Warm hands wound around his neck, and another wet kiss landed on his cheek. “Must you go?”

“Quel, I mean this in the best possible way, but you are insatiable, woman.”

“I know.” She whispered in a saucy purr into his ear. The points of her breasts poked his bare back, but Frank untangled himself from her and started dressing. He’d had quite enough fun for one visit. And it had been: fun. Among other things.

“Do come back, will you Frank?” The near nude woman called from the bed. He knew it was just part of the service, feeling wanted, appreciated, but he was grateful anyway. It was a good show, a great fuck, and he would be coming back. Besides, he’d even gotten a bit of business down during foreplay.

The Confederation was sadly lacking in terms of tantalising under things for women, but Quel? She made up for it in body paint. Amazing, edible, sweet body paint that went well with fresh milk. Fresh from the source, one might even say.

It wasn’t really his thing, but Frank had been curious. It was alright. Not something he’d be going for again, it was a lot of sucking for little reward. He preferred his milk in a glass. He knew it wasn’t the point for the people who were into it. But as he’d found out, he wasn’t one of them, some fantasies notwithstanding.

Deli was sitting in the hall outside, weaving. She’d gotten a small weaving kit, and was glaring at him as he came out. Frank was surprised to find here there.

“Weren’t you in the kitchen?” Frank asked, tightening his belt.

“The kitchen is full of waiting patrons.” She told him, curtly.

He could see how that could make her uncomfortable. “They didn’t bother you, did they?”

Her eyes flashed: “They didn’t. You, however, sound like a rutting animal.”

“Well you wouldn’t have heard that if you weren’t trying to listen in.” Frank answered. Quite reasonably, he felt. “I did tell you, you didn’t have to come with me.”

Deli packed up quickly. He’d seen her fingers fly through the strings while she’d worked. Not all her Skills were terrible.

“Parties stick together, to taverns too. Last thing we need is for something to ambush you without your pants.”

“Oh, no. Whatever would I do?” Frank drawled, starting to grin.

“Probably burn the house down, knowing you.” She slipped in, and he felt that one.

She wasn’t wrong. He would try to burn it, and inside a wooden home…

She got up and he picked up his staff, and threw on his furs. It felt silly, but better to have them, than not and need them.

They went down the stairs, Frank waving the next patron through, and then down to the basement. Frank would have preferred staying out of the cramped tunnels. Because they were open, all over town. When Grut had said the tunnels were sealed, he meant the lower tunnels. The first layer connected basements all over town, which were filled with storage and growers doing their work.

Only the batches raised and guarded under constant watch of the Reclaimers would be used, for all there were many cellars full of them. The demons liked to poison them, for unwary fools.

So into the cramped tunnels they went. At least each was short, just as long as a street was wide. They had little choice. It was day six since they got to town, and outside it was a total whiteout. It was a strange day, spent mostly in the dark, inside, in homes and tunnels, with Bones knocking on windows. The doors were buried in snow.

Some of the more potent warriors were still sweeping the grounds even in this, but they still stuck to house walls and barricades, the immediate surroundings. Jumping out of windows and from ambush to break some Bones and pull them inside, to be dealt with.

Frank knew a lot more about the Reclaimers now. The thing about rumours? They weren’t plots. No one was trying to lure him into something, or trick him. People were just talking. And if he and Deli were the subject of some of those rumours, so it was. Not that her coming up while he was occupied would do them any favour there. He was pretty sure at least one loudmouth he’d seen in there would soon be spreading the tale of how the two of them had gone to Quel for a threesome. Or, as it was known in the local tongue, that “they like to share”.

He’d grown inured to it. Deli ignored them, and so did he. It wasn’t his first instinct, because in most cultures, rumours were and could be destructive, to a life, a reputation.

But here, it was like a mix of a sport and news. Everyone told rumours, and everyone embellished them. The sport was, knowing how to weed truth from tale. But since everyone knew that everyone embellished, they were just rumours.

No one would judge another on them. If anything, they served as a kind of classifieds. If one person started asking about a service, like say, a professional in bed, the spreading rumours of his interest would soon reach the right ears. If the rumours of said woman being open about sharing her affections didn’t get to him, before he even asked. As they had.

Frank was out a stone, but as long as it stayed warm, he was welcome back. More, he had a lead about a man that could solve one of his issues.

“Why did you actually come up?” He asked, as they walked past a firekeeper grower, watering a garden. He greeted them and they returned the polite greeting as they passed.

Navigating underground wasn’t easy. Frank had to stop and ask for directions a couple of times, but there was always someone within earshot to help.

After a few rooms, Deli answered: “They all asked after her. But after, they asked if I was up for it.”

He gave her time to put her thoughts in order.

She looked conflicted.

“It’s flattering.” she said, pausing. “I’m simply not used to the attention.”

Frank looked back at her. It was one of the changes since getting to town. Deli didn’t wear her snowmaiden cloak anymore. She hadn’t put on a skirt, but she wasn’t a snowmaiden anymore. He wasn’t sure what the exact reason for it was, and didn’t want to pry. He didn’t think she’d taken a man to bed. No, he had a feeling it was a statement that she was ready to, if not looking for one. There’d been rumours about her before Last Light too. But childish things, none had been crude or lewd, like now.

