The Journey is never-ending; there will always be growth, improvement, adversity…

Pre-Fall quote

As Johanna opened the tent’s flap, she was greeted by white dots swirling down from above. It looked as if the snow was finally arriving in this early December of 2173. Thankfully, they were only a couple of days away from the city of Zahl, according to the map. The snow did not look like it was going to stick – yet. But if it did, they would only get delayed a little.

She shivered a bit. For once, she regretted a bit being a full fire sorceress. She was immune to fire, sure, but she expected to encounter a lot less fire than cold. Until, maybe, once they were in the Central States. Winters south were supposed to be a lot warmer, after all. And summer likewise.

She heard grumbling from behind and turned her head, spotting Tom trying to bury his head in the sleeping bag.

“Wakey wakey, Tom. Besides, Peter’s probably bored standing watch.”

“I confirm,” the voice said from the side, where she spotted the man huddled next to the last embers of the fire, not yet completely smothered by the light dusting of snow.

“Making fire,” she announced as Peter plunged into Laura’s tent.

She started the fire quickly, putting a tarp above to protect it from the light snow, and immediately started heating the pot with her hand, not bothering waiting until the fire started properly. She cooked breakfast faster that way.

As the other three huddled in their tents, while she prepared breakfast, she reflected on the trip. After that scare with bandits – or maybe bounty hunters, who knew? – the rest of it had been peaceful. No Changed beasts, even when crossing the small Narrows that lay between the Northern Barrier and the patches of mana zones south. Back in Valetta, banditry was rare, more like a tale to frighten children rather than a common occurrence.

Those bandits had caused a brief spike of fear, but unlike the army soldiers back at Kootenai, who had wisely kept range, using the relatively open forest border, those had tried to fight in close quarters in the thick of the forest. The worst had been that bandit who tried to knife her while staying out of fireball aim… but she’d dealt with him.

Breathing hot, burning steam in his face, causing him to claw at the red, already peeling face, was a surprise as much for her as it had been for the bandit. Yet another Talent to add to her ever-expanding repertoire. She’d have to check once she found a copy of the Mages, but something told her she was not going to find it. That was the kind of magic you wrote novels about, rather than being hidden in a footnote.

She had debated on whether or not to bury them. But they did not dare risk staying any longer, in case others came to check what happened. So, they put them between tree roots in the forest, for the wild to reclaim. They all offered a small prayer, for even bandits deserved mercy in the heavens.

Three days later, they crossed – possibly, probably – the invisible line that separated the Marches of the Montana from those of the Dakota. An invisible border that marked, truly, the end of their former lives.

From then on, they were in the unknown.

With, of course, the familiar, as she shook – gently – the tents to warn that breakfast was ready and groans came from Laura and Peter’s tent.

The walls of Zahl were visible almost immediately as the road came out of the forest. A light dusting of snow covered the plains, but the road remained visible.

They reached the western gates with less than an hour of sunlight remaining. Two guards waved them in without asking any questions.

“There’s the main inn, Timothy’s, near the center. Can’t miss it. You can find a smaller one near the east gate, but they’ve got more or less the same prices,” one elaborated.

The guard was right, as the brightly colored mug-and-bed sign was unmissable. Timothy’s Rest and Ale, the sign said, in front of the large three-story building. It even had a small park area for carriages to the side, albeit empty.

“Another inn”, Peter said.

“We should have been enjoying a nice relaxing winter at home. Back in Valetta. This feels like we’re always on the road, never stopping anywhere,” Johanna sighed.

“We’ll make our home somewhere where no one will come for us,” Tom replied.

“Catherine didn’t think it likely. But yes, we will make our home. Somewhere. Somewhen.”

“Meanwhile…”

“Welcome to Zahl!” the man behind the counter said.

He immediately added, “It’s rare to see new travelers around this late in the season? You’re heading to the Montana?”

“No, we’re coming from there actually.”

“Oh. Wow, that’s a first for December in a… decade? The last time we had a caravan come from there that late was 2164? Something like that?”

“We’re just simple travelers, not a caravan.”

“Even more.”

“Does this mean we get a price?” Peter asked.

“Don’t push your luck. You already arrived at your final destination, after all,” the man replied, half-laughing.

“And does this destination include warm drinks?”

