Handing a bowl of barley porridge to Anthony, Hall sat down by the fire.
Anthony glanced at the steaming barley porridge, its surface a mere white liquid, barely visible with a few grains.
Yet inside the barley porridge, there were a few pieces of meat.
Not minding the heat from the freshly poured porridge, he gulped it down in one go.
His throat bobbed several times as the barley porridge in the bowl was consumed completely.
Holding the clay bowl in his hands, Anthony said solemnly, "Is the food gone again?"
Hall hesitated and said, "Sir, it ran out two days ago. The remaining barley can only make such thin porridge..."
Anthony acknowledged with a sound, his eyes fixated on the flames in the bonfire.
The bonfire's flames leapt in his eyes and across his face.
Hall's words were still hesitant, "Lord Anthony... continuing like this... is not a solution!"
"Without food, morale will crumble. Continuing like this... the team will disperse!"
At this point.
