True change takes place in the imagination.

Pre-Fall Poet

Equipped with Petra’s maps, the road to the south was not hard to follow in the plains of the Dakota Marches. A recent cold had frozen the partially thawed patches of snow, but the weather remained mostly clear, promising easy conditions.

The western plains of Dakota were a much different landscape than the one they were used to, Johanna thought again. There were large plains in the Marches of the Montana, she knew from school lessons, but they were few and mostly to the south. The wilderness that blanketed much of the northwest was something different. Fields clustered around farming hubs, surrounded by white forest.

Here, much like the trek to Fallen Hill, she could see unimpeded for dozens of miles. As the boots crunched over the still-frozen ground, she contemplated the almost alien landscape, so different from her childhood’s. Landmarks dotted the road, pylons of Ancient steel that were kept more or less intact as road markers showing the way.

Out in the distance, she spotted quickly a small palisade, with smoke coming over. A distant farming compound, probably not too dissimilar to Anasta, briefly evocating ancient nostalgia.

The farm complex – Mignon – was another useful travel marker for their map, and they slowly progressed, never coming closer than three miles from it.

As morning made the way to afternoon, then getting closer to evening, she noticed one of the small wood copses that dotted the plains and quickly decided it would work as a place to make camp for the night. They had made good progress she guessed, a third to halfway to the Missouri.

As they dropped their packs, she contemplated the area that still had a lot of frozen snow. She wanted to try something. She hadn’t during their trek north, but thinking about her recent ability, she felt it was… well suited for the wintertime. It didn’t look as burning hot as her flaming hand or her fireballs.

She went on all four, because the range was quite short, inhaled, reached inward for the instinctive mental trigger she knew was there, and breathed slowly.

Rather than the small white plume of breath, an outpouring of darker stuff came, as she spewed forth the hot steam.

As she’d expected, under the onslaught of the steam, the frozen snow patches evaporated extremely quickly. She moved slowly her head, keeping her breath flowing out steadily, clearing the floor, until she started feeling faint and had to stop and inhale.

Four pairs of hands clapped behind her. She turned and threw a look at the others.

“Don’t you have wood to get? It feels like I have to do everything.”

Tom took a contrite air immediately and moved into the miniature wood. She took a few short breaths and spewed super-heated steam again.

Overall, it took her nearly six times of blowing steam, but she had the last remnants of snow cleared out, making enough room for the three tents and a nice camp area. She stood up, cleaned up her knees and hands, and moved to her backpack, to get the cooking materials out, Petra helping.

“You should have done that on the way to Fallen Hill.”

Tom was quickly back with some wood, and she immediately started a fire with her hand, letting the pot’s snow melt normally, without using her abilities.

Sometimes, it’s worth doing it the old way.

“It’s a bit weird going out, knowing I’m unlikely to come back for maybe years. If ever,” Petra noted, slurping the trail food mix.

“Believe me, it’s the same way for me. For us,” Johanna replied.

“You didn’t explain too much, back when we were with Mark,” the former bartender said.

“Well, you know the basics. We found that weird skeleton in a ruin near Valetta. We were all long children, unlikely to get good opportunities unless something really bad happened, and so we went there to get money. It’s good money if you’re not too afraid of Changed beasts or mana stuff.”

“I’ve seen that. Two weeks and even splitting in five, it’s more than I made in two months at Timothy’s. I should have done that years ago.”

“It all depends on how much unsalvaged stuff there is around. We’re lucky at Valetta. Changestorms created that ruin nearby, mostly the same way Fallen Hill worked out, and it wasn’t heavily scavenged during the decades after the Fall. You haven’t the same amount salvage here, and it wasn’t left undisturbed.”

“Ruins south,” Tom noted.

“I’ve seen it on the map. Closer than Fallen Hill, but it was less promising. We might as well see if there’s something when passing close by. Not too much salvage, since we’re on the move, but any additional money is good. Will be good rather, once we settle down in Independence and start planning the expedition to Washington DC.”

“I hadn’t heard of it until you spoke of it,” Petra admitted.

“Neither did I. The main city, the capital of the Ancient’s Union. That’s where everything was decided back then.”

“Kind of like Nashville then?” Petra asked.

“Probably. But one of the buildings there was called the Library of Congress.”

“Millions of books. Like those we found in that church,” Petra half-whispered. “What guarantee do you have that it still stands?”

“I… saw it.”

“You’ve been there?”

“No. I was shown it. Up until then, well… it was a bit of a weird thing. That skeleton sprayed Mana all over us, a big blow. And then we started to have those things happening, but that’s mana for you. It was useful, but you could still think it was mana fitting us somehow.”

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

Johanna looked at Petra.

“He did change us. Not Change, capital-C – god, I hope we’re not made into a Changed species – but that’s enough. The Ancient gives us Talents when we need them. Then, once we found books, those parchments. For those like you, who were not there. And then, he brought me into some kind of dreamland.”

“But it wasn’t a dream. Not just a dream,” Petra said.

