I hiss as I slide off Kalanthia’s back after releasing the harness hooks. I’m stiff.

  “The first day is always the worst,” Nicholas commiserates, eyeing me with more than a little sympathy.

  “I’ve heard that,” I agree. I would probably have been worse off if I’d been riding a horse – Kalanthia’s back was rather comfortable, though I started to stiffen after hours of staying in the same position. But the stiffness is already easing – even without using Flesh-Shaping, my Constitution is high enough that minor things such as cut-off blood flow are easily corrected.

  I look around at where we’ve stopped – a stone circle filled with the ashes of an old fire and surrounded by logs and seat-like stones. A frequently-used campsite, clearly. We’re just off the side of the road, sandwiched between it and the tracts of farmland beyond. “We’re stopping here for the night?”

  “For five marks,” Nicholas confirms. “Enough time for us to eat and get some sleep, and our mounts to rest. Enhancement potions only go so far.”

  I nod shortly. Part of me aches to just keep riding but I know that half-killing ourselves to get there won’t help my companions. We’re already pushing the limits as it is.

  Honestly, I’ve been incredibly impressed by everyone’s endurance. Of course Kalanthia’s stamina is impressive – she is a Tier three, after all. But even carrying me and some of our companions on rotation, her paws ate up the road tirelessly. She does look a little fatigued, but nothing serious. I turn to her and pull off the harness, murmuring my appreciation for her efforts and giving her plenty of grateful scratches which she takes as her due. Even before I stop, she begins grooming herself – the advantage of a leopard mount over a horse.

  Still, I’ve been thoroughly impressed with the tirelessness of the horses. I know little about horses on Earth, but from what I know, they can’t generally gallop for most of a day without becoming exhausted.

  The horses here, however, seem to be significantly better bred than the ones on Earth. Or maybe it’s the magical influence – their tack shines bright green when I use Inspect, and even now the riders are each feeding their horses with something that glows with multiple energies. It seems Nicholas had a point when he said that I have no idea of what horses here are capable of.

  Once they’ve cared for their mounts, removing the tack and letting the horses roll over in the grass-type groundcover at the side of the road, the guards make a quick sort of camp. Four tents are put up – one noticeably larger than the others – and a fire is set up. Regan, at least, has access to an Inventory – after the tents are pulled out of it, he tugs out a cauldron half his own size. Displaying his prodigious strength, he barely even grunts as he balances it on its metal legs. I shake my head when he removes the tight lid that covers it and I realise that the cauldron is already half-full of stew – and boiling hot stew at that.

  Laeman steps closer to it and drops a couple of stones into the stew – Tier two Cores, if I’m not mistaken. I trigger my magical sight and watch in fascination as the lumps of Energy from the Cores start dissolving and diluting into the liquid within a few minutes. Laeman uses the big wooden ladle that was in the cauldron to stir it, evenly distributing the Energy through the stew. That’s one way of overcoming the Energy-draining properties of the Inventory, I guess.

  As he starts serving the stew into rough wooden bowls, I turn to my own companions.

  “How are you guys feeling?”

  Tired. Hungry, answers Bastet with unusual shortness. I reckon she can be forgiven for it – she ran almost as much as Kalanthia did. Immediately, I pull several carcasses out of my Inventory and lay them down in front of everyone. They all dig in, Kalanthia, Bastet, Ivor, and Noir with particular vigour – they did the most exercise out of everyone. Ninja, Fenrir, Sirocco, and Lathani all had multiple turns on Kalanthia’s back.

  “I’m sorry I can’t add Cores to these in the way that Laeman added them to our dinner,” I tell them regretfully. “But if you want to have an Energy Heart to meditate on, let me know.”

  I would appreciate that, Markus Wolfe, Kalanthia immediately accepts. It will help replenish my resources before we set off again.

  “Of course,” I agree, pulling out an earth-aligned Heart. She accepts gladly, and puts her paw over it even as she continues devouring carcasses – she’s already more than halfway through one of those cow-like beasts that I got from the kitchens and is showing no signs of stopping.