Actually, he felt a bit ashamed on the topic. Their rumour mill was filled with stories that were better sex education than schools back home. It was a small reminder that while they were simple people, they weren’t lesser.

***

“You cannot just barge up to a Master Hunter Frank!” Deli warned him as they got to the hunter’s hall.

Looking around, he found his target, then did. Deli was trying to stop him, but wasn’t about to actually pull him back, and short of that, he wasn’t stopping. He expected the glares, they hardly slowed him down. Frank took the time to wave a greeting to Deadbeat, watching him with a pleased smile. They’d made up as friendly acquaintances, but he wasn’t in her party anymore. Or her interests.

“Not until you prove your party can stand on its own, Mageling. Then we’ll talk.”

Frank was aware of the other option. If he failed, she’d take that fire burst personally. Like it came from one of her subordinates, not from another party leader going after a missing member.

A large man, with a heavy beard and a wild moustache turned from his piping hot meal to glare at him with the hatred of a thousand suns. “Quel says you’d appreciate one.” Frank told him without breaking stride, dropping a working warming stone on the table by his plate. “I can tell when they start weakening, at least a quarter ahead. That shouldn’t need a check-up for at least fifteen days, on my life.”

The words were said with confidence, but he was aware they weren’t a joke, or a saying. A crafter supplying a warrior was responsible for their craft. The man wouldn’t kill him if it failed, but he could expect the beating of a lifetime. If the warrior died due to it failing, he could expect worse.

“I’ll keep a replacement ready for you, day and night.” He quickly continued. Then Frank dropped his last three blanks next to it, as the Master Hunter chewed on a fried leg, looking disinterested. Frank still felt like he was looking down the barrel of a gun. He didn’t miss the fact that for all his eyes were almost closed as he ate, under them the man was sharp and watchful.

“Need more blanks to practice my craft and improve the carving, and the magic.” Frank bowed in respect, introducing himself at the end:

“Caravan Fire Mageling, rooting the far west corner.”

Then, while the man was still chewing, he turned on his heel and left, pushing Deli in front of him. Once they were clear of the small lunch room for the scouts and the unfriendly looks, Deli hissed:

“What was that?”

“That was a very busy man, and my elevator pitch.”

“I swear, man, some days you speak in riddles and tongues.” She said, irritated, and lightly punched his shoulder.

“But we didn’t get thrown out, or a shift of punishment duty, so you must have done something right.”

“I listened Deli, that’s all. Prostitutes know their customers, and while they’ll keep their secrets if they have any sense, they gossip like the rest of us.”

Really, with how today was going? Frank was pretty pleased with himself. He had a spring in his step, and Deli noticed. “You’d think it’s been months with how you’re swaggering.” She complained.

“Come on, Deli. Think before you speak.” He gently reminded her.

After a moment, he heard her pause, before hurrying to catch up and changing the subject.

It was alight. Frank hadn’t had any since the fire. But things were changing, oh yes they were.

***

Deli looked doubtfully at the stick in her hands. More of a partially carved branch, not a proper staff. What it did do, was mimic the weight and shape of an axe-staff. Which they couldn’t currently afford.

“But that’s no reason not to start practicing.” Frank had told her.

“How am I to know what to do?” She asked, waving the weighted pole around.

They were in one of the empty warehouses, where many of the fighters trained in their off time.

“It’s not that complicated, for a beginner. Fortunately, you have me.” Frank grinned at her. It may have been just a bit mean. She deserved some warning of what was coming.

***

“This is embarrassing.” Frank sighed in defeat.

Deli was covered in sweat, but he hadn’t touched her once. He was fine to keep going, but it was true, two points of Agility made a world of difference.

“Well, my compliments to whoever trained you. You know how to read an opponent, and dodge damn well.” and it wasn’t all talent and Abilities. Her Skills may have been low, but she had them.

Putting on a truly, exceptionally solemn and commiserating tone, Frank told her: “Truly, only one trial remains ahead of you.”

Approaching her with a grave face, Deli took him seriously. He helped her through the motions of a proper stab, and several swings, start to finish, and back to guard.

Just because he didn’t have a general polearm Skill, didn’t mean he didn’t have skill. He’d just never felt the need to polish something like it into a general martial mastery when his weapon was a spear. It was still a polearm.

“Do you remember each movement?” he asked, still faux-overly serious, and looking forward to this.

“Yes, Frank!”

“Show me!” He barked.

She worked through the moves, strike and back to guard, each one graceful, despite her tiredness.

“Excellent, excellent.” He told her with fake pride.

In the most casual tone he could, he instructed her. “Now do a thousand of each.”

“WHAT!”

“You’re right.” He mused. “Make that two thousand.”

“What! BUT! I!” Half panicked, half outraged, Deli glared at him.

“Unless you have better things to do then hone your edge, Axemaiden!?” he asked in his best drill-sergeant voice.

The snap in it went straight to her spine. “No, Sir!” she shouted and started doing them despite her dishevelled condition.

