Making Camp

When Ye Wei'an returned to camp with a flapping grouse in his hands, the campfire was already burning.

Renn took the grouse and began dressing it with practiced efficiency.

Nearby, Harold and Cain were putting up a rain shelter together.

They pulled several large, thick sheets of oilcloth from their packs and used sharpened wooden poles to prop up the frames. Before long, they had erected two crude triangular shelters that offered protection from the wind and rain. A few thick, roll-up leather sleeping bags lay spread on the ground beside them, stuffed with dry moss or wool. These were the standard outdoor "beds" for men of the military.

"You're back, young master." Cain clapped the dust from his hands when he saw Ye Wei'an return. "The conditions are primitive, so we're setting up a shelter. We can put one up for you, too. Would you like us to lay your sleeping bag beside the fire?"

"No need to go to all that trouble. I can handle it myself."

Cain was just about to say, "But that wouldn't be right," when he saw Ye Wei'an walk to a cleared patch of ground in the middle of camp.

He held out his hand, focused on the system inventory, and selected "Retrieve."

The next moment, Cain's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

A large, deep-blue tent with silver trim appeared out of thin air, as if by magic, and landed on the cleared ground. It wasn't one of those crude triangular shelters, but a spacious luxury tent with a collapsible frame and guy ropes. It even had folding screens inside to divide the space.

Then Ye Wei'an began taking out more equipment at a leisurely pace:

A thick rug woven with an intricate pattern, a folding camp bed with a padded mattress, a fully equipped portable metal stove, a collapsible leather bathtub, and even a set of white porcelain tea ware carefully wrapped in soft cloth.

The plain-spoken soldiers stared in disbelief.

They were used to marching under harsh conditions. They'd never seen anything like this.

Ailian was the only one who seemed unfazed. Though it was her first time experiencing the convenience of a Bag of Holding, she acted as though this were all perfectly ordinary and set to work with practiced ease. She laid the rug inside the tent, set up the camp bed and smoothed out its mattress, carried the stove over beside the fire, and carefully placed the tea set on a flat rock next to it.

Only after all that did she remember something and turn to Ye Wei'an. "Young master, the water for the tea..."

"Mm." Ye Wei'an raised a hand toward the teapot and murmured an incantation.

"Four Symbols Method: Water."

The moisture in the air quickly gathered and condensed into a stream, which trickled into the teapot until it was about eighty percent full.

Ailian took tea leaves from a delicate little tin and began heating water and brewing tea over the campfire.

Perhaps because he'd inherited his mother's tastes, the original owner and Ye Wei'an shared the same fondness for tea.

Afterward, she took a slightly smaller tent from Ye Wei'an and walked over to Cain and the others. With some embarrassment, she held it out to them. "Sir Cain, the young master said you can use this... It should be more comfortable than the oilcloth shelters."

"Y-young master..." Cain glanced at the crude bedroll and a few stones he'd set aside as a pillow, then looked at the fully equipped, almost luxurious temporary camp before him. His Adam's apple bobbed. "...I feel less like we're on the march, chasing down our quarry, and more like we're accompanying you on a picnic."

Even in the Purple Dragon Order, this kind of treatment in the field was usually reserved for commanders. A Bag of Holding was simply too expensive for ordinary people to afford.

"When you're away from home, the conditions are already rough enough. You should still treat yourself well." Ye Wei'an took the herbal tea Ailian handed him and sipped it, as though it were only natural.

In his previous life back home, he'd never had to suffer through nights spent roughing it in the open.

Now that he'd been transported to another world, with the dual status of a noble's son and a spellcaster, it would be a miserable joke if he had to live like an ascetic.

If he could afford to, why make himself suffer?

Meanwhile, Renn had finished dressing the grouse.

After helping the young master sit down, Ailian busied herself around the portable stove.

At Ye Wei'an's instruction, she set aside the grouse's wings and legs, chopped the rest into pieces, and put them in a pot with water to stew. She washed and chopped the wild garlic and herbs Ye Wei'an had gathered, then sprinkled them into the pot.

Finally, she took out a delicate walnutwood box.

