Chapter 82: Keeping Busy

They did wake him for dinner, and after another night of rest they all enjoyed a breakfast on the castle walls together before Bayle rounded all of them up to head back to the fort. “No horses this time?” asked Ollie with a grimace as he rubbed his inner thigh exaggeratedly. Bayle shook his head. “No, they’ll need them for messengers and scouts while the Tusinians start to gather strength here again. We’ll be on foot, all the way back to the fort. After that I’ll be gathering information until we can head out to do more work.” “We?” asked Pyotr. “Yes. I’ve seen how all of you operate. It’s a waste to send you on more standard missions. From here on I’ll be working with you personally, or sending you on special assignments myself.” “Will all of them involve trudging through a mile of shit?” asked Marcus. Bayle smiled a bit at that. “More than you would expect. The good thing is you’ll have larger breaks between assignments Though I may send you on a few smaller jobs like titled hunts if they come up.” Michael raised an eyebrow at the thought of a titled hunt being a ‘small’ job, but he supposed that compared to sieging a castle and sealing a rift the characterization wasn’t entirely inaccurate. He lifted his pack and tightened the front straps with a quickly whispered spell. “Let’s get moving. I’m hoping to make even better time than we did on the way here.” They got on the road, and did seem to be making a good pace. When they reached the site of the battlefield where they’d fought the Carrion King, Michael saw small patches of green growing up where the ground had been trampled and even a small flightless bird nesting in the skull of a horse that seemed to have been picked mostly clean. It was still a rough sight, but seeing those small signs of renewed life made him feel better. He gently removed his icon of the divine from his neck and kissed it gently before saying a small prayer for the fallen. “What’re ya doing?” asked Crick as he walked beside him. “Saying a prayer for the dead.” “You think your gods followed you here?” “I didn’t have any gods to bring. Yours have been kind to me, though.” “Yer a Penitent. I don’t think the divine likes ya much.” Michael raised his hand and made it glow for a moment. “I get the impression they like me quite a lot.” “We don’t even worship the divine. At least, not really. I’ve said a desperate prayer or two, but it’s not all that important. Some of the more backward villages still hold a gathering sometimes during harvest, or maintain a shrine from the old times.” Michael frowned at that. “Why is that? I mean, you have people with divine powers and the Titles and Deeds are thought to be from the divine as well. Why not worship them?” “What for? They won’t give me anything extra for it.” “Are you certain of that?” He nodded. “Yep. Otherwise everyone’d do it.” “On my world people pray and worship all the time with no clear benefit, but I guess when there are some benefits maybe things become quantifiable in a way that actually makes it less likely.” “Uh. Sure,” replied Crick with a glazed look in his eye. “Do you know why your gods all merged into the ‘divine’?” asked Michael. It was a question he’d always wanted to ask at the old Q&As at the academy, but never got the chance. Crick scratched his chin. “Not sure. Just know it happened a long time ago.” “Do you know the names of any of the individual gods from before it happened?” asked Michael, remembering the shrine in the woods he’d encountered when fleeing from the aelven mercs. Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators! Crick shrugged. “Nope.” Michael frowned. It wasn’t normal to just forget gods like that. He was sure that some old gods of myth were lost back on Earth, but they weren’t real and tangible in the way the divine was. It seemed very odd that even the names of some of their old gods wouldn’t be common knowledge. Was something else going on? Some kind of magical or divine intervention? “Wizard did it,” said Ollie, slowing his long stride to walk next to Michael. “What?” “I recognize that look on your face, mate. A wizard did it, simple as that. Trust me, I am a wizard, so I know these things.” “Oh, well, obviously I accept all of the answers provided by the Great and Powerful Ollie.” “As it should be,” responded Ollie, making green flames appear for a moment around his face as he made his eyes wide. “You’re getting quicker with that kind of thing,” said Michael as the green flames sputtered out. “Well, we’ve been getting a lot of practice, and I’ve picked up some new deeds,” he held up a hand and a small square of purple shield appeared and folded into the shape of a paper crane. “I haven’t really gotten much more magicka to work with, but I’m figuring out how much I can maintain at once thanks to my title” he crushed the crane in his