"This kind of potion is more suitable for casters which could help them in condensing their mental power better. We do not have them here, unfortunately," said the division jarl apologetically.
Casters? Condensing mental power? What did it have to do with impetus cultivation? Why'd Angelina recommended it to him?
The jarl recalled that Locke had heard these two medicines from someone else and explained, "This potion can help improve the strengths of a knight greatly. But they're only available in the logistics department in Falcon's headquarters. I can get it for you if you need them." The division jarl looked like he'd just suffered a heavy loss.
By the look of his face, Locke knew that this will-condensing potion was more precious than Strengthening potion. He didn't know when he would get his hands on this potion in the future if he'd missed this great opportunity. He then grit his teeth, hoped that the division jarl wouldn't hold a grudge against him, and accepted his offer decisively. "Well then, thank you so much, George!"
Locke had accepted the offer delightedly, but the division jarl, on the other hand, was suffering. It was as if he'd had a piece of his flesh cut off, but it was okay for him to lose one or two pieces since he apparently had plenty hanging off his body.
During the night, the camps of Falcon and Lion were brightly lit. There were torches and soldiers patrolling everywhere.
With a division jarl like George leading the way, no soldiers stopped them for checks throughout the camp. The size of the division jarl's body was akin to his access permit; he was probably the only one so hugely built in these two corps.
This stronghold of seventy thousand was rather large. There were rows of tents along the way, each ten metres in height and housing a ten-man squad. There were at least seven thousand tents in total.
Of course, that wasn't all. Platoon jarls like Locke had their own personal tents.
Other than the large tents, Locke was also impressed by the fortifications and barricades outside them. Several catapults and siege rams sat quietly in the corner of this enormous camp.
Locke had only passed by a small area of the camp. He couldn't imagine how many siege weapons there were in the two corps combined.
There were several rows of sharp and durable barricades surrounding the camp. They were probably used to stop the desperate citizesn from the royal capital of Shalor.
Locke couldn't imagine how much manpower and resources it had taken to build the barricades to enclose a populous city of approximately a hundred thousand.
He used to be an ordinary soldier. He'd seen these things before, but never thought much about them. He used to work hard every day just so that he wouldn't die in the battle on the next day, and he'd be satisfied if he had black bread for dinner.
As Cardoj stood beside him while talking to the division jarl, Locke realised that he was now a platoon jarl and not an ordinary soldier anymore. He stared deeper involuntarily and thought more of the future.
George, noting that Locke was staring at the rows of barricades in the distance, he introduced, "We've spent a lot of effort to build these barricades. We had to drive away 80 thousand Shalorian slaves and it took a month for the entire logistics department of the Falcon to wrap everything up."
There was a sense of pride in the division jarl's words. It was a populous city of a hundred thousand people, and they'd successfully enclosed it with nothing but their fortifications and troops.
Locke was thinking about the eighty thousand Shalorian slaves, which was surprisingly more than Falcon and Lion combined, and that they've been subdued by the armed Faustian soldiers. He didn't know whether this demonstrated the strength of the Faustian army or the cowardice of the Shalorians.
Locke had a very strong sense of worry, otherwise, he wouldn't have joined the army decisively when there was still food at home. He was someone who'd do whatever he wanted, and he'd wanted his parents and his sister to live a decent life. George and Cardoj were still chatting beside him, and Locke was thinking about improving his skills in the meantime.
He didn't want to be like the Sharlorian slaves who had been driven away like livestock.
The thought of it had made Locke more confident. George was still bragging over there, still oblivious to the further loss coming his way.
A chill ran down George's spine. He looked around and didn't find anything strange. He then continued bragging to Cardoj about his great achievements.
George realised that Locke was a relatively quiet and boring person, but his superior, Cardoj, was very talkative. George started being friendly towards Cardoj as he felt that it was more worth it to befriend Cardoj rather than Locke. Locke was still a soldier under Cardoj after all.
Cardoj was very flattered by George's enthusiasm towards him. The only other elite contact he had was Margrave De Sandro, as well as some other nobles present at the prince's banquet. But they weren't close, he'd just introduced himself to them.
