The old man shook his head. "Then good luck to you, boy."
"I'll be off, then," Beam said. He turned to Judas, the sergeant, and the soldiers. The men were ready to move with him. With one last glance at Nila, he left.
Rather than continue down the Elder's path, back into the village, he merely left it, and went in the opposite direction. It would be quicker to reach the camp that way, now that he didn't have anyone to meet in the village square.
The snow crunched underfoot, as Beam set off at a jog, and they quickly left the house behind them.
The soldiers and the sergeant matched his pace well, though they immediately found themselves needing to strain to keep up. For trained men, it was a strain, and for Judas, it was a near impossibility. He called out in complaint at only a short minute at such a pace.
"C'mon, you're gonna make my lungs burst!" He shouted, coming to a stop, with his hands on his knees.
Beam skidded to a halt, and considered him a moment. "We weren't going that fast. Besides, the camp is right up ahead. You couldn't have maintained that pace for another minute?"
"I ain't no runner, boy," Judas spat. "In fact, I bloody hate it. Running on the snow is even worse. Might be alright for a slight little thing like you, but I tell you there's a patch of ice out here that's gonna put me on my arse, and those kinds of falls are the ones you struggle to recover from – especially at my age."
"Perhaps I should run on ahead, then," Beam said.
"What's with the urgency? Didn't things go better than we'd hoped? We sped through that, we did, we've barely been out forty-five minutes, and we found all the kids. It's practically a miracle," Judas told him.
"It would be, had we not discovered evidence of a mage," Beam pointed out.
"...Mage or not, we don't need to be in such a hurry, do we?" Judas said. "We're just going to be wearing ourselves out."
He began his slow jog, which was more similar to a fast walk. He didn't make it more than a few steps before he glanced anxiously over his shoulder, half believing that they wouldn't be following him. And in truth, they weren't.
One of the soldiers sighed. "Damn peasants," he complained. "Give em' a hand of responsibility, and they act like they've been promoted all the way to Captain."
But despite his complaints, he started to run anyway.
"Ey, c'mon, ain't gonna be another time in my life where I get to have a Serving Class man like yourself listen to me, is there?" Judas said with a wide grin.
"I suppose not," the man admitted with a sniff.
Watching them, Beam thought he was starting to get a little bit of insight into how Judas had managed to get on so well with the soldiers.
With Judas leading the way, they made it back to camp without issue. Despite the nervous tension in the air, the camp was the same as they had expected. The torches were lit, the fires were going, and the men that were off duty were eating, drinking, and joking with each other.
Lombard was still out fighting on the northern front, from the sound of things. He was taking care to conserve the strength of his men, as he carried out their duty in their place.
Whilst he fought, Tolsey was left to oversee camp. A fact that the man seemed none too happy about, thinking that the Captain merely did not trust in his strength as much as he could have. But even as he thought such a thing, Tolsey reminded himself that it was his own fault. If he was stronger, if he was more useful, then the Captain would have assuredly found more uses for him.
Tolsey noticed the returning party, and was pleased to finally have something to do. He'd been standing outside the Captain's tent for nearly fifteen minutes, with his arms folded and his eyes scanning the camp for the slightest bit of trouble.
He couldn't allow himself to rest while Lombard was busy fighting, after all. His body simply could not relax.
As soon as his eyes met Beam's, he was marching over, a look of intensity on his face, pleased to finally be moving with purpose once more.