When the Royal Army started to fight, there were four figures in the shade of a tent a little distance from the enemy camp.

'I'm going to kill one enemy, take his equipment, and change my clothes, so I'm going to go for a while. You three stay here.'
Patrick said and walked off as normal.

There was no patrol, so he simply took one of the men into custody, stuck a knife into his neck to choke him out, and walked back behind the tent.

'Okay, get this guy's gear off me.
As Patrick tells him to do so, Mirko begins to remove his equipment, and Patrick removes his own leather armor.

The shape of the armor was slightly different between the Royal Army and the Territorial Army.
One particular difference is the branding on the breastplate.
The Royal Army has the national coat of arms as its motif.
For the territorial army, the branding is a simplified version of the family crest of the lord of the territory.
The imperial army is the emblem of the empire.

Patrick had changed his armor just in case he was discovered.
He put on the armor of the Westin Territorial Army,
'I'm off then. The three of you wait for me at the running dragon so we won't be spotted.'
Patrick said lightly and stepped out from behind the tent.

He passed several people, but none of them looked at him suspiciously.
No, it's doubtful they even recognize him.

Is there anyone you know who is very shady?
Someone who is there, but for some reason is surprised when you speak up, or someone who is the only one who doesn't get handed out things that should be handed out to everyone?
People who see things but don't remember them.
You know someone like that, right?

Well, Patrick is even more terrible than that.

'Is it here?
Patrick muttered to himself as he looked at the tent in front of him, guessing the direction that the cart carrying what looked like food had come from, from where the cart was coming and going.

Inside, there were quite a few barrels and bags.

It looked like wheat, dried meat, and dried fruit.
Patrick poured the oil he had brought in the barrels over the bags of wheat and went around.
Then he lights a match, the world's favorite tool for lighting fires (there are no lighters, of course, and the common people use flint and those who can afford it use matches. ) He lit the match and threw it into a bag soaked with oil.