Frank joined in with his staff forms. They were really spear forms, but the staff worked well enough. “Just have to remember the point is blunt, not sharp.”

Health = 26/42

Mana = 3

They were back to a reasonable condition, and their first patrol would be tonight. Not outside, they didn’t have the Body, or the gear for it, but patrolling the empty surface tunnels of the rest of the town. Looking for dead, new openings, or demons and their tricks and sabotage. Frank was also hoping to see some of the tunnels going up to the walls. From what he’d heard, there were no rune lines on top of the walls. So they either had to be built into the structure itself, its foundation, or in the tunnels.

The tunnels linked up with the towers, and those were his best bet.

***

Deli had recovered better than him, with her Oath boon. With four points of recovery to his three, she was up to 36 Health. Between the better armour, more Health, and better recovery speed, she was up front, playing shield and anvil. Not that she carried a shield, but if Bones did show up, they’d back up to the nearest clear room and deal with them at the chokehold. Without getting themselves in a position where it was easy to block them into a cramped tunnel. Both their weapons needed room to swing.

Deli had a proper axestaff. With how the Winter Winds were blowing, the caravan master had given up on pushing on. The snows were already another two marks deep, compared from starting out from Last Light.

It was done. They were wintering here. With that in mind, the arms merchant had been willing to extend credit, with word from the Reclaimers that her and Frank were part of the guard and patrols. It would take her a while to pay it off, but she had it today, and that was what mattered.

Swinging it around wasn’t Stamina cheap, and she was still better with her dagger. But those were no weapon against Bones. She’d had a small hammer for that, but she hardly needed it anymore.

The axestaff was a wicked thing, carved of the same wood most weapons in the Confederation were. Not of the Eternal Tree itself, but of saplings taken from it. They were grown in the centre of each town. It wasn’t quite as potent against bodiless dead, but did more than well enough when put against Snow Shades.

Its head was a large axe, not like a halberd, but an actual axe blade. It was more like a battleaxe from an RPG, just at the end of a polearm almost long enough to match his height upright. Frank was pretty sure regular wood would break under the strain of swinging that thing around and hitting things. On the back, it was spiked, but not a full spike, more of a short, squat one. Reinforced, meant to break armour and pierce tough shells or hide, where the blade failed.

He’d tried it himself. Without Strength three, it was unwieldy, much like the Legion spear. He could swing it, but every swing would leave him open. He needed that extra thing. It was hard to describe, now that he’d lost it. But the difference in Strength two and three wasn’t just strength. It was something, something he never really thought about after coming to this world. At Strength two, he had to consider and manage his own momentum. It could be trained, learned, and practiced, but it was still something he did.

At Strength three, as far as he could remember? He never had to worry about it, consider it at all. Frank had lost a bit of Health to injuries while practicing his forms, from overstrain, or pulling a muscle, except not, due to Health. But that never used to happen to him with Strength three, or almost never.

Without that help in managing momentum, the weapon was unwieldy.

Deli didn’t have that problem.

It still didn’t help that the two of them were well matched to fighting outside, not in cramped tunnels. At least the rooms were big enough. But it was their turn, so into the dark tunnels they went. With his stones in their caps, they didn’t have to worry about the light. He’d trade one point of mana for being able to see, any day. And he had a feeling he could have powered up more of them. The light should last a good while too.

Frank had never needed more than one, as only he could use them. He was lucky to have a spare from the session carving that one. Deli had stitched them into their caps with ease.

Health = 26/42

Mana = 7

***

“Somehow, the old saying from Earth still applies.”

“What?” Deli asked, hearing him muffle a snort.

“A saying from back home.” He told her, as they left yet another empty room, for another empty corridor, to another empty room. Going from one seal to the next, checking them one by one and on guard for any demons. They’d heard plenty of skittering in the dark so far, but no takers.

“Soldiering is nine parts boredom, one part pants shitting terror.”

Deli looked at him in disbelief. Nearly open-mouthed, she asked: “We’re deep in unsecured tunnels, checking on seals holding back the dead, surrounded by demons and far from friends, and you’re bored?”

“Well, then you put it like that…” Frank replied defensively.

It wasn’t that bad. “Was it?”

“Are you at least alert, or have you been daydreaming about my ass back there?”

Frank snorted. “I keep such day dreams to my own time, not patrols, thank you very much. I’m a responsible watchman.”

“You’re a pest.”

“That too.”

That got a snort out of her.

“Still around, still waiting.” He told her softer.

She may not have been able to make out the quiet skitters and patters of feet coming from behind them, and the side tunnels, but he could. When they got to the next doorway, she put the axehead through, and scraped it above the entry. A bottle fell and shattered on the ground, spilling something truly foul. They backed up, and waited for it to disperse for a minute.

“How many do you think fall for it?”

“No one twice, I’d guess. Even if it doesn’t somehow hurt, you’d be a pariah until you washed, and in this weather?”

She nodded firmly. The noxious cloud slowly faded. They moved on to the next seal. This one was a steel gate built into the side of the basement in the room after, a spiral staircase down visible through the bars.

Bars which should have been further blocked. They both tensed.

Less than a heartbeat later some trash piled up along the corners of the room blew up and the Bones were on them.