Leaning against the wall behind me, I glanced at the packs at my feet and then over to Tomas as he fidgeted with the various pouches on the load-bearing vest I’d helped fit for him yesterday.

  “I don’t know, Sam. Don’t get me wrong, I see the utility, but it’s going to take me a long time to get used to it.”

  My gaze drifted to the clouds slowly pushing across the otherwise sunny sky overhead. “It’ll go faster than you think. What’s your best reload time?”

  The bard smiled. “Three seconds from empty with the belt, a fair bit longer off the sidesaddle.”

  I returned the smile and went back to eying the circling hawk overhead. “Good. With luck we won’t need the practice. Talked with Fiachra last night about any potential critters we might run into, just in case he knew something you didn’t.”

  “Oh? What’d he have to say?”

  “Said the one good thing about the Fall is that the Infested hollowed out most monster populations in the region entirely.”

  “That’s a good thing. Right?”

  I shrugged. “On the face of it? Yeah.”

  “I know that look, Sam.”

  I flashed the half-elf a sardonic grin. “It means if we do run into something, it was either mean enough to kill the infested it came across or smart enough to stay the fuck away from them.”

  Tomas sighed and looked away shaking his head. “I knew there’d be a catch. There always is. If it’s not one thing, it’s another isn’t it?”

  Footsteps approached from the other side of the wall as I chuckled. “Welcome to the infantry, Tomas. Welcome to the goddamn infantry.”

  I looked over just as Aoife stepped out of the truck-shaped hole in the wall to my right. “Morning.”

  The Harvester glanced in my direction before surveying our surroundings. “Today’s the day?”

  “Yup. All our gear’s in order. Just waiting on Albert’s friend to show up.”

  She eyed me with a mix of concern and skepticism. “You sure you’ve recovered?”

  My conversation with the expedition’s priest replayed in my head as I nodded. Thankfully, you and your sister were only dead for a minute or two or this would be much worse. “Yes, Ma’am. Wasn’t out long enough for bigger problems to stick around, per Declan.”

  Aoife made a quiet grunt. “Tomas, keep an eye on him, just in case.”

  “Aye, Harvester,” the bard noted with a slight dip to his head.

  “Any idea when Albert’s friend is supposed to be here?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “I was told sometime in the morning. Not much morning left, so should be soon. Not that I think we’re sticking to that. I remember how hard a time my grandfather had getting around.”

  “Age treats no one kindly, not even us.” Aoife nodded solemnly. “What route are you planning to take?”

  “We’ll take the north road out for a few miles and then cut east. It’d be easier going for us if we just followed the slope north, but there’s no telling where we’d find an easy way across the Fuilteach. Then there’s the fog. Starting farther upslope hopefully means crossing before we’re forced into it.”

  Aoife nodded. “Country gets rough out that way.”

  I shrugged. “And given the path the infested followed, we’re more likely to run into shit like hill trolls, gougers, and other nasties the closer we get to the river that direction, too. I talked it over with Fiachra last night. With luck, the area we’ll be in will be just as devoid of life as the one Tomas walked through last year.”

  Aoife’s face lifted to the sky, and she said nothing for several long moments before turning to me. “It sounds like you’ve planned about as much as any of us can. I wish I could see you off, but I’m supposed to meet with Albert and several of the larger families shortly.”

  I offered a friendly smile. “I understand, Aoife. The job never stops.”

  Her eyes remained on mine for a heartbeat before she nodded swiftly. “May Aoibheann watch over the two of you and see you back safely.”

  I watched the harvester stride off.

  The moment she rounded the corner and disappeared behind a building, Tomas cleared his throat and commented, “That’s unusual.”

  I glanced over to find the bard chewing on the stem of some grassland plant gone to seed. For a moment, it made me think about my time stationed near the deep south. “What is?”

  His eyes flicked over to me. “Harvesters don’t tend to cluck like hens over their chicks.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Most chicks stay safely in the nest, Tomas.”

