Chapter 34 Departure_2
He had completely lost any sense of direction, and simply followed numbly.
The luckiest militiamen only received a bow, and even that was an unstrung single bow that felt like a stick in their hands.
Those who were assigned fighting swords and pikes were a bit less fortunate, as these weapons were heavier.
The unluckiest poor souls had to carry muskets. The matchlock guns bought from Revodan weighed sixteen pounds each and did not come with slings.
Pierre felt like he was carrying a weight of a thousand catties on his shoulder, his flesh sore and numb from the pressure.
He finally understood the somewhat elusive smile on the lieutenant's face when he saw him eagerly claiming the musket.
"That guy," Pierre thought resentfully, "must be comfortably riding on his silver-gray steed, laughing at our suffering."
Right beside him flowed the turbulent Big Horn River, and Pierre, pushed to his limit, had the thought: Just jump into the river, and I won't have to endure this any longer.