They took a brief break a few miles up from the dead troll, and Michael found himself surprised to be shivering a bit as a cold wind blew in their direction from the East. He looked up and saw a number of dark clouds heavy with moisture. He looked at Lance.

“Is it normal to get this kind of weather?” he asked.

Lance shook his head. “We sometimes get cold winds like this from the middle-sea at the capital, but this far inland? No, this is very strange.”

He looked at Francesca who was sitting close to Davi, drawing his thick wool uniform jacket tightly around her shoulders as she shivered a bit from the cold.

“How about you? Any weather like this happen in Tusinia?”

She shook her head. “Not this far into summer.”

Michael frowned. “How many summers have you spent here, in this world?” he asked.

“Twenty four,” she said. “And I had to grow up the slow way. Of course that means I won’t rapidly age and die like the rest of you.”

“That’s a myth,” said Lance. “We had a governess at one of my father’s estates that had been aged by the witch water and she didn’t age any faster than anyone else. In fact she seemed very healthy.”

Francesca shook her head. “That poor woman. Probably forced to do unspeakable things for the nobility of Stent.”

“That doesn’t

happen.”

“Oh? You’ve never heard of such a woman being abused?”

He looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. “Those occurrences are rare. Most women are left to peacefully perform their jobs and are freed when they are completed.”

“And how many people do you know that made it to ten years?”

“I wouldn’t have met them! Most are placed in larger towns further from the capital once their service is completed.”

Michael held up a hand.

“Please, I didn’t mean to start an argument.”

He was curious about what Francesca was saying, but he didn’t have proof either way. There was propaganda coming from both directions and his own experiences in Stent had been very mixed. At the academy almost all of the students had treated him like a dog, but he’d met several reasonable and even kind people as well. Kline, Meera, Dugan, Marta, all had treated him fairly. On the front things were just as mixed, with plenty of the rank and file being sensible about thanking the man who healed them, but plenty of others being cruel. Bayle had been a decent sort, but he also seemed like he would kill him at the drop of a hat if it was good for Stent. If not for what had happened, he would still be there, serving his sentence. Maybe there would be something he'd be able to do for the takers that were still there at some point, but for right now the focus was on surviving to get that chance.

“Did you leave much behind in Tusinia?” he asked.

Francesca nodded. “Just about everything. The family that raised me after I was found to be a taker, the friends I’d made, my house, my cats.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be stupid. It was my choice. I don’t want to be relegated to finding holes filled with shiny rocks for them to fund wars for the entirety of my new life, there’s too much to see.”

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Davi scoffed. “Too much to see being different shiny rocks.”

“Shiny rocks that have no equivalent on Earth. Shiny rocks that are magical and make no sense. Also, not all of them are going to be shiny… I assume.”

“Well, it’s good to be passionate. I don’t miss my job back on Earth. Miss a lot of other things, but not work.”

“I wouldn’t mind being on the stage again,” said Pyotr wistfully. “Especially with these new young joints. I get to do plenty of dancing still though. It just leads to more things dying.”

“My job’s basically the same,” said Davi. “Cracking skulls and staying alive.”

“Thug,” said Francesca with just a hint of affection bleeding through.

“Hmmm, I guess I couldn’t do mechanical work anymore here,” said Ollie, scratching his chin. “No cars, and if there were my magic would fuck em all to hell.” He raised a hand and summoned a small orb of light that he had drift into the center of their little gathering. Heat began to emanate off of it, dulling the strange chill in the air. “Couldn’t do this back then though.”

“How about you Marcus?” asked Michael, seeing that he was pulling something from his pack.

“Do my old job here? Wouldn’t be the easiest thing to do,” he pulled several dark brown wool outfits from his bag and started tossing them to everyone. “Not like we’ve come across a whole lot of good shit for me to steal. Also no cocaine, which makes dealing a lot more difficult.”

Michael held the outfit in his hand and sighed. “This is what you were ‘bartering’ for?” he asked.

Marcus nodded as he began to strip. “Yeah, thought they’d help us blend in, but with this cold it makes even more sense to wear them.”

Michael shook his head, but he took the time to strip and get dressed. It wasn't like they'd turn around to return the clothes. Francesca went a little further into the woods, but the rest of them didn’t really care about modesty. It was a hard thing to keep in the army.

Michael found the wool to be incredibly soft, softer than cotton, but without any of the scratchiness he’d grown used to with wool back on earth. The dark brown color was a little drab, but considering he’d be wearing gleaming armor over it, that didn’t matter too much to him.

Once they were all dressed, they started walking again, finding that it was growing even colder as they walked. The cool wind was building from shiver inducing to feeling like it was actually cutting at them with the cold. After a few miles, snow actually began to fall. It wasn’t a heavy snowfall, but it was steady and very soon the road ahead of them was a sea of white and they were all shivering even with their new clothes and in spite of the fact that it should be the hottest part of the afternoon.

Ollie summoned another orb of warmth, and had it sit just above them. It melted the snow and made them a bit wet, but it helped more than it hindered and they were all grateful for it. Michael stepped off the path for a moment, and Lance grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.

“Be careful. That’s the edge of a frozen lake on that side.”

Michael looked and just saw more snow.

“You sure?”

He nodded. “My older brother nearly drowned falling into a frozen lake like that when I was little. My father smashed a crater when he dove in to yank him out. He taught us all how to look out for them.”

Michael nodded and walked a few more steps when Marcus very suddenly stopped and held up his hand.

“What’s wrong?” asked Pyotr, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Something’s off,” said Marcus, slowly reaching for the gun at his side.

Michael grabbed his swordhilt too and heard the voices of the divine start to build.

~mage~protect~shield~danger~

Michael moved quickly to Ollie and raised his shield in front of his face.

There was a bang from nearby and a bullet hit Michael’s shield and ricocheted into the snow where it began to smoke.

“Where’d that come from!?” asked Ollie as he raised both of his hands and created a shield around all of them.

“Just a guess,” said Marcus as he raised his rifle and aimed it, “But probably from that super menacing guy.”

They all looked where Marcus was aiming and saw a large dark shape approaching them. He was wearing a long dark overcoat over a silver breastplate and wore a wide brimmed hat that had gathered nearly an inch of snow on top of it. The man had a rifle in his hands that was still smoking from where he’d fired it, two knives nearly long enough to be swords at his hips, and several small clay pots belted at his waist. Michael couldn’t get a great look at his face, but could tell that he was pale, nearly the same color as the snow around him, and he was smiling widely.

Michael knew immediately what Marcus had meant when he’d described the man’s aura. You could just sense that he was strong. He drew his sword and shield and took a moment to divine him, trying to guage what kind of opponent they were up against. Gold letters gathered quickly and started to form a list, then kept forming it, then formed some more, until there was more information than he’d ever seen aside from when he’d trained against Bayle.

“Fuck.”