Chapter 11: The Barracks and the Brutes.
While the medics moved about, attending to those in more critical condition, the remaining recruits who had managed to stay upright or at least conscious were ushered away from the recruitment square.
Spencer, along with several hundred others, was directed toward the heart of the military encampment where the army barracks were located.
They had to walk for quite a while, showing just how huge the outpost they were in, was.
As they moved deeper into the camp, the organized chaos of a wartime mobilization became increasingly apparent, with supply wagons rattling past and seasoned soldiers sharpening their blades in the shade of their quarters.
Throughout the walk, Spencer took in the sights in silence, since this would soon be his new home.
He observed people of all kinds moving between the rows; the majority were muscular and fit individuals whose bodies had been hardened by the rigors of border life, though there were certainly some exceptions among the support staff and the newer, scrawnier arrivals.
One could say the air here was filled with a rough, masculine energy that felt worlds away from the perfumed halls of the Luminous estate, a change that Spencer found strangely grounding despite the inherent danger of the place.
He continued to take a look around as they were each escorted toward the tents, trying to memorize the layout of the camp for the foreseeable future.
As the new recruits were being systematically assigned to their living quarters, Spencer noticed that the process was done entirely at random for the time being.
Since the official platoon assignments hadn't been finalized yet, the officers were simply shoving men into available slots to get them off the main thoroughfares.
It was a temporary arrangement, but in a place like this, "temporary" could often stretch into weeks or months depending on the movements of the demon folks across the border.
Spencer was eventually assigned to a large, weathered tent along with four other men.
Without saying a word to his new roommates, he ignored their presence entirely and carried his meager luggage off to one side of the interior, seeking out a spot that offered a modicum of privacy.
Since this was nothing more than a temporary accommodation before the real military life began, he had absolutely no interest in getting to know these men or forming bonds that would likely be severed by the first skirmish.
He just wanted a place to rest his head and plan his next move.
But just as he was about to sit atop a vacant bed near the back of the tent, one of the other men suddenly lunged forward, overtaking him with a burst of rude energy and planting himself firmly on the mattress.
Spencer silently glanced at the interloper, who was a tall, muscular man who looked to be in his late thirties, possessing a rugged face marked by visible scars that gave him a naturally intimidating and thuggish appearance.
He sprawled out as if he owned the entire tent, his boots kicking up a small cloud of dust from the floor.
"Can't you see, kid? This bed is already mine," the man unceremoniously ordered, his raspy voice lacking the slightest hint of politeness.
"Why don't you go find another one and stop hovering around like a lost puppy."
Spencer stopped in his tracks and stared at the man in a cold, heavy silence.
He didn't move, nor did he blink, his green eyes boring into the older man with a certain level of intensity that seemed to momentarily give the brute pause.
However, the man quickly recovered his bluster right after, perhaps he felt there was nothing to fear so he stood up, now standing in Spencer's face.
"What? Didn't you hear what I just said, or are you deaf as well as stupid?" the man uttered in a rude, aggressive tone, glancing down at Spencer with a look of pure irritation.
He was a full head taller than Spencer, perhaps he believed it would be easy to force him into submission by using his height advantage.
[+0.1ST]
Spencer looked at the notification that flickered briefly in his vision and nearly wanted to scoff out loud.
'Only 0.1? This bastard isn't even at the threshold of Tier 1!' Realizing that there was absolutely no benefit in stirring the pot or wasting his energy on a fight that would yield such a pathetic amount of Stat Points, Spencer decided to compromise.
He wasn't a hotheaded teenager anymore, and he knew that drawing attention to himself over a moldy cot wasn't part of his long-term strategy for his growth.
"No, I heard you perfectly fine," Spencer said, letting out a soft, tired sigh as he spoke in a remarkably calm tone that seemed to confuse the scarred man.
He didn't give the brute the satisfaction of an angry retort; instead, he simply turned on his heel and walked off toward another empty bed on the opposite side of the tent.
He wasn't afraid, but he was practical, and a Tier 1 warrior had no business brawling with a common thug for no gain.
"Tsk, wretched noble bastard. Doesn't even have the balls to talk back when someone takes his seat," was what Spencer heard the man mutter beneath his breath as he walked away.
Spencer's eyes twitched slightly at the remark, a flash of genuine annoyance crossing his features, but he didn't stop nor did he turn around to acknowledge the insult.
He reached another bed, took a seat, and placed his luggage on the rough fabric next to him.
The other random recruits in the tent quickly claimed their own respective beds, sensing the tension and wanting no part of it.
Besides that brief, unpleasant scuffle, nothing else of note happened in the minutes that followed, and the tent settled into an awkward, silent truce.
Sometime later, the scary-faced man stood up and stepped out of the tent, likely to find some trouble or some drink elsewhere in the camp.
After a while longer, the other three men began to filter out as well, perhaps driven by curiosity to check out the rest of the barracks or simply to escape the stifling atmosphere of the cramped quarters.
Spencer, however, didn't move. He welcomed the sudden quiet, laying atop his bed with a carefree look on his face and his hands crossed behind his head as he lounged in the silence of the empty tent.
But just as he was beginning to relax and contemplate the best way to spend his remaining unallocated points, his ears picked up on the distinct sound of approaching footsteps.
Spencer glanced out of the corner of his eye toward the tent flap, expecting to see his roommates, yet he found himself frowning upon doing so.
It wasn't them who had returned to the quarters. Instead, a trio of unfamiliar men pushed their way inside, their shadows stretching long across the dirt floor.
"And how exactly may I help you gentlemen?" Spencer asked, his voice calm and steady.
After speaking, He sat up straight on his bed, his legs firmly planted over the side as he stared at the new trio who had entered the tent.
Judging by their brash, arrogant looks and the way they fanned out to block the exit, he knew immediately that these guys were definitely not here to offer a warm welcome.
They had the look of seasoned bullies, basically the type of men who thrived in the lawless gaps of military life, and it seemed they had found their latest target.