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"WE'RE GOING to fucking die," Rithar mutters, dragging his feet through the tall grass in stubborn reluctance.
Captain Sevoller growls, smacking the back of the soldier's helmet. "If we do, it's for a good fucking reason," he tells him. "Don't forget what we are fighting for."
Beside me, Rithar scoffs quietly but continues marching through the forest. The unit of soldiers I'm in has been dragging their asses since receiving orders to join the infantry a few minutes ago.
It was easy enough to get into the camp undetected. The soldier Reepicheep captured turned out to be more than happy to spill whatever information we asked for, so long as he could hide safely in Aslan's How until the battle was over. So when his replacement showed up to take over his post, I knew exactly what to do and how to find my unit back at the camp. What he didn't tell me was how damned dysfunctional they are.
Rithar is the most pessimistic and argumentative person I've ever met, always looking for a fight to pick with the other men and complaining about their inevitable deaths at the hands of 'some savage goat-beast with a stick.'
Nillovlen constantly has one finger on the trigger of his crossbow, waiting for a blade of grass to look at him the wrong way so he can shoot an arrow through it. He takes every opportunity he can to preach about their magnificent king and how he's going to finally push the Narnians to extinction. His attitude is at least better than Rithar's, but the hunger for blood in his eyes makes him far more unsettling to be around. He also sprouts the most idiotic statements I've ever had the misfortune of hearing.
Burtaz seems normal enough until you try talking to him and he immediately starts crying. Rithar has convinced him he's going to be brutally killed by a Narnian beast and so one word in his direction launches the unstable soldier into a tirade of hysterics and desperate prayers for his survival.
Gestollan (the imbecile I'm stuck impersonating) is a skittish, nervous wreck of a soldier who's more likely to impale himself on his own sword than kill anything with it.
And Captain Sevoller is just an asshole.
He doesn't give a damn that one of his soldiers is about to turn tail and run into the trees before reaching the battlefield, or that Nillovlen will probably mistake him for a pig and shoot an arrow through him. All he cares about is fighting at Beruna for his tyrant of a king. From what I've gathered, he just begged to have his unit taken off of scout duty and moved to the front line. And thank the stars whatever commanding officer he dealt with had enough sense to realize what a horrible idea that is and instead ordered us to the fifth battalion — the very back of the far left flank.
The walk itself shouldn't be long but with these insufferable morons around me it feels like it may never end.
"Have you seen their army?" Nillovlen chortles. "They have a few horse-people and wood animals. Even if that hill of dirt they're hiding in is full of them, the cavalry will kill them all."
