The next day, Lucas woke just as early, but instead of heading to the henhouse, he went toward the pigsty. The cook was late again, which gave him time to study his status window properly.

  The longer he stared at it, the stronger the temptation to spend his attribute points became. Still, he managed to control his excitement and resolved himself to wait until he left for Stonehill.

  When the cook finally arrived, Lucas was given the task of slaughtering two pigs. But unlike chickens, pigs didn’t offer their necks willingly, so the cook assisted him.

  [You’ve gained 10 Experience Points!]

  [You’ve gained 10 Experience Points!]

  [You’ve leveled up!]

  Lucas waited until their work was finished before checking his status window.

  [...Level: 13; XP: 8/33; Attribute Points: 3.6…]

  I’m progressing at a decent pace, he thought, satisfied with himself. He glanced at the cook, intending to follow him to the kitchen, but the man shook his head.

  “Heinrich,” the cook said meaningfully.

  “Now?” Lucas grimaced. “I wanted to eat.”

  Still, he turned and headed toward the largest tent in the camp.

  <<<>>>

  “Otto told me everything that happened yesterday,” Heinrich said the moment Lucas sat down. He gestured toward Otto, who stood beside him with his head lowered. “I’m relieved it all went exactly as I anticipated.”

  Lucas nodded, teeth clenched as yesterday’s anger stirred again. Heinrich had risked his life without even warning him.

  “Yes. I survived,” Lucas said, a bite slipping into his voice. He softened it at once, unwilling to test Heinrich. “But I’m not sure whether the method worked.”

  “Unfortunately, the crystal has been moved to the warehouse,” Heinrich replied, voice low and rough. “We’re expecting Unbowed tomorrow, and it’s customary to hide attribute-detecting items when receiving them as guests.”

  Lucas nodded. He didn’t miss the brief frown that crossed Otto’s face.

  “That is one of the reasons I summoned you,” Heinrich continued. “We received orders this morning. The company you’ll be joining will arrive early tomorrow, and you’ll depart immediately.”

  Something happened, Lucas thought, keeping his expression straight. Decisions like this aren’t made without reason.

  “Won’t they need rest?” he asked.

  “No,” Heinrich said with a faint smile. “But you will. As the lowest-ranking soldier, you’re not permitted to ride. You’ll be walking to Stonehill.”

  Lucas already disliked where this was going. “How far is it?”

  “Three hundred kilometers. Give or take.” Heinrich said as he pulled a parchment from beneath the table and scanned it, nodding to himself as if agreeing with its contents.

  Lucas leaned forward without thinking, then caught himself and leaned back against the chair.

  “It’s a report from Alof,” Heinrich said flatly, having noticed. “He noted that you showed no hesitation while slaughtering chickens. And since you arrived here so quickly today, I assume you handled the pigs as well.”

  Heinrich clasped his hands and looked straight at Lucas.

  “It seems you have overcome your fear of blood.”

  Damn it. I forgot to pretend, Lucas cursed inwardly.

  “It appears I only fear human blood,” Lucas said with a shrug, keeping his tone steady. “I was hoping to work with larger animals tomorr…”

  “Lucas,” Heinrich cut in, “do you feed on blood?”

  “What? No.”

  Heinrich glanced at the detector. It remained unchanged. His brows drew together slightly as the tent fell into silence, broken only by the sound of Otto chewing.

  When Heinrich looked back up, his gaze was sharper.

  “You may leave,” he said, gesturing toward the exit. “Otto will be busy today. You will assist the cook. Oh, and I’ll let you borrow the crystal so that you can communicate with the rest of the company. But you must give to the commander when you arrive.”

  “Thank you,” Lucas murmured. “But without a mage…”

  “The commander will take care of that,” Heinrich cut him off. “Now, leave!”

  Lucas noticed the shift - Heinrich had already been in a foul mood when he arrived, but it had clearly worsened.

  Just one more day, then I’m gone from this place, Lucas thought as he stepped out of the tent. Stonehill… I hope it's better than this.

  <<<>>>

  “Why do you wear the same armor as me?” Lucas asked Otto, who walked beside him. “Aren’t you supposed to be higher rank?”

  “I am. Just not in the Stonehill army,” Otto replied. He spat out the sweat that had slipped into his mouth and continued. “Since I applied on my own, I got demoted. You only keep your rank if you’re summoned, or if the new commander feels generous.”

  He snorted.

  “Most don’t. Why pay an infantryman more when they can get away with less?”

  “Was it really worth it then?” Lucas pressed. “Your pay must have dropped significantly, and now you’ll be on the front lines. Isn’t that more dangerous?”