fist and made it disappear. “I’d be bigger than David Copperfield back home.” “Taller at least, I don’t know that you have the same charisma.” “Maybe I can magic some up.” “Let’s hope so, for all our sakes.” They walked for another few hours before finding a camp for the night. Like the last time, Bayle didn’t seem to sleep at all, and the next morning he roused everyone and got them moving again. They ran into a few messengers and small patrols, but it seemed that all of the Tusinian ones had been replaced with their own, so instead of danger they just had to deal with being ignored while those groups took the time to acknowledge only Bayle. They reached the fort after another full day and a half of walking. The tower was empty of other Penitents again, and they were all grateful to set their things down and take off their armor after marching in it for as long as they had. Bayle proved true to his word over the next week, and they were all left to their own devices while he continued to update his maps and notebooks, sending out frequent messengers. Michael spent his time healing in the infirmary, sparring with the others, and even practicing his magic more. He’d grown complacent with it, relying more on his other abilities, but seeing the kind of utility that Bayle had been able to get out of it, despite not being a mage himself, had made Michael realize that he needed to be more creative. He would never be able to throw fireballs or shoot lightning like Ollie, but there were definitely some simpler tricks he could learn. The first thing he did was start to refine his own small shield spell. He practiced it over his fists as he had in the past, but he started trying to practice placing it over his vitals or in front of his eyes quickly as well, having Marcus with his excellent marksmanship, throw rocks for him to block. There were some mishaps, but with his ability to heal himself the pain just acted as a good teacher rather than a debilitating problem. After he managed to block a pebble just an inch from his eye. He sat down to take a break, drinking deeply from his canteen. Marcus was juggling three stones with one hand when he sat next to him. “I like this training,” he said with a smile. “Reminds me of throwing stones at cars from the overpass.” “I knew you were America,” said Michael with a smirk. He shook his head. “Plenty of countries have overpasses, and I could be lying.” “Sure,” Michael smiled and wiped his brow. “When you ask the regulars about other countries, have you ever talked to them about Old Hume at all?” “Not really. I know that there’s a lot of trade with them, they share a large gulf with Stent. I’ve been focused mostly on Swandia.” “Could you ask around?” asked Michael. Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Are you coming around on...” Michael shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “Just curious.” Marcus nodded, “I’ll see what I can come up with.” After training with Marcus a bit more, Michael spent some time with Ollie trying to figure out a few more spells. Pyotr decided to join them, but Davi elected instead to do some training with Crick whose spear moves had thoroughly impressed him over the last week. Ollie dipped his finger into a small cup of water, and froze it entirely. “I don’t really picture cold flowing into the water, so much as all of the warmth in it leaving, being pulled away by magicka.” Michael gave it another shot whispering, “frio” under his breath, but managed only to get his finger wet. They’d spent all afternoon on it. He was remembering how he’d struggled to learn other spells back at the academy. Pyotr put his own finger into the water and took a deep breath out muttering something neither Michael nor Ollie could hear. “Fuck that’s cold,” said Pyotr pulling out his finger around which a small ice-cube had formed. “Good job,” said Michael, clapping him on the back. “What do you use as your focus? ‘Siberia’ or something?” asked Ollie. Pyotr smiled. “Katerina. She was the Prima of our company. I’d never met any woman so cold.” He looked at them conspiratorially. “Made me desperate to try and warm her up though.” They gave it a few more tries and by the end Michael had at least managed to cool the water significantly, though he couldn’t create any ice. A good start, and one that made a number of drinks a lot more potable. By the end of the week Michael and the others had felt far more rested than they had since they’d left the academy. Their movements all had a sharpness to them that could only come from prolonged rest and practice. Michael’s shield ability was more refined and he’d gained a rudimentary ability to cast some newer utility spells. Michael was grateful for the time, but it wasn’t long before he began to feel anxious to be back out in the world, his recovery ability always made him restless.