed the pistol into the sky and pulled the trigger.
A signal arrow with red smoke whistled sharply into the air.
It seemed as if nothing changed, but Hanske still felt the mist stir.
Like some giant beast had awakened behind the mist.