  “Yes. And yes.” Otto slapped his cheek, trying to kill a mosquito. He missed and scowled. “Anything worth having can only be achieved through sacrifice and blood.”

  “These damned bloodsucking insects,” he muttered. “They’re worse than Heinrich.”

  Lucas smiled faintly and took a sip from his waterskin. He had been warned to ration it. Their next stop, where they could refill water wouldn’t be until sunset.

  “At least we left that bastard before the Unbowed arrived,” Otto added with a grin. “Give me some. Mine’s almost empty.”

  “Finish yours first,” Lucas shook his head. “What are these Unbowed?”

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  “Water first,” Otto said, smirking.

  “They’re mercenaries,” one of the mounted soldiers said. He’d been listening the whole time. “They don’t belong to any faction or guild. They recognize no lord, king, or emperor. To them, the only authority is coin. And they only accept gold.”

  The image formed quickly in Lucas’s mind. Warriors without allegiance, selling themselves to the highest bidder.

  “Are there many of them?” Lucas asked when the man fell silent.

  “Dozens,” the rider replied, as if the number alone was frightening.

  “That doesn’t sound like much,” Lucas said, puzzled.

  “Just one group of Unbowed could have wiped out our entire camp,” Otto whispered.

  Magic. Dragons. And now these Unbowed… What kind of world did I end up in? Lucas thought. And who was the bastard who brought me here?

  The sharp blast of a horn pulled him out of his thoughts, the sound like a deer’s mating call.

  “We’ll take ten minutes,” one of the riders shouted as the company slowed. “Let the horses drink, then we move.”

  Lucas looked up at the sun, still climbing, its heat already pressing down.

  This is going to be a long march.

  <<<>>>

  “Why is it s-so c-cold in this-s town?” one of the soldiers stammered as he shoved through the heavy oak door, teeth chattering.

  The wind that followed him inside forced the customers near the entrance to shiver. Some shot the soldier cold, angry gazes, but he ignored them, his attention drawn entirely to his comrades.

  “Where are they?” he asked Lucas.

  “They?” Lucas repeated, puzzled. But he quickly realized the soldier meant their superiors, the heavy infantry who had the luxury of riding horses. “They’re staying in the establishment across the street. Didn’t you meet them? They just left.”

  “No,” the soldier answered, breathing into his cupped palms. “The moment I stabled those damned horses I came straight here. It’s freezing outside.”

  Lucas nodded, a shiver running down his spine as the remaining cold in his body pressed against his senses.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” he laughed, nodding toward the nervous old man behind the counter. “The innkeeper said this town is built on an ice crystal vein…”

  Lucas had no idea what that actually meant. He figured it was a mineral deposit of some kind, but how buried crystal could suck the heat out of the air alluded him completely.

  “Please don’t touch it!” the innkeeper yelped, voice cracking, as if warning a clumsy child who had a tendency to break things.

  “Don’t touch it?” Otto sneered, his face twisting. He dropped the jug back onto the counter, ignoring the cracking sound it made, and closed the distance with the innkeeper. Far too quickly for it to mean peace. “Don’t you sell drinks here, old man?”

  The innkeeper nodded excessively, his jowls trembling.

  “W-we do, of course.” He took a step back, eyes darting around the room. The soldiers had spread their gear over the tables, occupying space he clearly didn't want them to have. “Our spirit is the finest in this region! Much better than what the Rabbit’s Tail sells…”

  Even in such a situation, the innkeeper couldn’t stop himself from slandering the tavern down the street. It seemed the bitterness of losing the precious customers to his rival was stronger than his fear of the men currently standing in his inn - men wearing faded, cheap leather armor who likely couldn't pay as well.

  “Our spirit is not only strong, but it will warm your bodies and stir the appetite for food and…” he paused, a greasing smile breaking his pale, chubby face. “...and other activities.”

  He nodded his head toward a maid leaning over a sturdy wooden table, just enough for her neckline to catch the men’s eyes seated there.

  Otto didn’t follow his gaze. He stared right at the old man.

  “Then what? Aren’t I… aren’t we allowed to drink?” he pressed, taking a step closer, crowding the man.

  “Of c-course you are, my good sirs,” the innkeeper stammered, cursing himself for acting rashly. “B-but…”

  “But what?”

  “Sirs… our spirit is not the piss you will be offered at the Rabbit’s Tail,” he continued, treading carefully. “It’s a premium drink. It would cost two copper and food…”

  “Hahaha!” Otto’s laugh cut him off. “Two copper for premium spirit? Have you ever even seen a premium drink let alone tasted one? To call this horse piss premium… look at this old man. He builds a shack in the middle of nowhere and thinks he can swindle His Highness Charles’s soldiers! He thinks His Highness doesn’t pay us well and that we can’t afford his services.”

