Along the marching route, three hundred temporarily conscripted soldiers gathered together, loosely scattered, like a group of tourists enjoying a scenic outing.
Some even used the longswords distributed to them as walking sticks. There was no formation, no marching commands.
The line stretched very, very long. Those at the front were still lazily taking steps, while those at the back had already stopped to rest their feet, organize their belongings, and some even left the group entirely to relieve themselves by the roadside or curiously look around.
They chattered and whispered, like a market gathering, their eyes filled with confusion and fear about this forced conscription.
Rather than marching, they seemed more like refugees forcibly bound together, being sent to an unwilling destination.
Or perhaps they already were?
Suleiman rode the fine steed gifted by Raymon Dayne, standing at the very front of the procession.
He looked at the chaotic scene before him and now regretted taking on this task.
Though the future was distant, he feared he might first meet the Seven Gods.
How was this an army going to reinforce Deep Valley Town? Suleiman felt like a kindergarten teacher taking a group of toddlers on a field trip.
Even now, their situation was better than yesterday.
His thoughts returned to a day earlier.
Suleiman stood in the military camp in Dai Ding City, watching the three hundred temporarily conscripted soldiers gathered together.
They were dressed in rags, holding rusty sickles, dull axes, and some even carried crude wooden sticks!
"By the… what kind of people are these?!" He took a deep breath, going from burning passion to icy cold all over, in just one day and night.
Or rather, in just a few short minutes after seeing this scene!
Lady Lauslin stood beside him, her face weary, and Maester Varde stood by her side, his expression calm.
Suleiman stood next to them, his head bowed, his shoulders trembling slightly.
It's over! He quickly brainstormed solutions in his mind.
When Suleiman looked up again, his eyes were filled with tears, and his expression was utterly heartbroken.
"My Lady, now, House Deddings is in dire straits! Though I am young, I am willing to sacrifice everything for House Deddings, just like my father and brothers!"
"Even if I die, I want to die on the path of serving My Lady and House Deddings!"
He knelt down, clutching Lady Lauslin's robe tightly, his voice choked:
"This is the only thing I, as the last of the Stinkfort Family, can do, My Lady!"
He paused, as if too choked up to speak further, his voice resolute!:
"Even if this is a certain death situation, I will die for House Deddings."
"It's just, I'm just afraid that with such a team, my death would be insignificant, but... but there's no way to complete My Lady's mission!"
Lady Lauslin looked at him, a hint of pity and sorrow flashing in her eyes.
Life is like a play, all about the acting.
"Didn't I tell you to equip them with some weapons and leather armor?!" Lady Lauslin said with a cold face, turning to look at Maester Varde.
"Maester, where is their equipment?"
"What has this child been through? Have you forgotten? We saved him from the brink of death, are we now to push him towards death with our own hands?"
Seeing the Lady of the House question him like this, Maester Varde finally lost his composure and sighed:
"I will have them ready and distributed when they depart."
The memory ended, and Suleiman pulled his thoughts back.
The reality before him was still very harsh. The cold wind slapped wildly at his face.
He had to mold them into a team that, even if they couldn't fight, could at least march and not fall apart halfway through.
I can't stand it! I can't stand it! This is a mess! It's utterly a mess!
"Lucien! Lauslin! Come here!"
Lucien and Lauslin immediately galloped their horses to Suleiman, dismounting to salute him.
Now, they wore light soldier's armor, with longswords at their waists, riding fine steeds, heads held high and chests out. Regardless, they had the aura.
Suleiman told the two to get up and mount their horses, facing the motley crew.
He shouted loudly at the crowd, using the height of his horse and the noble prestige of his status, his voice clearly reaching everyone's ears.
"I am Suleiman Foul Castle, Esquire! The commander of your force!"
A murmur rose from the crowd; some were curious, some numb, unsure what was happening.
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.
"Everyone listen! Form into squads of one hundred and fifty men! Twenty men across, six men deep! Form a square! Line up immediately!"
He pointed to Lucien and Lauslin behind him:
"Lucien! Lauslin! Form them up! Anyone who disobeys! Kill without mercy!"
Lucien and Lauslin reacted quickly, galloping their horses into the crowd, shouting loudly.
"Everyone listen! Form into squads of one hundred and fifty men! Twenty men across, six men deep! Form a square! Line up immediately!"
Suleiman rode a white horse, and though only sixteen years old, his posture was upright, his features resolute and firm, coupled with the fine steed, a black robe and cloak, and a sharp sword at his waist! He exuded an air of solemn authority!
Lucien and Lauslin rode fine steeds, longswords at their waists. Although they were once farmers, their experiences during this time had removed their former timidity, replacing it with a keen edge.
Seeing the noble lord speak, the group began to push and shove each other, each person trying to find their place. It was still very chaotic, but at least there was a semblance of a formation.
Suleiman looked at the busy Lucien and Lauslin, and the soldiers who were reluctantly beginning to line up, finally feeling a touch of relief.
Or rather, it was the first comfort he had felt in so many days.
However, his relief lasted only a few short minutes before a commotion broke out in the crowd.
Then someone was heard shouting:
"Bah! What are you?! You think you're fit to command me?"
Suleiman's gaze fell, and the center of the crowd quickly cleared out a space.
In the middle of the space stood Lucien and a burly soldier. He wore a complete leather armor and carried a longsword.
His face bore a clear look of mockery, and he was surrounded by several similarly dressed soldiers, clearly a group.
Suleiman recognized them; they were soldiers from House Deddings, a few of the Dai Ding City ruffians that Maester Varde had thrown into the ranks.
Suleiman cursed the old man inwardly. Not only did he give him shoddy equipment, but he also gave him unwanted trash, rotten fish and shrimp, black sheep!
Earlier at the Castle Darry camp, these men had been very arrogant, considering themselves superior to the conscripted farmers.
They were now very dissatisfied that Suleiman had not appointed them to command the team.
The brawny man continued to yell at Lucien:
"I'm a soldier of Dai Ding City! A soldier, do you understand?! I've fought alongside Lord Balon Dading!" At the same time, the brawny man kept brandishing the longsword in his hand.
"What are you?! Just a farmer!" The brawny man continued to shout, causing some people around to whisper.
The crowd's gaze shifted back and forth between Lucien and Suleiman. Everyone wanted to see how this noble lord would handle the matter.
After all, he had just said: anyone who disobeys! Kill without mercy!
But the crowd did not see Suleiman move. The crowd whispered and debated.
They speculated that perhaps this lord also dared not punish the soldiers of Dai Ding City, fearing to offend Lord Dading of House Deddings! Only daring to bully the conscripted farmers!
But the reason Suleiman didn't step forward to help was because he wanted to see how Lucien would handle it.
Seeing that Suleiman didn't step forward, the brawny man assumed Suleiman was wary of his status, and his attitude became even more arrogant, laughing as he loudly humiliated Lucien:
"You can't even hold a weapon steady, can you? When I was killing enemies on the battlefield, you were still digging in the dirt!"
"You want to command me! Get lost!"