“It does all kinds,” the innkeeper confirmed.

Zahl’s main inn was quite large. But then, Zahl was a fairly large city, Valetta-sized if not larger, and the westernmost of the Marches of the Dakota. Tom, Peter, and Laura immediately grabbed a table while Johanna negotiated prices with the innkeeper. Their money, grabbed when they were drafted, was slowly dwindling with each stop, as they resupplied and rented rooms.

The inn’s rates were reasonable, and unlike White Meadows, the innkeeper had no problems automatically applying a progressive discount rate over time if they needed to stay long-term.

“Classic weather here. It’s usually after this third snow that it sticks around. Unless we get a weird warm spell, it’s there to stay and the roads are going to be almost completely useless soon. Local roads, sure, with enough regular traffic. But roads to the North, Lostwood, or Vanhook? Forget it.”

Johanna tried to jog her memory.

“That last one’s on that Missouri river, right?”

“Yea. Not far from the twin ruins bridge.”

“Twin ruins?”

“Places of the Ancients. People holed on the west side during the Fall, I think, then the place got overrun by Changed beasts. There’s nothing left there these days, and even the Changed don’t haunt there, I’m told. But the Ancient bridge still stands today, despite everything.”

Johanna made a mental note. Even if the man said the roads weren’t passable, after the mana zones and the road from Cattlemen Glory, the four of them might have a different idea of what was useable and what was not.

Room keys in hand, she dropped on the chair the others had kept for her.

“Innkeeper says we’re probably there for the duration.”

“What does he know?” Peter said.

“Probably more than we do, but I thought the same. Prices are reasonable, we can stay holed here for a couple of months if necessary. Provided we don’t overspend.”

“Like repairing clothes again?” Tom said, eyeing the hastily-made patch on his shoulder, where the arrow had hit.

“That’s the kind of stuff nobody ever says in the novels. Heroes’ clothing is always so perfect,” she replied, half-smiling.

The innkeeper arrived at their table.

“Want dinner early? The inn doubles as a tavern, and it’s going to fill soon, with longer service.”

Johanna consulted the others with a look and nodded.

“What’s on the menu?”

“Main is lamb stew and potato mix.”

“Sounds good. Ale?”

“Light or dark? We also have a cherry-flavored version.”

They all picked their favorites and immediately went upstairs to dump their backpacks, as the dinner would be there in fifteen minutes.

“Another day, another hot real meal,” Peter said.

“Weird potato mix, though. Wouldn’t have mixed it with yams,” his wife noted.

As for herself, Johanna had somehow enjoyed the dinner and light ale. The apple crisps covered with honey that was served as a dessert were also a bit weird. The inn-slash-tavern was also slowly filling, people – locals, presumably – coming in for drinks and even some stew too.

She slumped in her chair, sighing.

“Tired?” Tom asked.

“Somewhat.”

“Want me to freshen you up?” Laura asked, raising her finger inquiringly.

“No. I mean… it’s been so many weeks, running in the wilds, worrying at every corner. It’s not being tired-tired, it’s about being tired. If you know what I mean.”

“Want to go?” Tom asked.

“I’m good. I’ll just huddle under the covers. They looked nice. And thick.”

She rose and lightly kissed her husband.

“Try not to wake me up. See you all tomorrow.”

Douglas Moore kept watching for odd stuff in this new small town. The older innkeeper, for instance, was labeled a Keeper, which, upon inspection, turned out to be a directly improved form of the Guardian specialization unrelated to any inn, with 17 Strength and Perception along with level 6. He’d managed to spot one Wood Shaper, the expected Perception/Authority elemental version for Shapers, although the fact that the woman was wearing a leather apron and hawking customers along a commercial street obviously hinted at the lack of any actual skill to accompany the spec.

And now, I could actually fix that. If needed.

Then he pulled Tom's sheet as he did routinely a few times per day, checking for any deviation in mana regen or anything similar, and Douglas Moore non-frowned, in the emptiness beyond the world when he saw the “global pool” experience numbers.

Where did that 4500 XP just come from? Not that I’d complain about getting some extra, but why? They haven’t fought anything in town.

Then he spotted the new option popping out from the side of Tom’s window and he realized he had finally enough XP for a new option.