  “No… sir, no… how would I dare,” the innkeeper’s face drained from what color had remained.

  “If you call your spirit premium,” Otto scoffed, “then it should be as good as Elyan wine. But I bet you’ve not even heard of it.”

  “I have, sir. But nothing could ever come close to alcohol made by Elves,” the innkeeper responded, lowering his head. He didn’t care about his reputation, not as long as the soldier yelling in his face finally calmed down. “I apologize if I insulted you, my good sirs. It was never my intention.”

  The pause Otto took gave the old man enough courage to retreat and pull out a chair from a nearby table.

  “Please sit, I will order the maid to bring you the best we have,” he said, color finally returning to his face when he saw Otto take the offer. Though as he sat, he did so with a glare that promised the conversation wasn't over.

  “If you had insulted us alone,” Otto said, his voice dropping to a calm, almost reasonable tone that was somehow more terrifying than his shouting. “I’d have ignored it. You wouldn’t be the first ignorant innkeeper we’ve met. But to assume we can’t pay for food is to assume His Highness doesn’t take care of his army. And none of his soldiers will ever let anyone slander the Crown.”

  “No, my good sir,” the innkeeper pleaded, wringing his hands as he retreated a few steps. “How could someone as insignificant as myself insult His Majesty Charles, or his glorious and brave warriors? To show my sincerity, I will treat you entirely for free with my best appetizer - pickled cucumbers! My woman made them herself…”

  Otto glared at him for a long moment, letting the man sweat, before finally pulling his gaze away and waving him off.

  “Just bring us your best drink and food. We don’t need charity,” he said, gesturing for Lucas and the shivering soldier to sit with him.

  “I don’t like to be part of spectacles like this,” Lucas said as the kitchen door swung shut behind the retreating innkeeper.

  “Spectacles?” Otto asked, feigning innocence. “If I had reported that he insulted the Crown, he’d be executed within an hour.”

  “But he didn’t,” Lucas interrupted. “He insulted us.”

  “And who would the other soldiers believe? Me, their comrade in arms, or a greedy innkeeper?” Otto asked with a smirk. “By punishing him, the word spreads. Fewer people will dare to look down on soldiers in the future.”

  Lucas stared at him for a long moment, weighing the harsh logic of it, before shaking his head in disapproval.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I taught him a valuable lesson,” Otto said, straining his neck to try and steal a glance into the kitchen, though the angle was bad. “Next time, he will think twice before sneering at a soldier.”

  “How generous of you,” Lucas replied, a dry smile touching his lips. “Still, I thought this entire spectacle was just to squeeze free drinks and food out of him. I’m glad it wasn’t.”

  “His Majesty Charles’s soldiers would never accept free food or any other services,” the soldier said, finally relaxing his shoulders. Now that he wasn’t hunched over from the cold, his size became apparent; he was much larger than either Lucas or Otto, broad as a barn door.

  “Why is that, Karl?” Lucas asked, noticing that Otto nodded in agreement.

  “It’s the law. I remember back in my village,” Karl said as he settled into his chair, shifting his weight to find a comfortable spot on the hard, cold wood. “There was a soldier… his name was Fridrich, I think. Yes, definitely Fridrich. He demanded free services from everyone. Healers were supposed to treat his wounds for free. The millers were told to grind his corn for free, even though Fridrich didn’t even provide the corn… can you imagine?”

  “Yes, what a greedy pig,” Otto grinned. He opened his mouth to switch the subject, but Karl beat him to it.

  “That’s not all,” Karl said, leaning over the table and lowering his voice to a whisper. “He even demanded services from… maidens!” he nodded knowingly. “Fridrich used to say that as a soldier he risked his life for our village, hence the villagers needed to properly repay him…”

  “And that’s when our Karl decided to become a soldier,” Otto winked at Lucas, who laughed along with him.

  “...” Karl hesitated, his face reddening slightly. “Yes. I know it was wrong, but who wouldn’t want that kind of life? He even made woodcutters chop wood for him!”

  “Karl, does this story have a purpose?” Lucas asked, still smiling.

  “He was punished for it,” Otto responded, cutting to the chase.

  “Well, yes. One day…” Karl wanted to continue, but Otto cut him off sharply.

  “Wait. Look.” He nodded toward the entrance.

  The heavy door slammed open, and a woman rushed in.

  She was dressed only in her undergarments, her skin blue and covered in goosebumps from the freezing wind. She charged at the counter, her eyes wide and frantic, scanning the room before locking onto the innkeeper who had just emerged from the back.

  “Frieda?” he stammered, gulping. “What happened?”

  “O-our Hannah,” Frieda whispered, voice breaking. “The… the monster t-took our Hannah.”