When Constantine arrived at the entrance to the military camp, the old Marshal saw squad after squad of soldiers running with heavy loads. These young men, who were but scoundrels just yesterday, are now vigorously training themselves. "I heard that Malin handpicked quite a few top-notch soldiers from his troops to serve as instructors," said Link from the Svenson family, who was responsible for guiding him today. This young man had entered the military camp last night and could be said to have witnessed the transformation of these troublemakers overnight. "Are they all young people who were initially sent to the North?" Constantine asked. He remembered sending many people to Malin and now they had become soldiers and returned to their homeland. Of course, most of them wouldn’t have too many fond feelings towards their former lords and hometowns... or rather, they had none at all. After all, their homeland and lords had betrayed them. In this aspect, Constantine would not resort to any deceptive tactics. Even though some within the military department were brash enough to entertain such thoughts, Constantine believed the only outcome would be representatives of the military department being hung by angry soldiers on streetlights. They were no longer people of the Northern Kingdom, nor serfs; they were Malin’s soldiers. Even if they killed a representative from the military department, Constantine was not afraid of what the soldiers might say when it came to a lawsuit. What he feared was the killing intent from Malin. If Malin were to take action for his soldiers, Constantine felt that even if the lawsuit went to the Deity, they wouldn’t be able to justify themselves. "Yes, I’ve seen them in Malin’s army. You know, most of them are destitute freemen, serfs sold by their masters, or poor souls who fled south from calamity. Their homes are now settled in Carterburg. If we were to do something, I’m afraid the guy in charge of the matter will inevitably end up with a bullet in the back," Link said in one breath, then smiled regretfully, "My apologies, Marshal, I’ve spoken too much." "No one would blame you. If it were me, I wouldn’t take on a job so likely to lose my head either. Life is so long, why seek an early demise?" After speaking his true sentiments, Constantine and Link stepped to the side of the road where they could see the old disciplinarian platform. It had now been converted into a vast drill ground, with many soldiers running laps around it. "Is this basic training?" "Yes, training the physical fitness of these soldiers; our front-line commanders have been somewhat neglectful." Link looked down, where the company and battalion commanders he knew were being led in laps by instructors from that army. "Look at the robust bodies possessed by those instructors, now look at our soldiers, utterly incomparable physiques, and yet we are all Northerners." Constantine took out a cigarette from his case for himself, then tossed the case to Link: "How often do you think they eat meat each week?" "At least once a day, and I’ve heard their rations include some specialty dishes from the Sydney Union and Farol Principality, like the fine wheat flour white bread from Sydney, the Thainan minced meat stewed noodles from Farol, and even fruit." Link took out a cigarette while stating an answer that seemed rehearsed. "Fruit? I remember those being quite abundant in the south of Farol and Sydney." Constantine recalled the fruits he saw at the local markets during his vacation in Farol. In the North, such fruits are more expensive than meat. "Yes, this is one aspect where we are no match, and also the soldiers have been complaining about the issue with the black bread from logistics a couple of months ago. Yesterday when Malin’s logistics unit arrived, the cheering from our soldiers was something I believe you have never seen before." As he said this, Link and the Marshal saw a troop of Domestic Fairies pushing several large barrels past them. "Soldiers, may I take a look at what’s in the barrels?" Marshal Constantine, recognizing the fortress insignia of Malin’s Carterburg and knowing this food likely came from those southern cooks, asked with a smile. The leading Domestic Fairy, noticing Constantine’s appearance, nodded: "No problem, but please, Marshal, be quick. We need to deliver this food to Drill Ground One, where the first batch is about to finish their meal and commence training. It’s almost rest time." "No problem, little darlings." Constantine approached the first barrel, opened it, and was dazzled by the sight of white bread, alarmingly white, far surpassing the so-called artisanal pastries claiming to come from Carterburg’s finest confectionery near his home... no, there was no comparison at all. "Link, do you ever feel stuff is whiter than a maiden’s pectoral muscles?" After closing the lid, Constantine sighed and glanced at his aide. "Sorry, Marshal, but I haven’t encountered such pectoral muscles so far." Link replied expressionlessly. Taken aback, the Marshal then looked at his aide, realizing that the young man from the Svenson family... isn’t even twenty yet. Though it sounded pitiful to hear that he hadn’t encountered that answer, considering it was himself who asked such an improper question, Constantine apologized anyway, patted his shoulder, and then led him to the second barrel.