"Ron... Ah, God, my hand hurts so much... Help me change the dressing."
The weak voice sounded amidst the echoes of rain battering the stone walls, causing Colonel Ron, who was focused on studying the map, to smirk.
He put away his map and tossed a few logs into the campfire before turning around to help the pallid Fraser up from the marching blanket.
The latter was in bad shape.
Even the slightest touch made Ron feel Fraser's burning temperature, and based on his experience in the Maginot field hospital, he could deduce that Fraser had likely suffered a wound infection, or worse,
those damned Filthy Jackal People used the Evil God's powers to contaminate his good brother.
But Colonel Ron couldn't alleviate Fraser's pain at the moment, so he retrieved the still one-third full bottle of alcohol from his psychic package, opened it, and let Fraser take a sip to help maintain his sanity.
