Annie poured the liquid, worth at least three hundred gold coins, into a bucket of river water to dilute it, then distributed it to the wounded according to the severity of their injuries. Those with minor wounds received only enough to cover the bottom of a cup, while those with severe injuries got a full mug.
The mercenaries had clearly used holy water before. The more experienced ones first sprinkled some over their external wounds, then gulped down the rest in one go.
The effect was immediate. When the divine power took effect, it produced a faint white glow. Under its radiance, the small wounds quickly closed and scabbed over, while even the most serious ones stopped bleeding.
Richard watched the entire process from the side, so envious that he nearly drooled. If magic's assistance to an army was limited solely to destructive power, that would be far too narrow-minded and unimaginative. The effects of a tiny crystal vial were no less than those of a field hospital. Aside from its high cost, it could be said to have no other shortcomings.
Well... aside from its high cost...
Annie caught sight of Richard's wide-eyed expression from the corner of her eye, and an imperceptible smile touched the corners of her lips. Although the armed guards of this Pioneering Territory were exceptionally powerful, they seemed to be just as financially strained as most Pioneering Nobles.
The caravan's situation was dangerous. The mercenaries had almost completely lost their combat effectiveness, while their temporary allies were overwhelmingly powerful. Revealing a little of the trading company's reserves would help maintain the balance when the strength of the two sides was so utterly unequal.
The improvement in their circumstances helped the mercenaries regain some of their spirits. Those with lighter injuries stepped forward on their own and began pitching tents and setting up campfires thirty or forty paces from the wooden building, at the foot of the hills.
Their choice of location was clearly deliberate. It was not far from the riverbank, but they did not set up right beside the river, ensuring convenient access to water without having to deal with overly damp ground. The terrain was flat, the view open, and the spot happened to lie on the leeward side of the hills.
Judging by Richard's eye, apart from the area occupied by the wooden building, this was the best location nearby.
The caravan carried a complete and practical set of camping equipment, and the workers were all skilled veterans. In less than half an hour, they had established a standard temporary camp.
Richard squatted at the entrance of the wooden building, cracking sunflower seeds while watching the mercenaries orderly arrange the wounded. That sense of discipline made them impossible to underestimate. When he turned around, the group of barbarians under his command seemed to be fighting over something and were almost coming to blows.
"Give it to me! Give it to me!"
One barbarian had an especially loud voice. Richard recognized him—his name was Rosell, and he had been the first to advance into a Barbarian Great Axe Warrior.
The barbarian soldiers now spanned three ranks: Barbarian Spearmen, Barbarian Warriors, and Barbarian Great Axe Warriors. Rosell, who stood at the highest rank, had an overwhelming advantage in strength over his fellow tribesmen who remained Barbarian Spearmen, yet no division in status had appeared among the barbarians because of it.
Their increase in strength depended entirely on outside forces. The difference between the strongest and weakest among them was nothing more than time and luck; there was no insurmountable gulf. Those who had advanced first had nothing to be proud of, while those who lagged behind would not be discouraged because of it.
The battle against the gnolls had yielded the richest spoils since they had entered the wilderness. They had seized a large number of weapons and suits of armor. The barbarians were gathered around a pile of spoils, rummaging through it for anything that caught their eye, and every so often they would erupt into a noisy quarrel over the division of the loot.
Rosell snatched up a pair of double-bladed battle axes and proudly showed off the fanciest techniques to his companions. The two heavy axes spun in his hands like a pair of spirals, their dull, ominous whirring cutting through the air. Yet they seemed rooted to his hands and simply refused to fall.
He had not actually been very good with axes before. But after triggering the Asura Elixir twice through battle, he had inexplicably developed a familiarity with the weapon. Now that he tried it out, it turned out not to be an illusion—he had truly gone from "beginner to master of battle-axe use" in a single day!
"Pretty impressive, huh?" Rosell grinned broadly at his fellow tribesmen.
For some reason, his fellow tribesmen suddenly fell silent. They even abandoned the spoils they had been fighting over. Rosell mistook this silence for envy and put even more effort into his performance.
"Impressive my ass!" Richard launched a kick from behind, sending him sprawling like a dog eating dirt. "You've got nothing better to do? All of you, go run laps!"
The barbarians immediately scattered like startled birds and fleeing beasts.
Annie sat cross-legged on a straw mat at the entrance of a tent, organizing bowstrings. Several mercenary leaders sat respectfully nearby, each with a cup of reddish-brown tea in front of him.
This was sorrel tea, which had only become popular in Pompeii in recent years. It tasted sharply sour and astringent at first, but careful tasting revealed a rich, full-bodied fragrance.
They were not far from the wooden building, and everything happening there could be seen and heard simply by raising their heads.
"Although I don't know much about Martial Arts, that axe warrior seems very formidable." Annie set down the bowstring and imitated Rosell's axe movements, gesturing twice.
"He is formidable." One-Eyed Dragon's voice was deep and low. "Those advanced techniques, which make great weight seem effortless, aren't something an ordinary warrior can master."
After speaking, he lowered his head and took a sip of tea. He did not actually like this slightly sour, astringent drink; he had merely taken a sip instinctively to conceal his shock. Although he was unwilling to admit it, based on his years of experience, he suspected that there might not be a single mercenary in the caravan who was a match for this axe warrior.
"But I feel like his status in High Mountain Keep is rather ordinary. A high-ranking warrior, yet with an ordinary position." Annie spread her hands. "Could everyone be this powerful?"
"That's impossible!" One-Eyed Dragon did not sound entirely confident either. As if trying to convince himself, he added, "It defies common sense. It defies common sense."
Annie's delicate brows drew tightly together. She did not seem satisfied with that explanation.
The military had always been the place with the clearest hierarchy. Strength was absolutely proportional to status, and even relatively undisciplined mercenaries were no exception. If the axe warrior truly possessed such outstanding strength, how could his status be ordinary? "It defies common sense" alone could not explain this.
The impromptu tea gathering in the camp fell silent for a moment. In the end, Annie was the one who spoke again.
"What about Lord Richard?"
"Extremely powerful!"
"I personally saw him lift a cavalry lance and three impaled gnolls with one arm." One-Eyed Dragon seemed somewhat agitated, and the wound on his neck, which had already stopped bleeding, began to seep blood again. "That man's pure physical strength is probably greater than that of some lesser giants!"
"Hiss~" A chorus of synchronized gasps rang out, as if they were about to suck a vacuum into existence before them.
"Unimaginable." Another mercenary leader shook his head as he sipped his tea. "If such a warrior donned three layers of heavy armor and mounted that Iron-eating Armadillo of his, standing three blades tall, he would be an unstoppable meat-grinding mill on the battlefield."
"This Pioneering Territory is incredibly powerful."
Annie stared blankly at the wooden building in the distance, an unreadable emotion hidden in her eyes.
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