  “The smart ones, anyway.” The bard grunted and spat something out. Grinning, he added. “One of these days, I’ll figure out how you catch all their eyes, you know.”

  I turned my eyes skyward, looking for the hawk. “I doubt that.”

  Tomas snorted. “How do you figure?”

  Grinning, I checked my watch and answered, “You’re likely to find a set of eyes on you first. Won’t need to figure it out, then.”

  Tomas laughed. “Fat chance of that, at least in the way I’d prefer anyway.”

  Once the chuckling died down, I struck for an honest question. “You seem to be in a rush to find someone to warm your bed, Tomas.”

  Next to me, the bard’s fidgeting stopped. A few seconds later, he spat again before answering in a quiet voice, “It’s more than that. A lot more.”

  The hawk cried out, and I caught sight of it as it winged over into a dive. When it disappeared from view on the far side of the buildings, I looked over. Tomas’s eyes were on the dirt just beyond his boots as he worked silently on the stem in his mouth.

  I prompted him with a gentle, “Hmm?”

  He gave a weak shrug and shook his head. “I’m good. I’ll be back in a minute, no need to leave with a full bladder.”

  Watching Tomas wander off, I couldn’t help but wonder what was eating at him or why he felt he couldn’t talk about it. He wasn’t entirely wrong that I’d been the focus of quite a bit of attention, but I had no control over that.

  He also had no way to know the vast majority of that attention had not been positive. The number of furtive glances filled with fear, distrust, or even hate I’d noticed, the people who turned around and walked some other direction the moment they noticed me, all of them had left their own isolating impression. The only people who really reacted positively, at least until after we returned with Jenna, were the harvesters I worked and trained with. Maybe that was his point of fixation?

  I shrugged to myself and craned my head skyward, resting it on the wall behind me. Nothing to be done for it now, but it certainly needed addressing before it blew up into something bigger.

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  Before I could think more on the problem, the clatter of a cart navigating dirt streets reached my ears. Within seconds, the source rounded the corner not far down from me and turned in my direction.

  In an eyeblink, I knew one of the passengers was the man I waited for, and not because I could see his face. The driver and two passengers were of healthy build and sat straight, while the much thinner man between the two in the back sat bent and haggardly.

  I pushed off the wall as the driver slowed and raised a hand in greeting.

  “Mister Byrne, I presume?” the young man driving asked as he stopped.

  “That’d be me,” I answered with a nod.

  “Sorry we’re a bit late,” he said while he secured the reins. “Between the weather and the road, my grandfather isn’t doing terribly well.”

  Splitting my attention between the driver and the passengers, I answered with a warm smile. “Having helped take care of my grandfather in his twilight years, I understand.”

  The two passengers in the back, both burly men who looked roughly my age, helped the elderly man to his feet and carefully guided him to the back while the driver came around toward me.

  The driver rubbed his horse’s neck and extended his hand toward me. “I’m Edrick. Edrick Fitzroy.”

  “Samuel Byrne, though my friends call me Sam.”

  Edrick clearly sized me up as we shook hands. “Build like that, soldier?”

  I nodded. “Ten years in service, eleven here in a few months. Grip and callouses, safe to assume you’re a metalworker of some sort?”

  Edrick broke into a wide smile. “Aye. Born with a hammer in my hand, it feels like. Still apprenticed to my father, though. So, what’s this about?”

  “Ed, stop badgering the man!” one of passengers grumbled while gently lowering the older man. “You’ll find out in a minute.”

  Edrick flushed and gave me a nervous smile. “Sorry.”

  Watching the two gently support and lead the fragile old man to me hurt in ways I hadn’t felt in quite some time as I kept seeing my grandfather in the old man’s jerky movements. Getting a good look at the three as the neared, I realized the two must be brothers and made a mental bet that the bulkier of the two, the one that had groused at Edrick, was Edrick’s father. Based off the thin streaks of gray in his hair that didn’t grace the other, I also bet he was the elder son.

  When they stepped up, the elder Fitzroy looked about, clearly confused. “Oi, why’d you bring me here, Jay? I told you we needed to go to Benny’s bar.”

