Christmas is the day that holds all time together.

Pre-Fall quote

The slow rhythm of the city under a foot and a half of snow quickly became grating. All winters prior, Johanna and the rest of the team had always found stuff to do. Even in the deepest of winters, in Anasta where they spent their time instead of scavenging, there were plenty of things going on at the family compounds. Fixing the house – which you never had time for during the growing or harvest seasons – and pickling goods, and more. You had plenty of free time, but it was in-between work. She guessed that even in Valetta, they would have had plenty of busy work, with their home to improve.

Here, they had very little to do. Staying in the inn most of the time made them quickly stir crazy, notably Johanna. Yet, there were very few opportunities outside. Johanna inquired about some temporary work, but as in everywhere in the north, the activity levels of the city dropped significantly with the cold season. And thus, few people had any need for unskilled temporary help.

She briefly wondered about the pair of scavengers they’d left behind in Rocastle Demesnes. The western pair of small towns was probably even sleepier than Zahl. She hoped they’d get on fine.

Johanna found herself helping the inn prepare for Christmas time. There were only three groups of travelers staying in Zahl over the winter time, a team of people headed to work in the North for some specialized construction work near the northern border that separated the Marches of the Dakota from the northern tribal lands, a caravan team that was returning south “later”, and them.

The innkeeper was happy to have her help a bit, although he warned her he was paying mostly with free drinks since she consumed copious quantities of hot tea when she was staying in the common room. That didn’t bother Johanna or Tom. Peter and Laura managed to leave the Inn regularly to wander the city, although she was skeptical there was enough to make it that interesting for long in winter.

At one point, she almost slipped. After so long a time, she forgot that she was supposed to feel the heat. Technically speaking, she felt it, she just didn’t have the pain signal associated with it that told her it was dangerous, since it wasn’t. But the main cook – the innkeeper’s wife – didn’t notice anything untoward in how she handled some stuff.

As Christmas came ever closer, they started placing decorations. Old painted paper garlands, painted stars, holly, and other stuff. She helped, mostly by offering suggestions. Those were prized, because she was an outsider, and did suggest different arrangements, ones that would be more original than the usual stuff.

A brief thaw helped, but before she could even wonder if it was worth it to do another quick salvage run, snow fell again, and then temperatures plummeted to the point where even their warm clothes from New Benton and the replacements for Peter’s old military gear were barely adequate against the cold.

The entire half week before Christmas was a non-stop blizzard, howling across the streets.

Blizzards were a lot harsher in the Dakotas, she realized. Her native lands in the Montana were mostly wooded, and wood helped somehow to cut the wind, even in the cleared farmlands. Here, with little to no obstacles for hundreds of miles, an eastern blizzard was something to behold.

But everything cleared, and the four of them found themselves headed to the midnight mass for Christmas under starry skies, a near last quarter of a Moon, and an almost tolerable temperature.

Zahl had three churches, and the one closest to the inn was packed, so they made the trip to the largest, barely finding room to stand on the sides. None of the four were particularly religious, but midnight mass was the one tradition she wouldn’t miss.

The inn was not that packed when they came back, but they made their little Christmas Eve party, only heading upstairs when the innkeeper started rumbling.

Under the covers, she kept the party going with Tom.

“Happy New Year, everyone,” the innkeeper shouted over the din of the common room.

The inn was packed for this Year 2174 party. Celebrating the New Year always drew in the crowds in a city, she’d learned. Back home, New Year was also mostly a family party, with a few friends from other homes coming and going, exchanging wishes. Here, people tried to find the largest congregations of people, to party. The dance halls of the city were packed, all restaurants opened even in the late evening with a slow service filled with all kinds of weird food, and people drank. A lot. A lot more than usual.

Timothy’s was normally a fairly upscale establishment but that night, a minor brawl broke out. And of course, Tom and Peter got involved as the drunken participants missed each other and fell on their table, trying to figure out who pulled them there.

That was another dangerous moment. Because of course, Tom hitting someone he was considering an opponent meant an entirely different thing than a random person hitting on a drunk patron. Peter was slightly better suited for that – him dodging attacks and slapping people silly, knocking them down, that was easier to pass as being good at brawls, rather than the effects of Talents.

The one thing Laura had to watch for was that it was almost too easy to start slipping into Dread gaze mode. The last thing any of them needed was to be ousted as a group of Talented. Not that close to the Montana Marches. While Johanna doubted the news would go far before spring, leaving obvious traces of their passage was not a good idea.

