Five minutes had passed since Marvin volunteered, and the crowd of soldiers was getting anxious. Many of them had sat down on the road, waiting for Kaplan to choose two more people for the scouting mission. Despite his injured leg, Rolf bounced on his heels restlessly. Greg scanned the crowd, eyeing each of the soldiers, while Marvin sat silently at the top of the stairs, looking at the ground.

“Oh, to hell with this,” Rob said, grabbing Schmidt’s arm and raising it above their heads, dragging him to the front of the crowd. “We volunteer, Robert Fiedler and Barry Schmidt!”

“No, I don’t—”

Kaplan gave them a sympathetic smile. “Zank you so much.” He looked at the crowd of soldiers. “You are all dismissed, get back to your posts.” As the other soldiers dispersed, Kaplan continued. “You should know what to do by now, just head west and report what you see. Do not get ‘urt like the others did, we can not afford any more injuries right now. If you are not back within seven days, we will assume zat you are dead. Any family will be notified, your possessions will be auctioned, so on and so forth. Zere are basic supplies packed with your ‘orses, and Ms. Vogt will lend you any medical supplies you need. Please do not die.” Without waiting for a response, Kaplan walked away.

“Welcome to the party, Mr. Robert, Mr. Barry!” Greg said, holding his hand out.

Rob took it enthusiastically. “Happy to be here, Mr. Greg.”

“Please, call me Gregory. Gregory Herrmann.”

“Call me Schmidt. And actually, I didn’t volunteer for—”

“Oh come on Barry, this’ll be fun!” Rob pat him on the back. “You’ve been complainin’ about how slow things have been goin’, this is your chance to do somethin’! If you find somethin’ important, they might even name it after you!”

“That’s not—”

“It is too late to renege now, for better or for worse,” Greg said, watching Kaplan enter his tent in the distance. “Now then, Marvin, would you be as kind as to aggregate any medical supplies we may require from Ms. Vogt? Simultaneously, myself, Mr. Robert, and Mr. Schmidt will check the saddlebags to ensure we have the appropriate materials.”

“Sounds good to me, man! Let’s get started,” Rob said, clapping Schmidt on the back again.

“I still don’t see why you think this will be fun.”

“Oh lighten up, will you? Besides Hannes, Rolf was the only person that’s gotten hurt on the last few missions, and he barely sprained his ankle. Think of this as a vacation from soldier duty.”

“The last mission didn’t come back,” Marvin mumbled as he left for the medical tent.

“We don’t talk about them!” Rob called back. “It lowers morale!”

“I like you, Mr. Robert,” Greg said as they walked to the horses. “You have spirit. That is something a lot of the people around here seem to be lacking. You could learn a thing or two from him, Mr. Schmidt.”

“Well that’s where you’re wrong, sir,” Rob said.

“Rob, he’s a soldier too, you don’t have to call him sir,” Schmidt interrupted.

Rob ignored him. “Barry here has the most spirit out of anyone I’ve met. You should’ve seen him in Dijon! He fought alongside me and Captain Bösch against the Crimson Beans and held his own! Captain Bösch had to yell at him before he retreated, and even then he returned on horseback to save him! I have complete confidence in Barry, as a friend and a soldier.”

“Admirable tale,” Greg replied, rummaging through one of the saddlebags. “That does not mean he has spirit, however.”

“Why the hell not? Where else can you prove your spirit than in battle?”

“Mr. Robert, you seem to be confusing spirit with valor. Valor is courage in the face of adversity, whereas spirit is concerned with the characteristics of one’s morals. You have spirit; you are willing to volunteer yourself for a hazardous mission without the threat of imminent danger as a catalyst. That is much more arduous than throwing yourself into a skirmish and returning alive. Even that Marvin fellow has spirit, despite the apparent lack of self assuredness.”

“What’s so important about spirit, though?”

“Who would follow a man without spirit? I certainly would not,” Greg said, closing the last saddlebag. “But that is sufficient talk of spirit and valor; we can talk all we want on the mission. It seems we have adequate supplies. If you wish to bring anything else, I recommend that you get it now. We leave in ten minutes.”

Rob held his hands out in front of him. “You’re not gonna defend yourself, Barry? I know you—”

“I got the supplies from Ms. Vogt,” Marvin mumbled behind Rob.

Rob visibly jumped. He took the small bag of medical supplies from Marvin, adding it to a saddlebag. “Anyways, Barry, aren’t you gonna defend yourself?”

Schmidt stood, focussing on the horse in front of him. It was a nice chestnut color with white patches scattered down its neck. “No,” he said, patting the horse’s neck. “I don’t think I have to.” He could hear the men outside Dijon dying, the muffled screams as they suffocated, the beans from the abnormal Ashen Bean impacting the ground, but petting the horse made them quieter. It might’ve been the repetitive movements or the softness of the horse’s coat, but it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that he stopped thinking about Dijon.

“Defend himself?” Marvin asked, also patting one of the horses.

“Mr. Gregory thinks that Barry has no spirit! Can you believe that?”

“What’s so important about spirit?”

“That’s what I said!”

“What part of ten minutes did you three not discern,” Greg said, laughing. “Prepare to leave, we are abating valuable time here! Remember, we only have a week before they sell our belongings, and I am quite fond of… some of them.”

Schmidt thought that this was going to be a long trip.