  The bigger brother rested a massive hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Dad, the Kharkans burnt down Benny’s place year before last.”

  “Oh.” The man’s eyes narrowed, clarity clearly dancing by, and then his face flushed. “Fucking Kharkans. We aught to gut the bastards where they stand—”

  I forestalled the older son’s reaction and stepped into his father’s line of sight. “You’re a bit late for that.”

  The old man’s eyes narrowed once again. “Who are you and why would I be late? I just got here, and all those bastards should be tucked in bed behind you like the children they are.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. The man clearly had spirit. “Because if you wanted to gut them, you should’ve been here last week. I beat you to it.” I extended my hand. “Samuel Byrne. Your name, sir?”

  Like his grandchild, the old man eyed me warily but quickly smiled and eagerly shook. “Wyk. Wyk Fitzroy. Shame. Been a while since my last bloodbath; I’m out of practice. About time someone did something about those cretins. I swear, things have gone to shit around here.”

  For a moment, it looked like he was about to say more, but confusion clouded his face, and he looked to the younger son.

  The two shared a whispered conversation that went back and forth a few times. When Wyk’s eyes once again focused on me, they were clearer. “Ah, you’re the one who freed the Green from those Kharkan bastards. They tell me you need my advice. What can the Acadian Third do for you?”

  Something about the man’s face seemed familiar. “Well, sir, we’re preparing to scout the area around Annesport.”

  Wyk blinked and his posture straightened into something I’d expect from a man less than half his age. His eyes focused on me with crystal clarity. “Well then. What unit are you with?”

  “I’m with the Syr. We’ve heard there might be survivors.”

  Wyk’s brow came down and the way he looked at me wrote encyclopedias of skepticism and doubt. “I don’t know who told you that, but trust me, you won’t even find bones out that way. If anything lived through that, it’d be the last thing you want to meet. Likely the last thing you will meet.”

  “Survivors told me that, Wyk. Slavers got them, brought them back this way before they escaped.”

  Wyk’s expression seemed pained as he blinked a few times and he stuck his hand into his tunic. “Survivors, you say? From Annesport?”

  I nodded. “From the east side of the river, but there’s a good chance people from Annesport might’ve fled with them.”

  I barely noticed the flask he retrieved until the cap was off and he was knocking it back. The wolf floating just beneath the silver was unmistakable.

  Wyk cleared his throat as he capped the flask and looked me in the eye. “Well then, it’s a hell of a walk, but we’d best get to it then.”

  I knew by the determination on Wyk’s face that he was completely, deadly serious. I also knew I had to be remarkably gentle in how I worded my response. Find me a soldier who likes being told they have to stay behind when their brothers are already in danger, and I’ll show you a man who has no business being in uniform.

  “I could certainly use the help.”

  Wyk’s expression darkened. “But?”

  “We’re not sure how many survivors we’ll find, if we find any. You know just how messy things got, and there’s no telling if it’s still that bad out there.”

  The old man scratched at his ear before slowly nodding. “That’s fair, I guess. It did get pretty bad.”

  Before he had a chance to ruminate any further to find a reason to keep pressing, I spoke up, “That said, there are two major things you can help us with right now.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “The Syr put together a task force of specialist scouts, but the only person here who has actually been out that way is you. I know one Acadian unit wore light and dark blue, but I don’t know the colors for any of the other units. If I run into any surviving Acadian forces, I need to make sure they know we’re friendly, so if you remember any of their colors, recognition codes, or passphrases, I could really use them.”

  Sudden suspicion subtly replaced the eagerness in Wyk’s eyes. He leaned his head toward his eldest son and whispered something.

  Said son leaned down and I caught his whispered reply: “The captain said they were on the level, dad. He’s the one who asked us to come meet with them, remember?”

  Wyk seemed confused for a heartbeat before clarity dawned on his face. He shot me an embarrassed smile. “Ah, right. Sorry, can never be too careful. Spies can be anywhere.”

