The trek south was long and monotonous. The first day was accompanied by a cold drizzle, just too strong to ignore as they put one foot in front of the other, down the eastern trade road. When evening came around, the scouts that were staying ahead of the convoy found them fields or large clearings near the road that they could encamp on, quickly setting up tents or huddling under the carts to keep away the rain.

On the second day, the train suddenly halted without explanation, continuing on twenty minutes later. After an hour, the reason for the interruption made it to the adventurers at the rear through word of mouth: A direbadger had come dashing out of the forest that bordered the road on both sides, attacking one of the banners near the center. Their attention dulled by the tedium, the soldiers took too long to defend themselves and two of them were grievously wounded. Thankfully, the mages’ coaches hadn’t been far, so they were handed over to the healers within minutes.

“That’s an upside of all this, I suppose.” Major Gerrack said. He and Amos were walking at the front of the battalion, alongside Edwin’s party. “With the healers right in our camp or even just behind the fighting, bleeding out on the field is less of a risk.”

“How was it before?” Salissa asked.

“The healers had to stay back roughly a kilometer at all times,” Gerrack answered with a sad shrug. “That’s quite a distance to carry a wounded comrade.”

“Why?” Leodin said. “That’s dumb.”

“Because mages can’t take part in combat,” Edwin answered. “Well, couldn’t, I guess. In the old world, healers weren’t even allowed to care for soldiers at all. I think the reasoning was that readily available healing would trivialize being wounded and encourage nobles to fight among themselves.” Edwin snorted. “As if they needed encouragement. After the Exile, in the early years of the Volarki Wars, the healers petitioned to have that interpretation changed. The Council and the Inquisition came together and found a compromise: Healers were allowed to trail an army at a distance and open a field hospital, as long as they stayed far enough away that it was obvious they didn’t belong together. These hospitals were, at least in theory, open to all, which meant that they couldn’t turn away civilians or even enemy soldiers.”

“It’s all so complicated,” Salissa said, frowning. “They’d rather let people die than change their stupid rules?”

“Yes.” Edwin said. “The College’s first priority is to prevent a second Mage War. It may seem silly for us today, but that’s because it’s hard to imagine how cataclysmic it was the first time around. Cities were burned to the ground, entire regions were depopulated, sometimes in abhorrent magical ways that made reclaiming them impossible for decades. As many people as are living in the Three Duchies right now would die every two weeks or so. The Tyrants created horrors so vile that any mention of them was scrubbed from the history books, in fear that someone might try and recreate them. That’s what they worry about, not a few hundred soldiers dying from mundane wounds.”

Salissa creased her brows. “Sure, I guess, but how does letting mages heal people lead to that?”

“It doesn’t, not directly,” Edwin answered. “The rules were made draconic on purpose. Anything even remotely having to do with magic harming people was forbidden, because the first Inquisitors knew that these rules would soften over time. If a hundred things are forbidden, allowing one thing doesn’t change much, right? But if you do so, people will come complaining that you’re being unfair and that their thing is still banned. So you end up allowing one thing after the other, and fifty years later your prohibitions are a shadow of themselves.

“Look at what’s happening right now. Even if we assume that the ringleaders used assassinations and threats, there would still need to be a sizeable portion of the Marrad College on the side of the warmongers for this to go through. Ever since the College’s founding, there have always been one or two mages trying to change the way things work, but they were always found and neutralized without accomplishing anything. And now, less than a century and a half since we got here we’re in an all-out war with mages on both sides? That’s not a coincidence, but a consequence of relaxing the rules.”

“A well-founded explanation!” Lord Amos commented with an eager smile. “Are you, by chance, a scholar as well?”

“I dabble,” Edwin said, resigned. “When I was growing up, a friend of mine loved history, especially anything to do with the kingdom. Personally, I am more interested in the history of magic and the Pioneers.”

“Really? Then maybe you can answer some questions that I have been wondering about for a while…”

While Edwin was cautious at first, Amos’ cheery conversation made the long march much more bearable. The young man really was exceptionally knowledgeable in his chosen field, which was one that Edwin hadn’t cared about much before now. Walter had been a mage, why care about the wars of mundanes that he would never participate in?

Two more times in the following days the convoy stopped due to monster attacks, the long line of soldiers and carts attracting every beast in a wide area, but the adventurers never even got to draw their weapons. Instead, Edwin answered some of Amos’ questions on the inner workings of the legendary Lichbane cohorts, elite units made up of veteran soldiers and battlemages who faced down and killed the Tyrants, leading to the eventual victory of the living.

In turn, Edwin learned about how warfare had changed throughout the ages, from the time of the empire, the barely remembered continent-spanning nation that would ultimately be broken apart by the Tyrants, the centuries of relative peace in the kingdom that came to an end in the civil war that had forced their ancestors to flee to the New World, the mad scramble to defend against the Volarki, far away from the familiarity of home. And finally the conflict with Marrad, a long, cold war of small skirmishes and maneuvering, accented by a few large battles where ambitious commanders had dreamed of ending it all with one stroke.

Much of it was very specialized, only interesting due to the very unusual situation they found themselves in. Had someone given Walter an hour-long explanation of the different uses of cavalry by long-dead lords hundreds of years during his time at the College, he would likely have paid little attention. Now, however, even the surrounding adventurers who were generally less scholarly inclined hung on the young man’s words.

Speaking of things that interested him helped Amos pass the time as well. It was clear that the young noble wasn’t used to marching long distances, and even though he didn’t carry a pack of his own, by the time the afternoon rolled around he started to struggle. Still, even when his legs and feet clearly pained him, he didn’t give up and ride on one of the carts, which he easily could have. Edwin was impressed, and he could see the same sentiment in those around him.

As their feet ate the miles, marching down the wide, cobbled road, they drew ever closer to their destination. Finally, more than a week after their departure, Edwin crested a hill and spotted the distant spires of a city, twinkling in the last rays of the setting sun.