  Several of the others express interest in meditating rather than sleeping over the next five hours, so I hand out the right alignments, grateful that I took the time to produce so many of them in the other world.

  I sense eyes on my back but when I turn my head, no one is looking at me. Am I paranoid?

  Once my companions are sorted, I move over to the fire and gratefully accept a bowl of stew and chunk of flatbread from Laeman. It seems that while we’re camping, rank plays less part as Nicholas is sitting on a log near the fire, just as the five guards accompanying us are. Digging into the thick brown stew, my eyebrows go up in surprise at the rich taste even as guilt twinges in my gut. Who knows what my kidnapped companions are eating right now.

  “Having access to an Inventory really does make camping easier,” I remark wryly, trying to distract myself from pointless wonderings. My comment earns a couple of chuckles.

  “It certainly does,” Regan rumbles. “I did plenty of it before earning my Class, so you can be sure I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Yeah, hardtack and bedrolls beneath a thin layer of cloth,” Laeman sighs, almost sounding nostalgic.

  “Ha,” Regan guffaws, leaning forward and smacking one fist on his knee. “You actually had a thin cloth between you and the elements? I remember one march – our tents got burned in an attack, so we had to kip down under the trees. And one night, it rained like the god of water was turning his direct attention to us.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “At least we had food in that march,” grumbles one of the other guards – Pelan, I believe. “I remember a march where the rutting supplies ran out halfway through the journey – and not a single Inventory or magical storage device between the lot of officers. We just had to tighten our rutting belts and keep on to the end. No stew from the rutting manor’s kitchens like here.” Then he sends a nervous look at Nicholas, seeming to only then remember the presence of nobility. “‘Scuse my language, my lord,” he corrects himself. The lord in question just flicks his hand elegantly.

  “I’ve heard worse,” he dismisses easily. He’s not as relaxed as the guards are, but he seems far more at ease here than in the palace. I don’t blame him – there are probably just as many eyes watching us here as in the palace, but almost all of them will belong to insects or small animals.

  Still, the reminder of his presence does put a dampener on the conversation. I don’t mind the silence – it allows me to enjoy my food in peace. Apart from a brief break over lunchtime, we’ve been riding hard all day – and Nicholas has been using that time to fill my head with information about everything he can. He seems to be doing his best to prepare me for any possible situation that might occur during the rescue mission – or as a result of it. Sarran has stayed behind at the manor which means that, since Nicholas can’t accompany me into Goldroute, I’ll be all on my own when it comes to political machinations.

  It makes me a little nervous – and from what I can tell, Nicholas is far more so – but I understand the reasoning. It’s entirely possible that all of this is a diversion and Torrent or whoever else he’s working with intends on launching a full-scale attack on the manor in our absence. While the chances of them getting into the family’s heritage room are remote, there are many other treasures which are not kept within that single small room. Anyway, allowing damage to happen to the House Seat like that would indicate vulnerability to other nobles.

  Which means that Nicholas is determined to shove into my head as much information about the various interactions between Houses and the ways of behaving in different circumstances so that I can at least decide for myself which rules I want to break. Understandably, he doesn’t want the same situation to occur as happened with Valence – though by this point I think he’s resigned to the idea that when it comes to certain matters, I will act against social expectations even when I know what they are. And I will get my vengeance against Torrent – one way or another. But saving my companions comes first.

  “The road was pretty quiet today,” remarks Laeman as he goes back for another bowl of stew. I debate whether I should do the same as I wipe out my own bowl with the last of my bread – it was delicious.

  “We’re still in Azaarde,” Mathis comments, sending a quick glance at Nicholas that I barely catch. The lord in question seems not to be paying attention – his eyes are gazing at the stars above. But that doesn’t mean he’s not listening. Perhaps the guard comes to the same conclusion. “We shouldn’t run into bandits until we hit Goldroute.”

