Chapter 500 Mercenaries 6
Chapter 500 Mercenary 6
“ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!!!”
Ferguson screamed in pain.
The red-hot, red-hot branding iron just hit the top of the tight flesh all at once.
Grayish-white smoke came out from between the iron and the flesh, accompanied by a numbing sound of “ZiZiZiZiZi”.
A smell of burnt meat began to fill the air.
Doug, who was standing not far away, couldn’t help but cover his nose.
The prison guard in charge of administering the branding removed the branding iron by gripping the handle when he felt it was almost done.
“Well!” The moment the branding iron separated from the flesh, Ferguson let out a heavy groan.
He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced while his cheeks bulged and shrugged, and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and down his cheeks until they dripped off his chin and crashed to the ground.
Dark red marks appeared on Ferguson’s brawny arms, surrounded by flushed skin. The mark consisted of two parts, the top was a very graphic dragon head pattern, and underneath was the Horned Bay abbreviation of the last name of Gladman.
Another man in a white coat used a metal spoon to scoop out a spoonful of the gooey stuff from a tiled pot and applied it to Ferguson’s arm.
Ferguson instantly felt a cool sensation spread across his arm, which had been on fire just moments before, and numbness, which must have been from some kind of ointment for burns.
But it didn’t completely eliminate the pain, it still hurt.
“Gulp!” Doug, who had watched the whole thing, swallowed a big gulp and felt weak, his turn was coming next.
When he was scrounging for a living as a mercenary in Horn Bay, he had also severely tortured his enemies, among which was the delightful torture method of branding iron, but he had never imagined that he would use it on himself.
The warden put the branding iron back into the red-hot stove to heat it up, and within moments beckoned him toward it, “Come on, Doug, you won’t get away with this one.”
Doug cursed mentally, his earlier suggestion of a tattoo instead had been vetoed by Erwin without a word.
He stepped forward with heavy feet, resigned to his fate.
Doug pulled out a wooden stick, ready to bite down hard with his teeth later to stave off the pain; he didn’t want to yell with no sass like Ferguson.
The prison guard asked expressionlessly, “Where’s the brand?”
Major Erwin allowed that they could choose the location of the branding, but it had to be easy to display.
Ferguson chose his arm, which he could usually cover with his shirt and just roll up his sleeve when he needed to see it.
“I’m here on the arm too.” Doug pointed with his left hand to the outside of the upper arm of his right arm, then opened his mouth and deadened the prepared stick, his teeth embedding themselves deeply into the wood.
The warden gripped the handle and took the re-heated branding iron out of the furnace. The iron was red-hot, and to Doug’s eyes it seemed to glow like the sun.
If you get close to the sun, you’ll get burned …… It must hurt, it must hurt ……
The brain very uncooperatively suddenly recalled several experiences of being burned in his previous life, which caused Doug to break out in a large amount of cold sweat early before he even began to touch the branding iron.
The warden held the branding iron and gestured toward Doug’s shoulder, and Doug’s body dodged uncontrollably a few times.
“Haha! Cowards of the Black Dogs.”
Next to him, Ferguson delivered a well-timed taunt, gloating with a “you get a good taste of that too” expression.
With renewed force on his mouth, Doug felt his teeth coming out as he gave the prison guard a look that he could start, then closed his eyes.
The warden’s hand leaned forward, quick, precise and hard enough to bring the iron into close contact with the skin on the outside of Doug’s upper arm.
The sound of “zip, zip, zip” resumed, and the same burnt smell as before appeared in the air. “Ohh Ohh ohh!”
Doug’s eyes widened in a flash, as if his eyeballs were about to pop out of their sockets, and the veins in the whites of his eyes were visible.
After a few seconds had passed, the prison guard withdrew the branding iron, and as he disengaged from the contact, Doug felt that his skin had stuck to the iron, and the fiery pain was immediately mixed with a hint of tearing agony.
He bent over slightly, the stick in his mouth baring to the floor, and a large amount of saliva flowed out of his mouth, mixing with the sweat as it crashed to the floor.
“Ha… ha… ha…”
He panted violently, as if it would make him feel better.
The white lab coat on the side also applied ointment to him.
“Alright, you guys go back to your dormitories and rest first.”
The prison guard who once again put the branding iron into the furnace to heat it up twisted his head towards them, signaling them to hurry up and leave.
“There are still a lot of people back there!”
The two men looked out of the room, there was a long line of people, all from the two mercenary groups, Black Dog and Rhino, preparing for the branding that would give them a degree of freedom.
All of the mercenaries had made the same choice as their leader.
………………
“Lord Graiman!”
Inside the lord’s office, Chief of Staff Schroeder handed Paul a thick stack of information.
“The mercenaries have been selected, please take a look.”
Paul took the information and casually flipped through a few pages, “So, all the mercenary prisoners are to be sent back to Horn Bay?”
Schroeder: “Yes, Major Erwin tested them, they were able to stand in the sunlight for an hour and maintain formation, no one rested or fainted, their physical fitness was up to standard, which has exceeded our expectations, and can considerably shorten the training time for them to be deployed to Horn Bay as soon as possible to carry out combat missions. Of course, this is due to the militarized management in our labor camps and the relatively decent food.”
“Okay!” Paul nodded, “The more people the better of course, give them a batch of armor and weapons and a sum of money as per the original plan, then the rest is up to them.”
“Huh!” He found something interesting, “Ferguson? Haha, Ferguson, Fergus, Fergus, Fergus. Schroeder, do you remember I have a knight named Fergus as well?”
“I remember.” Schroeder confirmed, “The name is very commonly pronounced, both in Corner Bay and Aldo.”
He immediately brought the conversation back to the point, “My lord, I think we should send a group of our own men to follow them, we can’t leave these mercenaries entirely to their own devices, they should follow instructions from the Northwest Bay.”
“Oh, of course!” Paul was very agreeable, “That’s natural, I’ve already asked the Instruction Department to select a group of good instructors to accompany them back to Horn Bay. It is to watch them, to manage them, to make sure they obey orders, and at the same time never to do such evils as robbing or insulting women, or it will be our honor they corrupt.”
“In that case.” Schroeder further proposed, “Isn’t it better to select a group of officers as well as cadets in the military academy to follow them there as well, so that they can experience a real war up close and watch how the armies outside of Alda fought, summarize their experiences and patterns, and compile them into a book to enrich our data base, providing valuable material for our army.”
“Ha! I was just thinking of that too.”
Paul said excitedly.
Both in terms of scale and quality, the war in Horned Bay was not comparable to the War of the Troglodytes in the previous years, and this war was a very valuable observation that allowed the Arda army to learn about every aspect of the army in this era.
He ordered, “Schroeder, go arrange this as soon as possible.”
A plea for votes!
(End of chapter)