The walk back was a loud, joyous affair with Blake and the vast majority of their wounded already walking with them. And if the walk out had felt almost intimate, closed in by mist and the quiet of the morning, the return was nothing of the kind. The afternoon sun was beating down on them with merciless cheer and the gossip of happy men fought against bird song and the bleating of the flocks.

  Mostly that second one. The flocks in question, half centuries of sheep or goats, were dotted across the meadow. Well separated and moving at the slowest of ambles in pursuit of the frequent patches of waist high grasses and leaving behind a wide stripe barely ankle tall.

  He ran a proprietary eye over it all and nodded. It wasn’t being over grazed, though they were pushing up against the limits. They’d need to put a good deal more up before winter. Which meant some haying runs in the valley proper.

  He let the idea pass, well aware that between Ranier, James and Ermina, they had it well handled.

  Still, it was good to see the fruits of the work, including three dozen adventurers working out against one another in a sodded practice field. A field that quickly came to a halt as men lined up, then saluted the returning victorious army.

  Ethan clicked his tongue and Celler moved up to a light canter, circling the side closer to them in time to accept the salute with a wide wave of greeting. And well deserved from the small report Blake had offered.

  They’d done their duty of rift and monster suppression while the baronial forces were busy. Pushing themselves out to protect the flocks, woodlots and farms. He made a mental note. Good work needed to be recognized as much as bad had to be punished.

  But that could wait!

  He had to force himself to settle down. To ride at a slow, easy pace ahead of the 6-man wide column. Unfocusing his eyes a bit and falling into the familiar pace of travel. Aware and watchful, but letting the time stream past.

  Not that this state lasted long. The meadow wasn’t quite five miles long and even with the heavy troops, it wasn’t that long of a march. Plenty soon enough, he pulled to a stop in front of the large dairy complex carved into the side of the ridge. Giving two dozen of some of his favorite workers a wave as they streamed forward around their half-milked animals to peek over the wall of half doors and gates.

  He took his time, patting Celer on the neck and enjoying the evening breeze as the men marched in, breaking off from the column into mostly disciplined blocks. Near a 160 heavy infantry neatly spaced, a block of 20 Lancers as still as statues, horses and men. And of course, 8 blocks of Alpine Hunters. They were, hmmm, hardened. A bit less civilian. When you act the part long enough, it stops being an act. And long enough was a function of what happened, not how long.

  “Well done!” He let the words carry to everyone watching. And that did mean everyone. The dairy workers beside him. The shepherds spread around the meadow. The adventures in the distance. Even the scouts in their watch tower atop the Stone, towering eight or nine stories above them. Not to mention across the river. Let them all hear and rejoice.

  “A threat to our home formed and we PUT IT DOWN!”

  A wild explosion of cheers filled the meadow and extended beyond.

  “I’d like to say that it won’t be a regular occurrence. But that is for the Gods to decide. What we can decide, what we have decided, is how WE will deal with threats when they come. And the answer lies in fading ruins behind you!”

  The cheers were grimmer, less joyful and with a bit of bloodlust in them. He nodded in agreement. That was how he felt as well. He raised a hand for silence again; there was no reason to draw this out. “When you go home tonight, let your brothers in arms, your fellow villagers, your wives, your children. Let them know this: I am proud of you! Proud of our people and our home! Now go! See to your gear and any wounds first. But then we drink! An extra ration of wine will be sent to the pubs and archery ranges!”

  Laughter and shouts of agreement rang out as he grinned down at them. “Decurions!”

  “Decade –“ The call rang out up and down the line. Then in a massed response “Dis missed!”

  He turned away, with a wave to the lancers to follow as he rode up the steep hill and across the drawbridge. The men could have a break. But alas, he somehow doubted the same would be waiting for him.

  Then again, he smiled as he spotted an equally beaming figure in the shadow of the gates ahead. One with her distinctly rounded stomach cupped protectively by a shapely pair crossed arms. “Glory to the Victor! Welcome home my lord.”

  By no means was it all bad!

  ___

  Ethan strode into the council room, scratching at damp hair with a towel in one hand and the other curled about an equally damp Ermina. He snorted at a last whispered jest, then regretfully turned his attention to the room in front of him.

