49 Being a Sergeant Has its Perks

"Goodbye, friend. We'll meet again in Kingsrest," Jacob said, clapping Rod's back in the friendliest way, which was to say, hard.

"That we will, Jacob. Until then!" the boy called as he rode away on one of the few horses the Fourth had to their name. Granted to those with distant homes, the horses were given away in a lottery. Rod was lucky enough to have received one; walking all the way to Riverbank and back to Kingsrest would have taken his entire vacation.

Jacob then turned to pack away his own stuff. Truthfully, there was pitifully little to put away. His back was loaded with his lute, his loaned blade at his hip. Some supplies hung over a shoulder, the bag relatively light given the dismal state of the Fourth's supplies. Much of it had been damaged or consumed in the fighting; there wasn't enough to reach Kingsrest in one go, by Jacob's estimation.

In the meantime, soldiers from the Fifth streamed through the fortress, grumbles accompanying the disgruntled soldiers as they went. Clearly, it wouldn't be as easy as it normally was. Jacob smiled at their disappointment, taking amusement in their dejected expressions. That being said, even more amusement could be found watching their reactions upon realizing a superior officer was listening to them whine about all the extra work.

Jacob's armor was outfitted with an officer's blue tabard, a stylized roaring green dragon dead center. It stood on a pedestal, the color of which denoting an officer's rank. It was plainly obvious that he was a sergeant to any who actually cared about those walking around them. He'd have to thank the commander for these little pleasures. It didn't quite make up for the situation he found himself in, but it certainly made it more bearable.

Being a Special Sergeant removed him from normal military command, making his only direct officer the commander himself. He was expected to follow the orders of those that outranked him, but he was no longer in a formal command structure. Originally, he hadn't really cared about what the ramifications of what that was, but now he did. Not having to report to a lieutenant, not having to abide by some uppity corporal's rules; that was bliss. He worked on his terms.

During reconstruction, that still meant going to bed without a chance to meditate. All his mana was consumed manipulating earth to fix the more important breaches in the walls' defenses. It was odd seeing how worn they'd gotten despite the monsters not having any siege weapons. The sheer stress the put on the structures had nearly torn them apart in places.

It raised the question of what the goal of these creatures was. For all their insanity, the goblins possessed some sort of intelligence beyond a wild animal. Without siege engines, taking a walled city or a fortification was enormously difficult. And yet, they'd thrown themselves at Writha Fortress' walls relentlessly.

The goblins fought through Yoru's fortress, but they didn't stay to kill the defenders from the neighboring nation. They allowed them to remain behind and cut them down in a pincer attack. It was a foolish tactical decision at the very best, but there was not a sentient creature alive that would make that mistake. Something had forced the goblins' hands. Either that, or Writha Fortress had something they wanted. Jacob didn't know which was scarier. He was honestly just happy he was leaving this place; any further issues would be the Fifth Infantry's domain.

From the expression on Commander Ericksson's face, he clearly felt the same way. The older officer walked around with a sort of giddy expression on his face, an expression Jacob had never seen before on his face. It looked out of place. The commander addressed the assembled soldiers.

"We leave for Steelshade in an hour. We haven't the resources to make the trek back to Kingsrest without stopping by for supplies. Once we have, we'll return to the forests so as not to make a commotion on the roads." Many among the crowd groaned at that proclamation. It was to be expected, as walking on a road was much preferable to dodging roots and dips in the ground every minute. "Oh, you all know that King Benjamin prefers us not to interrupt commerce. A thousand soldiers walking all the way to Kingsrest would delay the merchants."

True to his word, the commander had them marching out of the fortress in just under an hour. While the suns was still high in the sky, the Fourth had to hustle to make it any great distance before the suns dipped below the horizon. Truthfully, they didn't really make all that great of a stride to Steelshade. Commander Ericksson was just excited to leave that deathtrap, a sentiment Jacob shared despite the irritation of having to pitch camp early.

At least he had a personal tent now. He wasn't given a tent to share with others even as a private. This was another perk to his rank. While it wasn't anything like the captains' enchanted tents, created to maintain a static temperature, the tent gave him privacy. Without needing to tend to construction, Jacob had plenty of mana to use to circulate the air about himself. Over the days, his pool had deepened considerably. Being able to create a spike the size of a man was a marked improvement over the days when his spike barely reached halfway to the knee.

So when the walls of Steelshade came into view, Jacob had a much different view of the city than when he had originally come. When he last left Steelshade, Jacob was enraged, clueless as to his magic, his place, and his purpose. He was still furious, but no longer was he clueless to his magic and his place. His place was as a servant to the King. The thought brought bile to his throat, but it was a certainty that allowed Jacob a measure of regularity. He'd take the security for as long as it was freely offered.

His neck burned.