The power of the lawyer is the uncertainty of the law.

Pre-Fall Philosopher

The station manager in Malebranche hadn’t lied. East of the town, they were walking on the road set alongside the train line, or rather, what would be the line one day, but on the second day, they found the line’s end, the long steel tracks stopping. The bed of crushed rocks kept on, along with wooden crossties already emplaced, and they found the traces of a work camp, along with stacks of timber for future railroad ties, but nobody was there.

Instead, they found a caravan a hundred yards further out, a dozen wagons full of crates arranged in a square, with people making dinner, while draft oxen were eating the grass in the prairie. This was a surprise, but if there was enough commercial traffic to justify building that railroad, caravans should be a common occurrence.

“Welcome, travelers,” the caravan master said when they dropped their backpacks at the camp.

The caravanners were a friendly bunch, and they welcomed the additions to the camp, notably when they pulled out additional food to add to the menu. Johanna kept looking for a dwarf, even though she remembered that the caravan she’d seen in Valetta was doing a north-south route, not going into central states.

“We’re doing that route regularly. Malebranche, Nedalshe, then over the river, Far Out, Five Corners, and back. I suppose one day, it will shorten. Maybe go out completely. We’ll move somewhere else. There is always freight to move, and not every road can be paved in steel,” the master told her as they ate the beans and beef dinner.

“Nobody’s working on the line?”

“Probably delays in getting new tracks. There are always delays in that kind of big project. It’s not as if you could speed that with magic.”

She wondered if that was the case. If there were Talents that could apply to that kind of work. Steel-specialized Shapers, along with Earth Shapers, maybe? Or other, slightly different categories.

There could be entire categories dedicated to this, she realized. So far, they had mostly seen talents directly applicable to fighting and survival, but she’d read stories that had Talented craftsmen, alchemists changing substances into others, and people who forged swords in minutes. If Artifacts were Talents made objects, then the Hammer of Fixing, back in Kootenai Garrison, was a preview of these sorts of possibilities. Who knew what Talents lay hidden, unknown to everybody? She knew that the hot steam breath, the fireballs, or even Petra’s Jagged Stone had never been recorded in history. She was pretty sure Laura’s instant movement to assist the wounded or even just the fact of healing them was also unprecedented.

There is so much we do not know.

They departed after a quick breakfast in the morning, while the drivers prepared their caravan for the day. They could walk slightly faster than the caravan, and they would probably arrive in Nedalshe in two days to the caravan’s three.

They followed the packed earth road, next to the already laid ballast. That second road of crushed stones and gravel ended a few miles from the camp, leaving the road to continue on its own.

Johanna knew it was entirely wishful thinking, but she already felt freer. They were now in Independence State, the second-largest state in the Union behind the Marches of the Montana, the bedrock of the Treaty – with Nashville as the Union Capital – and one of the most open of all the states.

And also one of the states where a draft was not legal, meaning that if they were citizens there, they could argue against the draft and all that followed from it. Although she intended to follow Catherine Rocastle’s advice and not make it a point until they had to defend themselves in court if they ever needed to.

Nedalshe came as a shock. They had spotted the classic farm complexes, with their usual small palisades and surrounding fields, pastures, and orchards all along the road. And, once closer to the actual city sitting next to the Mississippi, there was a lot of traffic all over the place, farmers working on getting the planting season done, merchants with filled carriages shipping things.

Once the city came closer, she realized that there were a lot of buildings outside of the wall she was seeing further in. A lot more than you’d expect from usual warehouses or other buildings.

There was also a lot more traffic than she’d anticipated, and nobody was paying much attention to them. But as they got closer and closer, and the traffic increased, she realized that she was looking at a classic warehouse on her left, while the right side appeared to be a modest, but recognizable one-story house.

Outside the walls.

She had flashbacks of the old Poole farm, built on its lonesome outside of walls, and the graveyard of him and his family.

What are those people thinking?

“That feels dangerously exposed,” Peter remarked as well.

“It’s close to the walls, though.”

Johanna realized they were sliding into what looked like the city itself, without even having to cross a protection gate. Various buildings, all relatively recent, along a mix of gardens, pastures for beasts of burden, and houses. And people going into and coming out of side alleys, normally.

They walked almost a quarter of a mile through the built zone until they reached the perfectly normal and manned gate.