For the same reason, Laura avoided using her touch to fix people. She mostly patched the two men afterward, notably Tom who still had taken some hits.

Johanna wasn’t impressed by her first New Year’s party in a city.

The New Year changed very little in Johanna’s life. More snow, although most of the time, the streets were cleared enough for normal traffic. The evenings were more interesting. There were few people around, and the innkeeper didn’t offer a menu for noon, but you had people coming for eating and drinks every evening, so Johanna and Tom started talking with the locals, finding the local gossip.

The Zahl Weekly had very little in terms of foreign news. Still, news items percolated across the white wastes of the Dakota, telling Johanna that, yes, mail circulated, even if slowly. But either the printer stretched their publication as much as he could, or they took a very long time to arrive.

Fears of Recession hit the Montana Marches

As the Wardenship digs deeper and deeper into its coffers to fuel the ongoing war and sustain an increased army, people are starting to anticipate increased taxes. While most of the tax harvest is spent within the State in various ways, an increasing amount is spent on the foreign purchases of gear, although little of that benefits the Dakota…

Petra Veldhuis still officiated five days a week, and something was thrilling, something special about watching her chill the drinks, seeing the small manalight that no one else could see. Not everyone took a Petra’s Special, but she worked for customers ordering more classic drinks, which she seemed to know well.

One time, she spotted Johanna looking and smiling as she prepared one of her hallmark drinks.

“Interested in one? The next one is in twenty minutes.”

“Well, I’m more of a hot drink fan than cold ones. Except for beer. I’m just… fascinated, I’d say, whenever you make one.”

“Trying to spot the trick? Everyone does that.”

“Oh, no. I know you’re doing something magical.”

“Thanks for the trust.”

“It’s called Ice Touch in the magical reference guide from the society.”

Petra’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Wait, you mean… you know that magic?”

“Just a sec’,” she replied.

Johanna got to the table where Tom was still reading the latest novel she’d brought, picked the Mages of America, and went back to the bar where Petra was mixing another drink already. She opened it on the appropriate reference page and showed it to her as soon as she came back from serving the drinks at the table.

“There. I’m pretty sure it’s your Talent.”

Petra looked quickly around to check if her skills were needed before starting to read.

“Maybe. But I’m definitively not doing that.”

“It’s a matter of degree. Ever heard of the… Sorceress of the Mists in the Montana?” Johanna hesitated briefly.

“Think so. Powerful sorceress. Wasn’t there some news about how she stopped an attack by herself before winter?”

“The one and same,” Johanna replied before opening the book at Elena Worchester’s biography, tier, and talent page. “That’s her.”

She then turned to Diogo Amengual’s page. “And this is someone with the same magic Talent, except that his version is much smaller in scope. He can’t do it for as long, and covers less area with the mists.”

“So, you’re trying to say, I’m a sorceress, just a lesser one.”

“The official term is adept. Someone like you, with a very low rank of the same spell.”

“Just my rotten luck.”

It was Johanna’s turn to raise her eyebrows in surprise.

“Sure you wish to hear sob stories? Usually, it’s young men who are very interested in that…” she asked, interrogatively.

Johanna started, then smiled. She threw her head toward the table.

“I’m sure my husband won’t be missing out.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Johanna’s look of incomprehension must have meant something to Petra since she laughed.

“Never mind. So, married already? You look to be a bit young to be traveling around, but I’m guessing you’re the boss of the outfit.”

“Uh?”

“It shows when you’re talking at your table. Bartenders do notice that. So… you two and your two friends… married too?”

“Yes. probably at some dance hall or something. Laura used to go to sleep very early, but since she can wake up at any late hour these days…”

“Well, there’s not enough room for dancing here, that’s for sure. I’m not sure where we’d put a band to perform.”

She interrupted herself, as an order arrived, and she quickly poured out two drinks.

“Anyway, sob story time. Never had much luck in my life. Fourth child…”

“I’m fifth,” Johanna said.

“Eh. So, you know how it goes then.”

“That’s actually why we took up ruins scavenging. I could help and stay at the farm, but that’s not the same, even if it’s your older brother’s running it.”

“Story of everyone’s lives,” Petra said before a couple of men came and ordered some basic cocktails.

“I had a fiancé, back when I was twenty. Great guy, who worked for his father in house furniture. We dated for almost two years before getting hitched. Good prospect too, as his father said he’d turn the store in a decade or so.”

