Chapter 58: Return

It took a forced march for most of a day to reach the nearest camp. It was slower moving with the group, but safer and despite the fact that they were all clearly tired, they seemed to have gained a second wind with the promise of rest. The 'camp' was more of a miniature fort that reminded Michael of Roman encampment descriptions he’d read in books and seen on the history channel. There was a dug up trench all around it, a barricade made from felled trees behind that, guards patrolling the perimeter and even what looked to be a simple wooden watchtower near the center of everything. The relief on everyone’s faces as they were welcomed back into camp was clear, all of them except for Lance, whose eyes were down and his expression somber. Michael wanted to try and talk to him, but Lance, the scouts, and their prisoner were immediately taken back to meet with the Knight Commander in charge of the camp. He and the other Penitents were escorted by soldier guards to the center of the camp, where they had a number of Penitents of their own. There were around twenty of them, a few of them shooting dice, some wrestling, and the rest betting on who’d win the match. None were Taker penitents like they were. Michael and the others all sat toward the edge, avoiding them. “The dynamics here are fstrange,” said Davi as he sat on one of the few dry patches of dirt catching his breath from the long march. “The regular Penitents seem to be treated worse than us even though they think of us as the lowest of the low.” Pyotr shook his head. “We’re valuable. We may be scum, but we’re useful scum.” “But only because they trained us to be. Couldn’t they just give the rest of their people more training?” asked Ollie. “It’s not just that,” said Michael. “We tend to be more effective from the start. We have titles when we arrive here. We’re worth the investment. Besides that, the convicts already have basic training from earlier in their lives as Stent citizens. They probably just put them through a refresher and send them straight to the front to find use for them.” Michael paused for a few moments. “Did some of those fights we had seem easier than you expected?” he asked. Marcus nodded, a smile on his face. “Easy for me. I didn’t even have to leave the bushes.” “No, I know what he means,” said Pyotr. “We are fighting grown men mostly and we’re managing to hold our own and more, and that’s while being stuck in the bodies of teenagers. The training and the titles gave us more of an edge than expected.” Michael nodded. “I think some of the injections we had made a difference too. I’m stronger at sixteenish than a lot of adult athletes back on Earth.” Ollie nodded. “I’ve also notice I have a real advantage too,” he looked both ways conspiratorially, “I can shoot fucking fire from my hands.” Michael laughed. “I know, I know. Everything is different here. I just thought it was interesting that we seem to have a leg up over even the people from here. It makes me wonder what Takers did with whole childhoods before they were figured out. How strong they could’ve gotten with that extra knowledge and time.” “You think about things a little too much, my friend,” said Pyotr. “There are more important concerns right now.” “Like?” “Like if we are going to be able to sleep here, or if they are going to make us march all the fucking way back to the fort first.” ... They were, in fact, forced to go back to the fort before they would be able to rest. Luckily, they were able to hitch a ride on an empty wounded wagon. It would’ve been full, but thanks to Michael spending some time in the medic tent, no one needed transport any longer, and because that saved the medic who drove the wagon a lot of time and effort, even though they were Penitents, he offered them a ride. He had a control brand anyway, as did all medics, so it worked out well for the camp as a whole. The medic was less thrilled about being given the responsibility of all the gold and silver they were carrying, but it wouldn't have made sense to leave it in the camp with a wagon on its way out anyway, so the camp quartermaster insisted on it. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Michael didn’t get another chance to talk to Lance, nor did he learn if the prisoner they’d taken had any more information. That wasn’t something for him or any Penitent to know. The wagon reached the fort in the late evening, and Marcus and Michael roused everyone else that had fallen asleep, including the one remaining non-taker Penitent that had managed to survive. “You’re sure you don’t mind that I took your boy’s dice?” asked Marcus as they reached the fort’s front gates. “He wasn’t my boy. He was an arsehole that stole my food whenever he got the chance. I just stole some bread, that bastard raped a young farmgirl and bragged about it. Fuck him.” “Is your name Jean Valjean?” asked Pyotr. “Nah. Names Crick. Jean Valjean sounds like a fucking Swandian name or somethin. Who told you that was my name?” “Sorry friend. Old joke from our world.” “Whatever. I’m just glad I’m not dead.” The Medic escorted them to their tower as ordered by the gate guard. He saluted Bayle who dismissed him, and looked over all of them. “The scouts aren’t with you?” “We were sent back, along with this,” said Davi holding a letter. Bayle nodded, and took it, reading through it quickly and nodding. Michael caught a glance at it and noticed it was in code. “Good, a successful mission then. That coin is going to go very far.” He moved over to his large map and started making several notes in ink on different parts of it, subtly casting ink transfer spells to duplicate marks in some areas and move them to others. Michael couldn’t fully tell exactly why certain markings were being placed, they seemed very far from where he gauged them on the map. “You did well. I won’t have any work for you until I receive more information, so I’m going to loan you out to a different group. Tomorrow you can rest, after that you’ll be taken there by a branded escort.” They all managed a tired salute. Bayle returned it sharply. “Dismissed.” They made their way up the stairs of the tower, noticing some fresh faces on the floor below theirs. No taker Penitents, but another handful of press-ganged Stent criminals from what they could tell. They ignored them, and they made their way up to their beds. Michael was surprised to see that their beds and goods they’d left behind hadn’t been ransacked. “Weird. All my shit’s still here,” said Crick as he got to his bed. “New guys must be fucking stupid.” Michael loosened and removed his armor before pouring some of his canteen water into a nearby basin so he could wash his hand and splash a bit on his face. He was hungry, so he forced down a bit of hard tack and some salted meat he’d saved from the journey before brushing his teeth with charcoal and passing out on his uncomfortable pallet. He found it was much easier to fall asleep when you weren’t worried that half the room wanted to rob or kill you. The next day they all took their rest very seriously. Only Michael didn’t sleep in, instead waking at his usual time very early in the morning. “You’d think the new body would keep you from waking up at the ass-crack of dawn like an old man,” said Ollie sleepily. “Well, you know how it is, need to get up early enough to keep the kids off my lawn.” Ollie chuckled a bit, and rolled over to go back to sleep. Michael found that Bayle was awake again, or had never slept, and was still making marks, reading letters, and generally moving about. Michael saluted and waited to be addressed. Bayle didn’t even look up from his desk. “Now that the fort knows you, you can roam without an escort. Leave, and I’ll activate your mark until it scalds a hole through to the base of your skull.” Michael nodded. “I do insist you head to the infirmary first though.” “That’s where I was headed anyway, sir.” Bayle looked up for just a second. His eyes had no dark shadows under them, and his movements were full of vitality. Michael wondered for a moment if he had a recovery ability like him. He started to try and divine him, when Bayle interrupted his focus. “Hmmm, strange that I actually believe you. Either way, get on with it. Holt’s been saw happy lately, and I find soldiers tend to be quite a bit more effective if they have all of their limbs.”