“I’m sorry, we’re travelers from far… is it normal to build houses like that,” she asked, gesturing behind her.

The guard shrugged.

“Never been around? The old ordnances against outdoor construction got struck down almost a decade ago. People kept pointing out that predator runs were almost non-existent, and had been for a generation.”

“Struck down?”

“You had people pooling a petition, and pointing out there was nothing on State law that mandated buildings inside. Reviewed, rejected, appealed, granted, and people started to build outside the designated areas inside, as it was cheaper. So, there you have it,” replied before switching tones.

“Welcome to Nedalshe, the city that grows without limits!” he intoned solemnly before smiling and waving them inside.

They made it in along with the flow. Belatedly, Johanna realized she had not asked for suitable inns. But rather than turn back, she decided to keep looking. They still had plenty of time before evening, so they could check. Besides, the city – the proper city, inside the borders – was huge. Maybe larger than New Benton. There must be plenty of areas for travelers around.

Then she almost stopped, when she spotted the two figures ahead. They were tall… and they had horns coming out of their heads. Petra nearly bumped into her before spotting the pair.

Johanna realized she was gawping like an uneducated savage from the North – which she was – and grabbed Tom, before starting again. She wanted to stare, but in this big city, this was marking them as too much of an outsider.

As she passed the two who had stopped to look at a store’s window, she caught briefly snatches of a discussion.

“… and Johnson is probably the worst fullback of this…”

She had no idea what they were talking about and did not want to look too curious, so she pushed on, trying her best not to turn her head back to look at the exotic figures.

“Level 3 minotaur”. And funnily enough “Level 2 Battler”. Just like the dwarf, back in Valetta, the two humanoids did not quite match what you’d expect of a minotaur. The faces were purely human, not bovine in the slightest. And outside of a huge muscular frame – and a 7’6 one, or so he judged – and general hairiness they didn’t look to have weirdly articulated legs or anything. One even had sandals, with five ordinary-looking pink toes showing up.

The five of them did not have to go far in any case. Johanna should have expected at least one inn to be close to the gates anyway. And wonders, it even included the rates displayed prominently outside, just next to the door. With individual showers and toilets for all rooms.

“Reasonable,” Laura noted.

“Yes. That will do. At least until we get our bearings,” Johanna replied.

The inside of the inn was spacious, and well-lighted, with the usual amenities clearly there. Johanna beelined for the counter where a young girl, far younger than her, kept watch.

A few quick negotiations later, she handed keys to the rest of the group.

“As usual. We look around, figure out local gossip, and we meet back for dinner to plan for the rest.”

Surprisingly, the common room included complimentary news sheets. It looked like Nedalshe’s Voice was thrice weekly, and relatively thick. It did include all sorts of local news, news from all over Independence State, and a sizeable section of general news.

One immediately attracted her attention.

Montana’s Warden declares global mobilization!

Following the devastating losses of the winter campaign, the Warden of the Marches of the Montana, Edgard Maistry, has announced a general mobilization across the entire state, repealing all the exemptions and quota limits. After repelling an army that entered the state itself, he calls upon the neighboring states to support the beleaguered Marches.

Rumors of a secret weapon have been dispelled. General Adorno, speaking for the Wardenship, said that, although they had sought to pursue rumors in the westernmost part of the State, no major Artifact had been unearthed, and the only magical item to ever have been found in recent times there is the sword that was stolen by bandits last year.

Despite that, persistent rumors of significant troops dispatched and operating west near the town of Valetta since last fall, lend strength to the idea that the Warden is seeking some sort of advantage. The most striking is that even the Sorceress of the Mists herself went west for a short trip before returning to the front lines.

Meanwhile, the draft has been extended, and every non-critical citizen of the state can now potentially be mobilized to repel what looks like a major and difficult campaign in the distant northern state. So far, the Marches are on the defensive, and it is doubtful that raw recruits can turn the table fast. With the war entering its tenth year now, breaking the stalemate might remain a dream for both sides…

Johanna frowned. The only reason the Warden would have to dispatch forces to Valetta was if he was looking for the Skeleton.

“Are they seeking you?” she whispered. “Did they find you? Did you… change them, as you did us?”

There was no answer to that question, of course. Not that she’d expected one, not directly. And besides, it was doubtful that the Warden had found a way to get the Skeleton to improve people. If he had, he would not be that hard-pressed to defend the Marches.