When she opened it, an intensely rich scent wafted out, spicy with a hint of exotic fragrance.

Inside were expensive saffron and black pepper from Calimshan.

She pinched out a little powder and sprinkled it into the soup.

As the liquid simmered, the rich aroma of spices and savory meat quickly filled the whole camp.

For soldiers who'd fought a fierce battle and traveled all day, the smell was an irresistible temptation.

Harold, who'd been tending to his weapons, and Renn, who'd been checking the horses' hooves, both slowed down without realizing it. Their Adam's apples bobbed.

Even Cain, who was usually so serious, couldn't help glancing toward the stove a few times.

Ye Wei'an certainly wasn't stingy. Once the soup was ready, he had Ailian serve everyone a full bowl.

Cain and the two soldiers washed down their hardtack with steaming hot chicken soup. All three wore unusually satisfied expressions.

Harold's forehead glistened with sweat as he exclaimed, "What a soup! This flavor... incredible! It's so much better than the stew they serve at the barracks!"

"Miss Ailian's cooking really is outstanding," Cain agreed, his tone much warmer.

"It's all thanks to the spices." Ailian smiled a little bashfully.

After making the soup, Ailian didn't stop working.

She threaded the wings and legs onto sharpened branches and set them beside the campfire to roast slowly.

Fat dripped onto the coals with a sizzling sound, and the roasted meat gradually began to smell delicious.

But when the aroma drifted over to Cain and the others, their expressions turned a little strange.

That distinctive smell of charred protein inevitably brought back memories of the day—the stench of Spellfire Flame burning through bandits' leather armor and flesh, and the similar, nauseating smell of the Goblins.

Harold's Adam's apple bobbed violently. He turned his head away.

Renn cleared his throat hard, his face pale.

Even Cain put down his bowl of soup and tried to suppress his unsettled stomach.

Only Ye Wei'an seemed completely unaffected. Without a change in expression, he took a skewer of golden, crispy chicken wings, glistening with fat, from Ailian and calmly took a bite.

For a while, the only sounds in the camp were the crackling firewood and Ye Wei'an's quiet chewing. An awkward tension settled over the group.

To break the silence, Ye Wei'an swallowed his food, wiped his hands with the damp cloth Ailian handed him, and casually asked, "Cain, when you used to march with the Purple Dragon Order, did you often camp outdoors like this? How did you usually spend the night?"

Cain set down his bowl and answered solemnly, "Yes, young master. Conditions were much harsher back then. Usually, we'd spread a sheet of oilcloth on the ground, chew hardtack as hard as stone, and wash it down with cold water. If we went somewhere like the Far Sea Swamp, it was even worse. No matter how careful we were, we'd end up covered in mud, and sleeping wrapped in a soaking-wet blanket was commonplace. A night like this, with hot soup and a tent to keep out the wind and rain..."

He looked around the camp and said sincerely, "We're truly grateful to you, young master. We're enjoying the benefits, too."

"It's always good to make everyone more comfortable." Ye Wei'an smiled and took the cup of hot tea Ailian offered at just the right moment. "Speaking of which, what was the food like in the barracks when you weren't out on a mission? It couldn't be worse than our soup tonight, could it?"

The conversation turned to the familiar subject of military life, and the mood lightened.

Harold cut in. "Young master, don't even ask! A knight like Sir Cain had it pretty good, but the food for regular infantry like us wasn't even fit for Goblins! It was often just a huge pot of gruel. If you could tell whether there were beans or chunks of meat in it, that counted as an extra treat!"

Renn chuckled. "Exactly! Nothing came close to Miss Ailian's soup. This is my first time getting to enjoy noble spices, too."

Cain nodded, recalling the past. "That's true. The army's first priority was to make sure the food was filling and would keep well. Taste came second. Getting to sit comfortably like this, drink hot soup, and eat freshly roasted meat..."

At the mention of roasted meat, he couldn't help retching. It took all his effort to keep going. "...That was a rare luxury on a mission."

He looked at Ye Wei'an, undisguised emotion in his eyes. "Young master, honestly, before we set out, I never imagined the journey would go so... smoothly."