  A half-filled room, he reflected. And much the poorer with James, Miro and Sigismund busy down in Promise and Blake dealing with the remaining wounded.

  Then again, at least Andrew was back. And wasn’t that a bit of a miracle! In fact, “Do my eyes deceive me? I have a 5th knight still?” He sallied at the worthy in question. Looking a bit ragged in his plate mail and a worn hunter’s cloak. His great bow and quiver leaned against the wall behind him, along with his helm and spear.

  He was cupping a bowl of soup between both hands, blowing at the steaming surface. He merely raised an eyebrow. “My Lord is of course entitled to dictate my whereabouts.” He offered pompously.

  Ethan snorted softly at that, but Andrew continued on fatuously. “Since he has so far declined to do so, I’ll reluctantly take it as permission given.”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Ethan waved a dismissive hand. Despite the jester act, it was more or less the truth. It was a chancy thing making friends with Beasts. But a possible one. Unlike the monsters, beasts were born of this plane and could ally with their fellow inhabitants. And success would bring considerable benefits. The rare medicines Andrew had brought back from the Aetherhorn’s range were already worth ten times as much as the frequently disappearing fodder.

  “Sir Conner.” He offered, giving the older man a respectful nod. “I thank you for holding down the fort. No trouble, I trust?”

  “A bit. Lost some sheep without the screen of Hunters.” Ethan shrugged. Unfortunate, but he’d expected as much. “But the rest is no’ so bad.”

  Ermina coughed softly as she stepped to the table and sat on the chair Ethan pulled out.

  Conner’s eye twitched but he didn’t slow down. “Farmers pulled in the summer squash an’ a portion of the peas. And, if yous-” he faintly emphasized the slurred word to Ethan's secret amusement, “-will look about a bit, you might get a welcome bit o’ surprise.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow at the man, as Ermina gave him a disappointed look and tapped distinctly on the table.

  A table with a white gem. Not a red. “It ticked over?”

  He flicked his mind over the now familiar controls quickly.

  “We hadn’t hit 86% before I left, yes?” He asked, more to start the conversation then in any doubt.

  “I was expecting to hit it soon, but yes. Just shy of 88%. Your Exterminatus had several rewards.” Ermina chimed in. Shifting, uncomfortably with her increasing size despite the small cushion.

  “Several?”

  “Yes. I’m sure Sir Conner will inform you of the communication issues and the watch failures that occurred-“ Conner gave a sharp, fierce nod. With a look that promised he’d do just that soon enough. “-but Ranier and I had to deal with several townside, hmmm, annoyances.”

  Ethan turned to the Steward with a raised eyebrow. “Panic, my lord.” He offered suscinctly. “Few things are better at making men stupid. Aye, and women too. Add to that boredom and the idle hands that go with it. Wood, metal and even clay supplies fell short when the gathers were conscripted to dig your fortifications, you see. Put the two together and you get true blue foolishness.”

  “Will I need to take any official notice of anything?”

  Ranier glanced at Ermina with his own eyebrow raised.

  She hesitated, then shook her head. “No My Lord. Best to leave it. For now. Some of those most in need of a reprimand are those we can’t afford to lose. Discretion towards their well-deserved-“ The two words were said with bared and slightly gritted teeth. “-punishment isn’t a poor reward for good service. And since it was nipped in the bud without sprouting, I feel no need to take it any further.”

  Ethan hid a grin. Discrete the punishments might be, but he had no doubt they’d not soon be forgot. His lady had a way with such.

  “Good enough.” Finding such faults was a major goal afterall. “And I’m glad at least something worked out in this…” He checked his initial response with a glance at Ermina and his soon-to-be child. “-this scatological farce of a rift.”

  Ermina huffed, giving him a sharp look while Adelbert coughed softly into his fist behind him and Guile openly guffawed into his cup of wine.

  “That bad?” Conner asked quietly.

  “I took near enough to six centuries into a small rift Conner. Most of them were a bit under leveled, but by no means all. And I still lost five men. Spent four days doing it for paltry loot. You tell me? How much didn’t get done while we were dealing with it?”

  He sighed, catching the eyes of Ermina and Ranier. “A great deal My Lord.” Ranier answered for all three.

  Conner grunted and gave Guile a questioning glance.