Johanna drew a sip of her tea. The heat still registered, even if it didn’t bother her anymore.

“Best years of my life. Then he got one of those bad types of pneumonia. It looked like the flu but got into the lungs. The doctor came to check, we went upstairs… and he was dead.”

Johanna almost offered condolences, but she guessed it had been some time ago.

“Now, he was heir, but not already in charge. And he had a pair of brothers.”

“The father switched who was going to be the heir,” Johanna guessed.

“And I went from wife to the future boss to no one. He offered me a job, but well, I could tell it wasn’t a real offer. More of a pity for the widow of his son. Besides, I’m not that good at woodworking. I know, I tried.”

“You could have learned.”

“Maybe. But I wanted to change everything. Not to stay immured where Edvin used to be. Reverted to my old name, and took an offer. New pub in town. Wanted all kinds of staff.”

“And?”

“Went under within a year. They wanted to do fancy stuff, elaborate decorations, and so on. Never got more than half a dozen people a day. One day, the owner had all of us behind the pub, and said ‘sorry’. Just ‘sorry’, nothing else. He then went back in and closed the door and that was it.”

“Ouch.”

“Tried a restaurant next. That was a small place, nice and cozy… except that a month after, their daughter came back from the east unexpectedly, and they replaced me. Timothy was my next stop. It’s been two years now.”

“At least he’s prosperous enough to be stable.”

“I’m sure something will come up. Maybe a fire next time.”

“And now you do magical drinks.”

“And I persuaded Timothy to let me do Petra’s specials once I figured out I could do that kind of thing. For over two years now. The fact that I can’t do lots of those adds to the prestige… and the price Timothy charges for those. Not going to be bartending forever, but it pays the bills.”

Johanna guessed she could easily do some Johanna’s Specials too. Hot drinks with lots of flames. And, of course, more of these drinks.

But, of course, that was a pretty bad idea to advertise who she was exactly. Even if the winter slowed the North to a crawl, word would get out. She wasn’t Peter who, by nature, went unnoticed when he applied his heroic Talents.

“Thanks for sharing this, though,” Petra said, tapping on the Mages of America volume. “Weird to know that this little thing is actually a thing. Are you?… ”

“I’m very interested in the implications of magic. Of Talents being a thing,” Johanna replied, skirting the answer.

“There aren’t many. Are they?” Petra asked.

“The Society estimates one adept like in 7000 people. People with more power are much rarer, like one per 125,000 or worse.”

“Yikes. Is that why there’s only one in Montana, you think?”

“I’m also guessing if you’re a sorcerer, maybe you can get a job someplace warmer.”

“Wish I was a real one. But I guess I’m it for Zahl. Rotten luck, as I said.”

Another batch of orders came, and Johanna grabbed her book and went back to her table. Tom grunted, lifting his head from his novel.

“Long talk?”

“Young widow, not much to do. She’s been an adept for a bit over two years, apparently. Maybe being an adept is easier, and you can get a Talent much earlier.”

“All ‘normal’ ones are older, right?”

“Usually thirties like Elena. Sometimes even older.”

She contemplated the drinks and her notebook, before closing it.

“Don’t think we’ll see them tonight.”

“No. That Rock place is open all night,” Tom replied. “Want to join them?”

“God no. That’s too energetic for me. Not going to set fire, even figuratively, to the dance floor.”

“Laura used her gaze on one guy last time.”

“Wait, what?”

“Too insistent. And unless you want Peter to knife him, too big.”

“She didn’t tell me.”

“Didn’t either. Peter told me the thing. Problem was… spillover? A few got caught in the gaze to the side.”

Johanna winced.

“Let’s hope it’s not noticed.”

“Who takes attention at a dance hall?” Tom said.

“Probably nothing. Okay, I’m going to order. Want anything special?”

“Good with their usual stew.”

“At least they change it every week.”

She went back to the bar, which was unoccupied. She looked around and went to the door to the back, ready to knock when she heard Petra’s voice raised. She sounded a bit upset, Johanna thought.

“No. I’m not going to do an additional day,” she told the innkeeper.

“That’s the best job you can do, Petra.”

“Just because I’m not an heir of anything, and Edvin died, doesn’t mean I only have to bartend as my only life.”

“I mean, what else do you have? There’s not enough work for you. I pay better because of the novelty factor of your weird thing, but that’s not how you get enough wealth to settle.”

“I have time to settle, Timothy.”

“Up to you. I’m offering.”