Something tells me when I left that field hospital I had enough morphine in my blood to kill a horse. By the Wordsmith how was I walking. I think that Beast bitch fractured my jaw when she hit me. Shit, I doubt they would give something more to dull the pain, selfish bastards.

Surprisingly no one has come to my tent to wake me up. Haven't slept this late in well... ever. I roll to the side and grab a thin cotton shirt and a pair of pants. There is no way they are actually giving me a day off. In fact, the more likely outcome is that someone is letting me dig my own grave in order to justify giving me some terrible task. Yeah that's it.

The sun is high in the sky, noon. Thankfully the brigade brought plenty of canvas to create shade around the camp. It's not so bad, but it's dangerous if you're not drinking water pretty much every hour or so. No clue how these Beastman are surviving this heat, got to be magic.

*Grrrrrr*

There’s my stomach to remind me that I haven't eaten in 24 hours. They should be serving lunch by now.

A large hunk of bread and a bowl of stew loaded with various 'goodies'. At Least it's enough carbs and proteins to keep healthy. Good on you Chef Corps.

Walking around carrying my food I look for a table to sit. Its surprising to see so many sitting and having a meal. Guess the Brigade hasn't started diffusing yet. Annoying, guess I can eat in front of my tent.

"Hey Postman!" Me? "Postman who was in the tunnels yesterday come here man!"

Oh, I guess they do mean me.

A table is calling out to me, soldiers wearing their fatigues casually. All the folks on it are bandaged to hell, some of their faces look familiar too. Guess it wouldn't hurt to sit with them. They push together making me a seat.

The wounded soldiers reach across the table and introduce themselves by shaking my hand.

"The names Richard, me and my fellows here were in those damnable tunnels yesterday."

Richard, a dark-skinned man barely older than myself, but much much taller. He like the rest of the soldiers keeps his face and hair clean shaven. His hand is rough, not unused to hard labor.

Richard keeps shaking my hand while speaking

"I can't believe only forty-two of us even made it out. Wordsmith knows I'm thankful that I was one of those forty-two."

What’s this man’s point?

Adopting a small smile, I reply, "Don't think anything of it, you would do the same thing. "

We weren't even there for them, but it doesn't hurt to take credit for happy little accidents.

Richard smiles brightly, "I wouldn't be too sure, but that kind of brings me to the point of bringing you over." He scratches his head while reaching into his pocket and grabbing a sergeant’s patch. "Our regiment was disbanded. The few of us who can still fight have been promoted, any time you need some extra bodies me and the boys here will get you as many as possible. Make sure to pass on the offer to the other postman who helped out."

I can do that, " I don't know if i'll ever take you up on that, but I'll make sure to pass it on."

Richard lets go of my hand, finally. The rest of the time was filled with small talk, sharing memories of the dead and also talking about family members, more specifically how much they miss them. Not much i could relate to. Surprising how much bread and brothy soup can fill one’s belly.

I found Oak later on in the day. i told him about the group of soldiers offer. He was surprisingly interested. So intrested in fact that he immediately went to talk to them. Although he did tell me that the Colonel and Lieutenant General needed someone to interrogate some prisoners. Surprisingly, I'm one of four in the camp who can speak the Beast tongue.

The command tent occupies a central location, its foundation lies on the rocky stone that sometimes finds itself on the surface of the desert.

Even dressed as I am, I decided that I should go offer my translating services to the two officers. The guards were the same as the previous day, so they let me in with little fanfare.

The integration went smoother than one would think. A Beastman Male with a large rack of antlers sprouting from his forehead was the target of our questions. Thankfully do to the feudal nature of the Beast's society, peasants such as this one has little loyalty to the lords who levy them to war.

The whole thing was basically a wash, but we did manage to confirm that with the last attack almost all of the mages are out of mana. Lieutenant General Hadrian was especially glad to learn this as he was going to have to keep quite a large reserve if any mages could take to the field. Now the enemy will feel the entire weight of humanities forces.

After the interrogation some battalion postman, Coddled children more like, were given messages to deliver around camp. The battalion was set to attack the two lost outposts and to also push from the third. A lot of people are going to die. Thankfully I won't be one of them, well at least for today.

Oak, Joseph, and I were given a week to rest and recuperate. Not that any of us are resting. We almost all died so we took as much time as we could learn from the mistakes we made that battle.

Still, Oak has been giving me additional lessons separate from Joseph. He mostly focused on stealth techniques. The veteran Postman seems to think that it'll be real useful in the future. Scouting can fall under a postman's obligation, but there is no way someone would use such a valuable asset in such a risky way.

I ate those words at the end of the week.