  The large red head rubbed softly at his chest, his only mail-clad chest, Ethan was amused to note. Had he dropped it off at the smithy already? “I like a good fight, but Ethan’s right. That rift was a mind fuck of a shit show.”

  “Language!” Ermina barked, incensed.

  “We see that Malefic tag again, I say we call in the Tier 2’s. Smash it, and fast. No feeding the recruits experience.” He continued, if with an apologetic grimace in her direction.

  Ethan nodded softly. Tier 2’s and the best of the tier 1’s, perhaps. He’d not want to go in with too few bodies either.

  “Leo?”

  The scout extended a hand, thumb out, then rotated it down. He froze for a moment, then with an abrupt, emphatic motion, dipped the thumb down and back up.

  “And you lad?” Conner shook his head in near disbelief before turning to Adelbert, giving his considerably more scratched and dented armor a concerned glance.

  “I’d suggest burning and salting the ashes, Sir Knight. Unfortunately, someone tried before us, and it didn’t take.”

  Ethan snorted softly, reaching down and filling his cup, and Ermina’s, with the well-watered table wine.

  Ermina glanced back and forth between the three clearly unhappy men and decided to forgo comment. Mostly. “So what do you consider ‘paltry’ loot?”

  Ethan waved a hand at Adelbert and leaned back, wrapping his free arm around Ermina’s shoulders.

  “My Lady, we recovered 21 minute and 1 small core. Fire, Darkness and Chaos the Magister informed us, and he was rather obsessively washing his hands when he said it. Nearly 200 pounds of an unknown metallic ore that inspect calls Bloodiron. Nearly 2000 tendons that should make excellent bow strings if the rather rank smell can be removed. The Magister was hopeful. Well over a wagonload of scales with a similar problem and the Magister was considerably less hopeful here.”

  He considered, then shrugged. “Some considerably better materials form the boss that edge towards the 2nd tier and of course the rift reward.”

  He reached down and picked up a padded backpack. Fishing inside for a few moments before pulling out the well-wrapped jar of wine. He unwrapped the cloak used as padding and set the rather substantial container on the table in front of them.

  “It’s-“

  “Vino Fortunas. Tycelus’s Gift.” Ermina offered with a bit of wonder, a tone that was wistful, almost innocent. It was not a tone he’d heard from her before. And somehow he felt that was a shame. She reached out to run her fingers over the delicate carved exterior. The bas-relief of the two-faced goddess and the parable of fortune offered and unrecognized. “My, I haven’t seen one since I was 14. A Fata Fete is a true wonder. And in the Duke’s palace at that.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that you were on such terms with that… duke.” He forced his voice to stay polite. If barely.

  She smiled at him. “We weren’t and aren’t as you well know. But one does not refuse an invitation to a feast of fate.”

  Ethan stared, as did Conner and Andrew, but Adelbert and Ranier were nodding along as if that explained everything.

  “Which is?” He asked, fixing his squire with a look.

  “Ah? It’s a, well that is it’s considered-“ Adelbert stumbled, trying to explain what he clearly considered obvious. Ranier stepped in to help with a small smile.

  “The vessel is a gift from the Goddess of fortune and fate. To refuse to partake would be impious. And impious to the Lady of Fortune?”

  Ethan snorted. No indeed. Bad luck would show up for any man, no need to beg for more.

  “But beyond even that, the grand parties arranged to partake are in essence a religious ritual. An offering. To refuse is to refuse her favor. To act against a member is to spit on her gifts. Such parties greatly improve the gravitas of the host, not to mention being a very useful form of forced neutrality. Even avowed enemies will sit politely at the same table, without fear for their safety. I know of no less than 3 grand blood feuds from the histories, where peace was negotiated at such an event.”

  “Yes, yes, that is true.” Ermina broke in testily. “But it's missing the main point. It's not just a symbol or diplomatic tool. It is intrinsically valuable. The party is an expression of this, not merely an excuse!”

  Ranier started, then bowed his head, awkwardly refusing to argue the point. She glanced back at Adelbert for support only to see the boy awkwardly scratch at his head. “I, ah, I’ve never had the privilege.” He admitted.

  She sighed. “Let me tell you a story. I was but 14, as I said, and it was- and is, a memory I treasure. –“

  ___