Book 3 Ch 1: Southward

The rain was heavier than Michael had expected and he adjusted the waterproof tarp he’d bought to better cover himself. The road had been relatively safe, so he wasn’t wearing his full armor, just the breastplate with the helmet at his side.

Ollie had simply summoned a barrier over himself that kept any rain from touching him. He likely could’ve extended it over Michael as well, but of course he hadn’t offered. They were riding in a merchant’s cart that happened to be headed in the same direction that they were. Michael had healed the man’s gout and helped with a bite on his mule’s leg so he’d been more than happy to accommodate them. The merchant diverted his cart to the far side of the road so that a number of Swandian cavalry could pass by.

“What’s that? The fourth group of soldiers that passed or the fifth?” asked Ollie as he adjusted a sack of potatoes to his right into an armrest.

“Fifth,” replied Michael.

“They must really think the Cantalians are fucked.”

Michael frowned, remembering Tai’s, one of the twin leaders of Gemini’s, words when he’d told him he would be leaving. Hearing him yell that he was choosing to let so many of his former comrades die.

Ollie noticed his friend’s expression through the rain and tarp somehow.

“You’re not all that important, mate. Tai was just emotional. No one was having a good time.”

“That’s true,” admitted Michael. The ambush had been rough. Gemini had managed to handle it well, but the Burndan forces still managed to kill Devahn, Alvarez, Davi and a number of others. He knew he was making the right decision to leave. The gods themselves had told him what he needed to do. It was hard to have better support than that, but as always he felt a pang of guilt. He sighed and just put it in the pile with all of his other shames and regrets that he would be regularly revisiting as his Catholic upbringing required. At least he wasn’t finding himself wallowing in that particular pit as often lately.

“Oi lads, we’re about to reach Lakeside. You may want to hop off to avoid the merchant tax,” yelled the driver through the rain.

“Thanks Grant!” Michael hollered back, grabbing his pack and hopping off the back of the cart onto the road, followed by Ollie who glided just a bit to land softly. Merchants and those travelling with them were typically charged a higher fee to pass through and stay in any town or village in Swandia. Michael was still unclear on whether or not that was an official stance or simply the way the country worked, but either way he went ahead and prepared a small handful of coppers he hoped would suffice for himself and Ollie.

They reached Lakeside just a bit behind Grant and Michael’s low bribe proved sufficient as the guards waved him through after receiving the handful of jingling copper. Lakeside seemed to be a fairly bustling town even in the rain. A number of men and women in cloaks were walking quickly along the cobblestone streets to do business and a number of merchants were lined up at the stables to pay for their beasts of burden to be cared for and their goods properly stored. The buildings were the same as they’d seen throughout Swandia. They were mostly brick with tiled roofs in an oddly swooped style.

It was late afternoon and with the heavy rain there seemed little reason to get back on the road to keep travelling only to be forced to camp in the wetness and mud. Ollie and Michael walked down the main street in search of an inn or tavern. Luckily they came upon the ‘Fieldmouse’s Hollow’, which appeared to be both. They opened the door to walk inside and Michael felt a blast of warm air. The Fieldmouse was a busy place with a number of merchants, travelers, and even a handful of mercenaries all too busy drinking, talking, and generally cavorting to even react to them.

Michael moved over to the fire where a number of other people had hung wet clothes over a nearby rack to dry and added his waterproof tarp to their number. After that he approached the bar which had a man and a woman working at it. Both of them were older, and were very busy slinging ale when they reached them.

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The woman was closer and when she had a moment she slid over to them. Her hair was held back by a light blue bonnet, and in spite of how busy she’d been she spared them a smile.

“Welcome in boys, if you’re here for a room we still have three available, if you want an ale it’s two copper per cup, if you’re just here to dry off for a bit, that’s fine, but you ain’t staying overnight without paying, if you want food we have stew, stew, or stew.”

“We’ll take a room, two ales each, and some of that stew stew stew too too too,” said Michael with an affable smile.

“Coming right up, stew’s a half-copper per bowl.”

With that the woman slid back across the bar to address another customer’s needs. Michael and Ollie sat just people-watching for a few moments, and didn’t even realize when four mugs of ale and two bowls of stew were placed in front of them.

“Cheers,” said Ollie holding a mug up.

Michael tapped his own mug against his and they both drained nearly half of the first mug before they tucked into their stew. It was bland, but filling. Michael and Ollie both ate it in minutes, bland or no it was the first hot meal they’d had in several days. After a second bowl and finishing their ales they were both feeling much refreshed.

“How do you think the food in Old Hume will be?” asked Ollie.

“It’s largely coastal so… lots of fish? You hoping for some marsupials to eat?”

“Maybe… It’s pretty good. Hard not to overcook though.” Ollie raised a hand and whispered something and their empty mugs floated gently over to the lady bartender who grabbed them and winked at them as she put them at the back of the bar where a number of other ones were stacked.

“What do you think Marcus and Pyotr are up to?” asked Michael.