  I responded with a warm smile. “They’d be pretty shitty spies if they couldn’t.”

  Wyk’s eyes sparkled. “Aye, and who’d pay good coin for shitty spies? Speaking of coin, you’re clearly not a long-ear, but you’re working for them. Surely you’re paid well?”

  I answered with a shrug and a knowing conspiratorial smile. “Did they ever pay you more when duty called you into danger?”

  “Ranja’s teats, no!” Wyk burst into throaty laughter. “Gods, I wish they did. I could’ve retired long before the business at Annesport.” He turned his smile to his sons. “But then I never would’ve met their mother and these three wouldn’t be here. Or their siblings.”

  I clapped the old soldier on the shoulder. “More coin never hurts, but sometimes what you really need doesn’t glitter.”

  I caught Wyk eying our packs on the ground behind me as he chuckled. “No, definitely not; though one tends to buy the other if your standards are low enough. I’m happy I kept mine high.”

  Grinning at his sons’ obvious discomfort, I stepped back a little to give Wyk a better view of our gear. “High standards are always good. As you can see, we’re going in prepared.”

  “Aye,” Wyk noted, no longer even trying to be subtle as he studied the packs. “That looks quite a bit heavier than what we carried at Annesport. Add any sort of armor and you’ll have a hell of a time just getting there. Are you sure we can’t take you part of the way?”

  “I’m probably going to regret saying no, but that’ll be sometime tomorrow morning when I wake up and ask myself what the hell I signed up for.”

  Wyk chuckled a moment. “How far are you planning for the day?”

  I shrugged. “Fifteen miles? Twenty? However far we can make before sunset.”

  The old soldier looked sunward and winced. “Leaving this late in the day? That’s certainly not a pace I could keep. Hell, with as much as it looks in those packs, I hate to admit I might not have even managed it back in my prime.” Wyk’s face scrunched up in distaste, and he grunted. “I’m reminded how long it’s been since I’ve been on the field. Not a pleasant moment no matter how you slice it. Still, you said there were two ways we could help. What’s the second?”

  “I’m sure you’re aware how pissed off the Kharkans are going to be when they find out we put their pet tyrant in the dirt,” I began and Wyk grinned. “Aoife, the Syr captain, is meeting with Albert and a few of the bigger families here shortly. Seeing as your sons are clearly smiths, I’m thinking you might want to be there. The Green is going to need every ounce of steel that can be pounded into shape, as fast as it can be hammered.”

  Wyk spent a few moments considering my words carefully before making a quick nod. “Aye, that sounds about right. Still, all the steel in the world won’t help you without the arms to swing it. Most of our ingots came from the Kharkan markets, though.”

  I shrugged. “Most of that’s above my pay. I just go where they tell me to, but talk with Aoife, she needs to know what can be done. As for the steel, I’ve heard rumor of a new iron vein recently discovered near here. High quality, even. Oh, and we brought a friend from Cadecon.”

  Wyk’s brow rose. “From Cadecon? Ranja’s teats! Jan, help me back in the wagon. We can’t miss this opportunity.”

  As the cart started to pull away a short time later, Wyk shouted something to the driver that brought the cart to a sudden halt. Supported by both sons, the old soldier struggled to the edge of the cart. “Lad, I almost forgot. You still need that information.”

  I grinned. “Just make sure you tell Aoife what you recall. She’ll get it to me.”

  Mollified, Wyk gave a swift nod and started to return to his seat before freezing once more. A few seconds later, he was leaning over the side of the cart, holding his flask out to me. “Take this. If someone wants proof, show them this and tell them that Lieutenant Wyk Fitzroy of the Acadian Third heavy infantry sent you.”

  Surprised, I gently took the flask from Wyk’s outstretched hands. “Are you sure?”

  “Aye. If’n you find a good place for it, bury it in Acadia with my men. If not?” Wyk’s eyes grew distant for a heartbeat. “If not, bring it back for my sons. May the gods speed you on your way, soldier, and may Ranja’s hearth stay lit for your arrival.”