Vitus limped out of his room and headed for the mess hall.
This was one of the things his last mission had left him with. The others were more nightmares, two scars on his right cheek, and soft tissue bruising all over his body. It was no exaggeration to say that even breathing hurt now.
Under such circumstances, no one could be in a particularly good mood, but he still used the willpower forged through years of training to keep himself under control. In a sense, losing control meant being fragile and weak, and he did not want either of those things.
Ten minutes later, moving at half his usual speed, he arrived at the mess hall.
To his surprise, someone had already claimed a table and was eating there. And it was not Captain Kaiqi, who loved nothing more than a hearty meal.
"Major." Vitus approached and saluted. "You're up early."
"Enough with these completely pointless pleasantries. Go pick your breakfast, then come over and talk with me," Augustus Fidelis said.
Vitus did as instructed and returned with a bowl of minced-meat porridge. By then, the major was nearly finished, with only a thin layer of broth left at the bottom of his bowl.
"You and your Fourth Company did well," Augustus began. "A day-long forced march through the harsh environment of the Aimo Snowfields, followed immediately by holding back the enemy's main force. What a pity, Lieutenant. If we were a normal army, your entire company would have been commended."
Vitus swallowed his mouthful of porridge and asked without changing expression, "Are we not a normal army?"
The major smiled faintly. "Normal? Never mind the matter of our designation. Other penal legions at least have proper names. We have nothing at all."
"Perhaps the colonel forgot."
"Very amusing,