Chapter 141: All of Them Are Warriors
People began whispering among themselves.
“The Empire’s honor…” soone repeated in a low voice, a note of fervor in it.
Rex stood beside Ryan, his eyes shining as he clenched and unclenched his fists. In a lowered voice, he said, “The Empire’s honor… hearing that really gets the blood pumping.”
Ryan glanced at him. The firelight reflected on Rex’s face, and there really was a flush of excitent on those sharply defined features.
He had genuinely been moved by those words. Coming from the common folk and making it this far on talent alone, every opportunity the Empire had given him felt like a blessing.
To him, those words were not empty.
Around them, there were quite a few others with the sa bright-eyed look as Rex.
Several youths from the eastern territories stood together. Their voices had been loud to begin with, and now their hushed discussion was even livelier than before. One of them slapped his chest hard, apparently saying sothing about staking everything on this chance.
Their clothing was plainer than most of the others’, the leather armor worn at the edges and the boots clearly secondhand. They were probably from so small border territory, with no family backing to speak of, having pushed their way here on sheer grit alone.
But many more simply stood there in silence.
Parker and Hayden stood on the far side of the fire, their gazes resting on the flas, their expressions unchanged. Hayden stood at his side with lowered eyes, like a silent block of wood. Cassius’s words passed through their ears without stirring even the slightest movent in their brows.
Shiloya leaned against a wooden post, that faint, elusive smile still lingering at the corners of her mouth.
Vera sat on a stone not far away, the hem of her pale green clothes swaying gently in the night wind.
Not a single one of those who truly ca from the upper circles showed any sign of excitent.
Ryan withdrew his gaze. He knew why.
To the sons and daughters of Dukes and Marquises, things like the Empire’s honor or the hope of its future were nothing more than ceremonial words.
They were here for profit. They were here to seize whatever lay inside the ruins. They were here to win one more bargaining chip for the families standing behind them.
Could honor fill your stomach? Could it buy magical potions?
It could not.
So there was no reason to get excited.
Cassius stood by the fire, his gaze passing over the crowd. He took in the eager faces, the calm faces, and the expressionless ones alike.
When the murmur had quieted sowhat, he raised a hand and pressed it downward.
“That’s enough,” he said. His voice was not loud, but the crowd fell silent again.
He lifted his hand and pointed toward the larger tents deeper in the camp. “Those are your quarters. Go identify your tents in a mont and put your things down. Anything you do not need to carry into the ruins can be left here. My n will keep watch over it.”
He paused, his pale gray eyes reflecting the firelight as they swept over them all.
“You were chosen by the Empire. We soldiers stand guard at the borders for the Empire’s honor. You enter the ruins for the Empire’s future.” He raised his hand, clenched it into a fist, and struck it against his own chest. His armor gave off a heavy, muffled clang. “All of us are warriors.”
That motion was heavy and forceful, like a hamr striking an anvil.
Soone held their breath.
Cassius lowered his hand, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly—still that not-quite-smile of his.
“All right. Enough talk.” He turned and began walking toward the deeper part of the camp. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back. “Oh, right. Those supplies—tents, sleeping bags, fire starters, and the like—are all basic goods. Nothing valuable. But there are a few good things among them.”
He lifted his chin toward the larger tents.
“Magic potions. Three for each of you. Healing, antidote, and ergency use.” He paused. “And a weapon rack. Those swords and daggers on it all ca out of the Imperial workshops. Better than what you can buy outside. If you need sothing, pick it yourself. Just return it when you are done, and do not lose it.”
Soone sucked in a sharp breath.
The eastern youths’ eyes lit up even more. One of them even rose on his toes to peer toward the tents. Potions worth several hundred gold coins each were unimaginably expensive to them. When would they ever have had the chance to use such things under normal circumstances?
Rex also froze for a mont, then muttered under his breath, “Several hundred gold coins…”
Lillian glanced at him. Her lips moved as if she wanted to say sothing, but in the end, she rely turned her face away.
Cassius took in every reaction with a single glance. Finally, he said, “All right. Go find your tents first. Once you know where you are sleeping, those who want supplies can go get them. Get a good night’s rest tonight. We leave early tomorrow.”
With that, he turned and left, his deep purple cloak lifting in the night wind before vanishing among the tents.
The crowd began to move.
The eastern youths were the first to sprint toward the tent area, whispering excitedly to each other the whole way, as if they were running off to collect a reward. The others drifted apart in small groups. So cast eager looks toward the supply tents, while others made their way toward the tents at an unhurried pace.
Rex stood where he was and scratched his head. “Then… should we go find our tents first too?”
Lillian gave a quiet hum and imdiately started walking.
Landell followed her, still wearing that polished smile of his. Evans hunched his shoulders and trailed after them like a shadow that might disappear at any mont.
Ryan walked last.
As he passed the supply tent, he turned his head and glanced inside. The flap was tied open, and torches had been set into iron brackets at the entrance. Their light spilled outward, glinting off the iron bands wrapped around the wooden crates inside.
Several weapon racks stood against the wall.
Swords lay across them, spears stood upright, bows hung nearby, and a few daggers had been thrust into a wooden barrel at the side.
The sword blades carried that deep, cold tallic sheen—not the decorative dress swords favored by noble households, but weapons truly made for cutting and thrusting. The spear shafts were straight, and their heads had been sharpened to an edge, gleaming faintly in the firelight.
Ryan recognized that style of forging. It was made by repeatedly folding and hamring refined steel, producing those dense, wave-like patterns across the blade. The ordinary weapons sold in city shops, even at several dozen gold coins apiece, were just common goods.
The ones on these racks had denser patterns and thinner edges. At the very least, each would be worth several hundred gold coins.
Several hundred gold coins—enough for an ordinary family to live on for three years.
Ryan understood exactly who those weapons had been prepared for.
A truly traditional mage—the sort who could do nothing but stand far away and unleash large-scale spells like a stationary artillery piece—rarely fought alone. Most such mages went to war with the army or fought in team matches under the protection of others.
The mages who could truly stand on their own in real battle were those who had trained to the highest level, capable of switching freely from low-circle spells to high-circle spells. People like that were as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns.
That was why the Empire’s mainstream fighting force consisted of those who cultivated both Magic and martial combat.
They used swords, knives, spears, and their own bodies as weapons. Most of the people sent to take part in this ruin expedition were that sort as well.
The swords and spears on those weapon racks were ant for those of common birth, the ones with no family resources behind them.
Beside the weapon racks were more than a dozen wooden crates, their lids thrown open, revealing leather satchels and wooden boxes stacked in neat rows inside.
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