Book 2 Ch 49: Cantalia

The first leg of their journey back up through Swandia was a simple one. Gemini had several wagons and donkeys for travelling long distances and the roads were all safe for a group of armed mercenaries. They did get a number of concerned looks from regular merchants and travelers as well as the occasional question by groups of Swandian soldiers travelling the same roads, but after a quick conversation they were sent on their way with no issues.

As they began to get closer to the border with Cantalia, the terrain grew more treacherous. They seemed to be far below sea level in an area where all of the runoff from the mountains in the East collected in the thick mud and dirt. That combined with the cooling temperatures as they headed north led to what Michael could only describe as a cold swamp. It was muddy, misty, and miserable. The roads were all built of raised stone and relatively well maintained, but camping on the soft boggy mud on the edges of stagnant pools of water was a special kind of unpleasant.

The only thing that made up for it was the amount of colorful plant and animal life. There were curious lemur-like creatures that frequently tried to steal their food, a number of iridescent beetles with antler-like horns, and flowers that gave off a kind of beautiful sickly sweet stench that Michael was certain meant they’d kill him if he ingested them. It didn’t quite make up for waking up a foot deep in mud nearly dragging your tent into the earth with you, but it helped.

The border between the two countries was carefully marked by crossing stations on either side. The Swandian one was manned by a number of men wearing the Ochre coloring of their military. They seemed very well armed and armored, though he also noticed a few of them chatting casually with, who he guessed, were Cantalian soldiers at the other station.

The Cantalian soldiers were wearing segmented breastplates, light metal caps, and very high boots, most of which were stained nearly to the top with mud. In general they were armored more lightly than the soldiers Michael had seen in other countries, though that may have been just how they dressed at this particular outpost, or it may even be that most of their more heavily armed soldiers were at the northern border already. He watched them a bit more as Lys spoke with each of the border outpost representatives and realized that every single one of them had a set of small leather flasks buckled at their waist as well as a large pouch at their waist.

“What’s with the flasks?” asked Marcus, beating him to it.

Devahn looked over. “Oh those? Filled with goblin piss. They love the taste.”

“They’re different alchemical draughts,” said Clara punching Devahn lightly on the arm. His wince told Michael that her rings hurt quite a bit. “Cantalia has more herbalists and alchemists than anywhere else. It’s what they’re known for.”

Michael nodded. It made sense given the large number of unique plants he’d seen as they approached the border. If the trend continued throughout all of Cantalia then it was the most biodiverse place he’d ever been since he’d arrived.

“What can an alchemist actually do?” asked Pyotr. “Ours just gave us the aging shots and strength draughts. Painkillers sometimes, though with Michael around we didn’t really need them.”

“Well to start they can age a person with the right materials and strengthen their bodies,” said Devahn.

Clara punched him again. “You don’t need to make fun of people trying to learn new things.” She turned back to the rest of them. “They can speed healing, fight infection, cause pleasant feelings, help you sleep, and help with most diseases. That’s the kind of thing just about any alchemist can do. On the higher end I’ve heard of potions that can kill a man’s fear, increase their strength ten times what’s normal for a short time, make a person appear dead for several days without consequence, or even lotions that can make one impervious to flame, or give one hardened scales. That’s not even mentioning the poisons.”

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“Kind of makes it sound like Crim was shit at her job,” said Ollie.

“She was shit at her job for other reasons,” remarked Davi. “Incompetence is lesser to maliciousness.”