  “There are more bandits in Goldroute than Azaarde?” I can’t help asking.

  “Great Lords each view their duties differently,” Nicholas answers, proving that he was actually paying attention. He brings his eyes down from the sky to look at me. “I see bandits as a scourge on the common people, which in turn affects the economy of my territory. Thus, as soon as a nest is reported, like any other pest, I send appropriate measures to wipe them out. Other Great Lords see them as a way of enriching themselves, requiring merchants to pay fees to hire the territory guard necessary to keep them safe.”

  He doesn’t mention any names, but he doesn’t need to – even without the information he’s given me about Goldmine and the House’s history, I’d understand his point.

  “I see. So we should expect easy travelling to Whalehost?” I check.

  “As long as there aren’t any beast attacks,” Pelan points out dolefully.

  “T’isn’t the season for beast attacks,” Regan grunts. “It’s heading into summer – attacks generally happen in early Spring or Autumn when the beasts get some sort of crazy spirit in them.”

  “Then why did my troop get attacked by a beast in mid-summer?” demands Pelan belligerently. He and Regan are the oldest of the guards – and it sounds like they were both soldiers or something before taking up service as guards to Nicholas. I know now that all Houses are required to maintain a certain number of trained and equipped soldiers – no more, no less. The Great House numbers, commensurate with their higher responsibilities, are required to fund far more than any Lesser House. Perhaps Pelan and Regan both served the territory in that force.

  “How’m I supposed to know?” Regan demands. “Where were you at the time?”

  “Near Zlona.”

  “Oh, the mountains. Well, that explains it, then,” Regan dismisses. “Mountains are beast territory, aren’t they? You’ve got to expect attacks there. But this is farmland – we won’t see any of those here until the Autumn, and maybe not even then considering how far we are from any beast’s territory.”

  “Except for the sea,” Laeman points out 'helpfully’. Regan gives him a level stare.

  “And how many beasts have you seen crawl out of the waters and cause destruction?”

  “One too many,” Laeman retorts immediately. Regan eyes him for a long moment, then inclines his head begrudgingly – there’s clearly a story there. But before I can ask for details, another guard speaks up for the first time – Sulir, the Tracker.

  “Of course, there are rifts. Never know when we’re going to run into one of those.”

  “Rifts?” I ask, immediately curious. Didn’t Nicholas mention how the council had to decide whether the portal that brought me here counted as a rift or not?

  “Openings between this world and various pocket realms,” Nicholas explains succinctly. “They open rather unpredictably, though there tend to be some signs of the bigger ones before they actually open.”

  “Pocket realms…like…other worlds?” I ask, confused. I thought that what Nicholas did in bringing me over from the other world was something that had never been done before.

  “Of a sort,” Nicholas agrees. “However, most of them are far too small to be considered a ‘world’. The smallest are the size of a room; the largest can be bigger than Moriax. Some are innocuous – they open, and then they close days, tendays, months, years later. Others are not and must be closed or they will fill the surrounding area with hostile beasts. Closing them requires going inside and casting a particular spell. Some are impossible to enter because their very environment is hostile to humans. Fortunately, those do not tend to pose a threat to the environment around – the beasts who exit those generally find our own environment just as noxious to them.”

  “So there’s a chance of us running into one of those at any time?”

  “A slim one. Very slim,” allows Nicholas. “But there are various detection methods in place to discover them when they open – a hostile rift left open is a dangerous thing indeed.”

  I can imagine.

  Nicholas pushes himself to his feet.

  “We have just over four candlemarks before we need to leave. I suggest everyone gets some rest.” Markus, are you willing to share the tent with me, or would you prefer to make other arrangements? It takes me a moment to realise that he’s switched into mental speech even as he walks off to the tent in question.

  I don’t mind sharing, I tell him honestly. I’m tired enough to sleep out in the open – I reckon I’ll be out like a light. I follow him towards our temporary accommodation, grateful that I’m not one of the guards as I hear them deciding how the watch will be divided up.

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