Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 941: Section 618: Return (3)_2

Chapter 941: Section 618: Return (3)_2

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Upon opening the barrel, Constantine and Link saw slabs and slabs of meat, red meat streaked with white fat, accompanied by a tantalizing aroma and perfect color. It was Thainan’s braised pork, the salvation for all meat aficionados. Constantine closed the barrel lid, glanced at his adjutant, then asked the Domestic Fairies, "Such big chunks of meat, one for two people?"

"No, one per person." The fairies pushing the cart responded, their faces glowing with happiness: "We’ve already had ours by the kitchen, it’s super delicious!"

"Back at home, I’ve never had such big pieces of Thainan braised pork," Constantine said to his adjutant in amazement.

This time, the deeply agreeing adjutant nodded vigorously: "Yes, Your Excellency, I’ve also never seen such amazing Thainan braised pork at home."

So the Marshal and his adjutant came in front of the third barrel, and despite the lid, they couldn’t ignore the rising steam. The Marshal glanced at his adjutant: "We’ve seen bread and meat, the next should be noodles, I presume."

"I have a feeling it could be stew, the favorite of our soldiers from the North. Mr. Malin is always benevolence personified, he will certainly prepare what the soldiers have wished for," the adjutant said.

The Marshal then stretched out his hand and opened the barrel lid; in front of them, a barrel filled to the brim with venison soup—no scraps, just generous chunks of meat and a rich, appetizing broth that made one’s mouth water at a glance.

"I’m getting hungry." The Marshal declared after taking a glance at his adjutant, who was fixated on the shimmering fat on the surface of the soup.

The Marshal clapped his hands: "Enough looking, Link, let’s go find Malin. We’ll just join him for lunch today."

Thus, the Marshal and his adjutant, no longer concerned about the contents of the remaining barrels, as the more they looked the hungrier they got, were guided by the Gendarmerie to the command post, where they met Malin and officers from both sides.

"You’ve come at the right time." Malin, sitting in a rocking chair with an inexplicably childlike appearance, seemed uncontrollably joyful.

Constantine walked over to his side, and from there he could clearly see the sandbox surrounded by people: "What’s this about?"

"I had my company commanders challenge yours at the company level, previously it was my commanders on the offensive, now roles have shifted." Despite his reduced size, the authority of the strong was evident. He gestured to Jon, who had an ashen face and was holding a notebook: "Jon, perfect timing, come and brief His Excellency Constantine about the previous battle situation."

Constantine got the sand table debrief from Jon, and by the time the big-headed soldiers of this company commander had been wiped out, he had heard all there was.

A complete outclass. In the company-level engagements, each of Malin’s company commanders had distinct defensive strategies, utilizing limited equipment and personnel to gain the upper hand against peer units.

Their use of machine guns, adhering to the concept of crossfire, always led to perfect adjustments, where the successive crossfire of just two machine guns could eliminate at least a dozen soldiers in a blink of an eye.

However, when they were on the offensive, whether it was smoke grenades, rifle grenades, or recoilless guns, they could quickly neutralize any exposed machine gun positions.

In this smokeless battle, Constantine’s company commanders were having a rough time.

After watching a few more rounds, Constantine felt too ashamed to continue, so he brazenly brought up the topic of lunch with Malin.

"Haven’t you eaten? You should’ve said so earlier. Well, I’ve already prepared food for everyone. This afternoon, a few other groups’ company commanders will be receiving command training. I intend to train these commanders to be competent battlefield leaders. Generals and Marshals will command strategies and operations, whereas these commanders will be holding the lives of their own and their soldiers in their hands. Hence, I must educate them, let them understand that soldier’s incompetence will only lead to their own demise, and in their hands, they hold the fate of their entire company."

Having said that, Mr. Malin hopped down from the rocking chair, gesturing everyone to follow him, with Constantine contentedly trailing behind.

Today, Mr. Malin was dressed in a thick robe, looking like a stoic monk on pilgrimage.

The only symbol representing his status as the High Priest was that red silk sash, tied around his waist.

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Well, considering he was not familiar with all the ins and outs of the Church, Constantine did not ask anything and followed Malin into the large dining hall behind the command post. Through the transparent doors, Constantine saw that quite a few soldiers and sergeants had already taken their seats.

Well, Constantine recognized quite a few of the soldiers; they were all outstanding individuals who had received his autograph and commendation in the past.

"These soldiers are the best performers from each company this morning, so they have the privilege to dine with me," Malin turned and said, "I don’t care about any unwritten rules you northerners may have, but I just want everyone to remember, we’re just the ones issuing orders, and these soldiers are the ones who truly carry them out. I don’t ask for your respect, but I do hope you can treat them as human beings."

In the corridor, after Malin His Excellency finished his lecture, he then led everyone into the dining hall.

The arrival of everyone caused a flurry among the soldiers and officers as they scrambled to their feet, but Malin gestured with his hand, "Sit down, soldiers, here we are all guests of the delightful feast."

After having the soldiers take their seats, Malin led his group to a recently assembled bench, where dish after dish of food that looked and smelled so good it made Constantine’s olfactory system scream in ecstasy was brought out.

Constantine took his seat to the left of Malin. The elder had just sat down when two Domestic Fairies pushing a drink cart approached: "Your Excellency Malin, would you like some wine?"

"Pour a small cup for the gentlemen; they still have training this afternoon. Marshal Constantine can have a bit more," Malin finished speaking, took his cup, stood up, raised it high, and looked towards the soldiers: "To all of you! I hope to see you here every day."

The soldiers stood and raised their glasses with Malin. Considering Constantine did not smell much alcohol, it was obvious that the soldiers’ cups contained something else.

Malin drained the wine in his glass, gestured for the soldiers to sit down, and then he also returned to his seat, "Gentlemen, don’t be shy. Remember, fighting in the trenches and combat in the city are two different things. Next, we are heading south to liberate the towns occupied by Chaos. Only by completing your training and having a strong physique can you fulfill the combat tasks given to you each day. The more you sweat in training, the less blood you’ll bleed on the battlefield."

The company commanders agreed vocally, and then on Malin His Excellency’s cue, they started devouring their food happily. Constantine saw his adjutant doing the same, members of the Svenson family ate as if they were starved Ghouls.

Is it really that delicious?

Constantine received the wine handed over by the Domestic Fairy, patted their heads as a thank you, put down his cup, picked up the knife and fork, and prepared to cut into the meat on his plate; it was supposed to be not beef but standard Sarol beast, looking quite overcooked - tough to a person accustomed to medium-rare.

However, as his knife cut into the meat, Constantine was surprised not to feel the anticipated resistance; the meat sliced as easily as butter, radiating an almost prismatic glow. The old Marshal forked a piece of meat, endured a moment of internal struggle, but ultimately could not resist the delectable smell and put it in his mouth.

Umm... the taste buds are exploding, burning, weeping that everything they had before was like garbage and rock wax.

Constantine, eating this piece of meat, you’ve lived a worthwhile life!

The old Constantine experienced what melting in the mouth truly meant, while his adjutant was already raising his hand, "Please, another piece of steak for me!"

My adjutant, are you a starving ghost?!

Constantine mused, while swallowing the meat on his plate, and also raised his hand.

"May I stay here for half the time to come, Your Excellency Malin?" Marshal His Excellency possesses the most professional insight on how to scrounge for a meal politely and reasonably.

"Of course, there’s no problem, my old friend," Malin His Excellency answered with a smile.

Nodding his head, the old Marshal glanced at his young adjutant, who was still in shock, and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Hehe, young man, learn a bit, you’ve got a long road ahead.