"Sackville, how is it? Was there still not enough food today?"
Without turning around, he focused on warming his hands over the stove. His reply echoed through the tent.
"Not nearly enough. There's even word that everyone's rations will be cut again. The food we get tomorrow might be even less than today. Oh, and we're running short on Originium fuel too. Give your coat to the men on watch tonight. Don't let them freeze to death. We're better off inside the tent."
Unable to contain his anger, his companion slammed a fist against the camp bed beneath him. But he immediately glanced around warily, as if afraid someone might overhear. Still, he could not stop himself from muttering in a low voice.
"We can barely get enough to eat as it is. If they cut it again, how are we supposed to have the strength to pick up weapons and fight? Are those bastard generals going to risk their own lives then...?"
Sackville frowned deeply and shot his comrade a fierce glare. Then he lowered his voice as well and spoke in a rapid whisper.
"You idiot, are you trying to get yourself killed? You're stupider than a hunting beast. What do you even have a brain for? If anyone hears that nonsense, you'll be hanging from that rack tonight!! The rest of us will be dragged down with you too!"
The other man immediately shut his mouth. Worry appeared uncontrollably on his face as he stood up, opened the tent flap, and checked both sides. Only after seeing no military police did he sit back down.
Sackville silently opened the compartment of the Originium stove and tossed in a block of Originium fuel. The temperature in the tent rose slightly, but it was still far too cold. The