He clearly heard the Chiliarch's last words were not "return home," but a loud "expedition!". Before he could voice his full of confusion, he was swept into the snowstorm with the mighty crowd and the endless flurry of snow...
...
Sarve finally left the camp he had cursed for nearly three months, along with other bewildered peasants carrying flintlock guns.
With the precedent of being hanged, no one dared to escape. Moreover, mounted soldiers eyed them menacingly, and no one dared bet on being the fastest runner.
In short...
Just follow for now.
However, the direction of the march made everyone feel confused again. They were clearly trained to prevent northern bandit troubles, yet the officers' boots pointed south.
The troop was led to the bank of the Rushing River.
Here lay a small dock, filled with big and small flat-bottomed barges primarily used for transporting grain, and occasionally passengers.
This year, however, was different from previous years.
