Some people carried stones in from beyond our camp. I placed them in a circular ring around the campfire. They could shield it from any wind, slowing the burning and conserving combustible material.
As I assembled the enclosure, the water arrived. We didn’t have any support strong enough to set the water-filled pots over the flames, so I piled up extra stones to one part of the circle to create a makeshift stove. It wouldn’t be as effective with the heat coming from the side of the pot rather than underneath, but it was a far better option than risking the pot tipping and dousing our heat source. Foolish mistakes like that happened all the time in survival scenarios. With a lack of stamina and judgment, you’d lose the ability to do things you thought you normally could. Even dumb accidents caused by careless slipups could be fatal in a life-and-death situation, so it was best to eliminate as many contributing factors as you could.
I’d been able to save three pots from the wreckage of the empire. All of them were filled with water taken from the river, which I now boiled using the campfire’s heat. The refugees waited with bated breath as the temperature slowly rose.
Outdoors, you could never drink water straight, no matter how clear it looked. Unpurified water carried a lot of pathogenic bacteria and harmful microbes in it. Imbibing any of it almost guaranteed illness or death. You always had to filter it, get the garbage out, and boil it before drinking.
It was fortunate, at least, that our camp was located near a river. Without a stable source of water, our situation would have been far grimmer.
“Potesara, you said you were an innkeeper, right?”
Potesara looked up from the crowd at my call. “Yeah—what about it?”
“Can I leave the pot with you? There was lard in the things you all brought. You could probably fashion a soup with it, at least.”
He nodded several times, eyes glittering. “Leave it to me. Can’t make much here, but as soon as I’m done, you get the first helping.”
“I’m grateful for the thought, but give it to the children and sickly first,” I replied.
Potesara and some others made an Oh, right face. “I’ll do that,” he agreed. “That’s all right with the rest of you, yeah?”
None objected.
“Thanks. I still have things to do.” Gathering some available stones, I got to my feet. “This is about when people’s stamina will be running out. If you’re tired, don’t push it; take a rest. I’d like those who can still move to help me with something.”
Six or seven young men and women raised their hands.
“Good. I want you to take these rocks and pile them up in several spots, each a short distance away from the ring around the campfire. Make it so that they’re slanted toward the fire.”
As I’d asked for as many rocks as could be found, we had quite a few left over. The piles went up quickly with all the help.
While those who’d volunteered worked, I left to go check in on Mizuho and Troach. The two seemed to be fast asleep, nestled next to each other in the blankets.
Savakan was sitting beside the bed and looked up as I came near. “Thanks for your help. Mizuho is looking a lot better.”
“That’s good to hear. Thanks—were you watching her the whole time?”
“I was worried.”
“Where are her clothes?”
Savakan handed over the bundle, still wet. Then, using her fingers to keep count, she began reporting on the other wounded people I’d asked her to find.
“Of the children, one has an upset stomach, one’s nose won’t stop running, and several have scrapes and bruises, but no major wounds. One of the older folk has some hip pain. I sent everyone who wasn’t feeling well over to the fire.”
“Thanks. You should make your way there, too.”
“Okay. I’ll wake these two up and take them with me.”
Upon my return, erected in four spots were stone piles slanted at sixty degrees about one meter away from the campfire.
“What are these for anyway?”
“Sitting against?”
The youngsters who’d erected the piles tilted their heads in confusion.
“They’re for reflection. The heat from the campfire bounces off them, making it even warmer,” I explained, unfolding Mizuho’s clothing and hanging them on the stacked stones. “And if you do this, we can dry laundry.”
That earned many impressed remarks, making me feel like I’d just become the presenter of some weekday daytime television show.
Survival life hacks taught by a former SAS member. That could probably work as a show. I could blur my head, put my voice through a voice changer… I tried to imagine that TV producer who had contacted me after my discharge and what his face would look like if he heard my idea.
As I started to mull over things I couldn’t do anything about, a nice smell drifted by my nose. I looked toward the campfire. Potesara had begun dishing out metal containers filled with soup from the pot. Someone seemed to have picked up all the things I’d scattered about earlier. I remembered tossing a bunch of dinnerware and cooking utensils into the bundles; I was glad they were proving to be helpful.
“That’s a pretty good smell you’ve got going,” I called out.
Potesara grinned in satisfaction. “When I asked if anyone had anything to eat, I got more than I expected. Scraps of bacon, old herbs, stale bread. Quite a bit, all told.”
The children took the first sip of their soup, then cried out that it was too hot, causing laughter to spread around the campfire.
“It’s a thin soup, and there isn’t much, but if I keep adding water and ingredients as I go, we should have enough for everyone.”
No sooner had Potesara said as much, relief plain on his face, than I heard Mizuho shriek, “What?! Huh?! What is this?! Why?!”
She had regained consciousness, stood up, and was staring hard at Troach.
“L-look, it’s not what you think!”
“What isn’t what I think?! Why am I naked?!”
As Mizuho held a blanket up to her chest and tried to move away from Troach, Savakan made an attempt to calm her. “Mizuho, calm down. Troach was trying to help you—”
“Troach? Help me?”
Mizuho blinked her eyes.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Y-yeah, that’s right, I was trying to…”
“Really? You weren’t trying to violate me because you didn’t have the chance last time?”
“O-of course not! Well, sure, something like that may have happened before, but—”
“I knew it! You beast!”
“I told you, this time is different!”
I breathed a sigh of relief at the exchange. That Mizuho felt well enough for such a back-and-forth was a good sign.
I leaned back against a pillar a short distance away and sat down. Even I was a bit tired after all that. As I basked in the comforting heat coming from the campfire, I zoned out, trying to recover my stamina—when just then, a child came over to me. He was a boy who must have been four or five.
“Mister!”
“Hmm?”
“He said to give you this.”
In his outstretched hands was a small metallic cup. It wasn’t soup inside—it was a slightly brown liquid.
“Thank you… What is it?”
“Tea!” was all the boy said before he went back.
I brought my nose up to it and caught a fragrant whiff of roasted nuts.
“Potesara! Are you sure I can have this?” I questioned.
He answered, “You’ve done enough to deserve it, Taiga!”
Did I? Well, I hope so.
I brought the cup the boy gave me to my lips and took a sip of the hot beverage. It was completely different from the black tea I knew. The flavor was foreign to me, but not displeasing.
I was pretty sure Mizuho was the only one who knew I drank tea. Had she told him while I was away, or had Potesara just put it on for me as a show of appreciation? Regardless, I was grateful to have it. I took my sweet time savoring this first cup since being spirited away to this world.