George's initiative to start a conversation showed him an opportunity towards becoming an elite. To be honest, Cardoj was not a talkative person. Everyone close to him knew him to be a cold and rational noble.
But once he had a goal in mind, he could really talk. Both of them even burst into laughter from time to time during the conversation.
They arrived after a while of walking. There was a huge difference between the logistics department of Falcon and the 2nd Division. The one at Falcon was more cheerful and high spirited than the one here.
There was a four-meter-high and six-meter-wide gate in front of the logistics department, and it was more spacious compared to the one at the second division which only had the size of a small courtyard.
It was already eight or nine at night, but it was still quite lively here, with there being two to three carriages entering and exiting the gate at any given time.
George stopped chatting with Cardoj and brought them to the entrance of the logistics department.
Although it was night time, it was surprisingly bright in the huge courtyard. There were not only torches placed in the four corners of the courtyard, but also several large braziers in the centre to brighten up the place.
If George's normal stride wasn't already large enough, now it was even larger, as if he wanted everyone to note his presence. The ground trembled as he walked.
Unsurprisingly, it played out as he had hoped. All the soldiers and officers who've met George along the way greeted him. After all, he was the next-highest-ranked noble after the corps jarl and the deputy corps jarl in Falcon.
George seemed to be enjoying the attention he was getting. He'd only hum a response to the greetings and continue to lead Locke and the others to a place that looked like a warehouse.
There were many warehouses here. George brought them to one warehouse that was relatively secluded but was surrounded by numerous torches and a watchtower.
Those in the logistics office looked at Locke and the others who were following behind George curiously. Nobody had seen them before; even Cardoj, who was backed by Margrave De Sandro, had only been here once or twice, let alone Locke and Yoshk.
The warehouse wasn't as bright as it was outside. The dim light made it difficult for people to see what was in there. Only a soldier could be seen pushing a trolley and transporting the goods around the warehouse.
Other than that soldier, Locke could sense a few auras from far away. He felt that they were all at least mid-rank Knechts, and he wouldn't be surprised if there were high-rank Knechts there. After all, this was the logistics department of Falcon, the lifeline for the whole army.
They walked towards a counter that was located on the left side of the warehouse. "Pete! Old Pete! Come out!" shouted George as he slapped the counter and rushed through the curtain behind it.
An old man with silver hair then lifted the curtain after a moment and walked out. He was dressed very neatly and behaved meticulously. He reminded Locke of Cardoj's butler, Johann.
"What's the matter? Why are you here at a time like this?" asked the silver-haired old man with a smile.
"Well, I'm obviously here because it's serious!" The division jarl's eyes widened. He wasn't trying to intimidate, but rather joke around. It seemed like he had a close relationship with this silver-haired old man.
"Just say it, what do you need?" Pete could tell that George had brought the group of people behind him here to get something.
"A will-condensing potion," stuttered George, the blubber on his face trembling as he spoke.
The silver-haired old man stared at the division jarl and said, "George, I didn't know that there's a caster in your family now." The silver-haired old man called his name directly, it seemed like his rank was not much lower than George's.
The division jarl grinned awkwardly and explained, "This is for supporting a junior who showed good potential." George called Locke his junior, implying that Locke shouldn't forget about his senior once he became successful in the future.
Pete looked at the people behind George. He must be talking about Locke as he looked the youngest among all of them, being the only one there below thirty.
He looked at Locke several times as if he wanted to remember Locke's face. The silver-haired old man then rang the bell and shouted, "Fina! Go to Zone B and get me a blue potion!"
"Got it!" A female voice replied from the inside.
Soon, a blonde woman emerged from behind the curtain holding a small wooden box. She then handed it to the silver-haired old man.
He didn't give the box to George immediately. Instead, he took out a notebook and handed it to Fina who was beside him. He then turned his head and said to George, "Are you sure about this? That's three months' salary down the drain--"
"Yes, I know, I know. I know what I'm doing." The division jarl waved and interrupted, "Did you really think I wouldn't be able to live without it?" insisted George, as if to save his face.
Pete was relieved as he recalled the family business of the division jarl. He was indeed someone who did not lack money.