“More than a dream. He showed me that Ancient library. And once I’d read enough, I could recognize what he showed me then. It’s in ruins, but… no one but he has ever been there. Or maybe he’s never been there. Maybe he can just see that far, the way he looks upon us.”

“And I’m going to help you get there.”

“That’s what we hope.

“It’s like a story.”

“It’s different when it happens to you, believe me.”

The ruins became visible in the mid-afternoon. Out in the distance, it was hard to see, but it was clearly traces of the old-style buildings that Johanna associated with the Ancients. Not large, though.

As they came closer, she took a measure of their find. It was maybe 500 yards wide, she estimated. A couple of blocks of the Ancient ruins near Valetta, no more than that. There were a few buildings that were almost intact, but most were caved in, roofs dropped, or entirely gone.

“You said there are Ursids there.”

“What Mark said, yes,” Tom replied.

“Won’t bears sleep in winter?” Peter asked.

“Normal ones, like what Mistress Vanu used to tell about, maybe. Ursids? Who knows? Besides, with the weather, they might be up and around already.”

One of the things she immediately noted was the lack of any telltale manalight plume that would have indicated the presence of an artifact. They could have gotten lucky, but artifacts were rare. Having four right now was kind of ridiculous, and a testament to her – and Petra’s – ability to spot them from some distance.

Despite the lack of a plume, she spotted a slightly glowing wall.

“Mana pool not too far.”

“I see it,” Petra replied.

“See or avoid?” Peter asked.

“I’m tempted to see. We’ve been in mana zones…”

“Although those didn’t really register, except for that clearing.”

“… and I’m not sure mana accumulation is that dangerous.”

“You’re thinking your Skeleton protects you?” Petra asked.

“No idea. That’s… possible.”

The former bartender winced.

The manalight splashes came from what looked like a large rectangular building, now almost level to the ground. There were, oddly preserved, tables of massive wood, still wrapped with some ribbons of whiteish Ancient material, but little directly salvageable. Petra stayed well away from the mana pool, while the four investigated.

Tom pointed to a series of chests, slightly distorted. They were not of the usual type Johanna had seen at various points, made of the weird materials Ancients were so fans of. These looked like wooden chests, with heavy metallic reinforcements, although they had distorted shapes somehow without the wood breaking.

Mana does weird things to ruins, she thought almost absently.

Tom’s enhanced strength didn’t do much against non-living beings, so Peter ended up using Swordcutter very carefully to cut open the first chest, which appeared to be empty. The second, however, had a weird crumbling of carved masses of frozen bubbles. Johanna and Tom pulled out the materials and found what looked like cans of something. The names were illegible, and the tops of the cans had suffered some damage, although she could tell from the weight the cans still held some of their contents in solid form.

She debated taking those but ultimately decided to focus on what she was certain would sell. No sense in encumbering themselves while traveling.

The third chest was full of metal tools. Pliers, hammers, screwdrivers, and similar, were dumped there haphazardly, over a sea of unidentifiable sludge.

The fourth chest had cleaning chiffons. Folded cleaning chiffons – one of the carton wrappers said so in perfectly legible terms. She passed on those too.

They moved into a different building, one that looked more like a house, based on what remained of the plans. This time, they found a stair going down indicating a basement, which she thought might be a better prospect. After making some torches which she lit, they went down and started ransacking.

Jackpot.

A set of 6 bottles. The label on the bottles themselves was gone, but the bottles themselves were still set on a wood display, and a still legible metallic plate proclaimed “6 classic malts”. Malt, she knew, was the main component of many spirits, modern and old. Ancient spirit drinks, no matter where they came from, always sold well, just like the ones from Fallen Hill. She handed the bottles to Laura who carefully wrapped them before putting them into her backpack.

Glasses went with the bottles. Not fancy decorated ones, but still Ancient glasses. Peter found a set of tools again, including an ax. This went on Tom’s side, in case.

They went out of the basement and headed to the next ruin where Peter froze, and pointed out further down the ruin’s street.

A bear. And given the slightly off look compared to illustrations of bears and its almost too bright blueish-white fur, an Ursid and Changed beast, not a normal version.

“It’s not as if we weren’t warned,” she whispered.

She readied her hands in fireball position while Petra moved to her side, ready to lock the beast in place. The Ursid was at the extreme of their range and was probably capable of dodging. Peter was already nowhere to be seen, and Tom had his current hammer in hand.

The group watched the Ursid, and the Ursid watched back, not moving. Johanna became aware of a weird sound, at the limit of her hearing.

Is that a warning sound?

Nobody moved. After a tense minute, she realized the changed beast was definitively not going to attack, although the almost impossible-to-hear sound indicated the Ursid was very, very wary.

The bear-like creature was the one to break the staring contest as it turned away and went around the corner of a ruin.

“What happened?” Petra asked.

“For some reason, they didn’t want to fight,” Johanna wondered.

“She,” Peter’s voice came from the side.

“She?”

“Found what’s behind her. There’s a kind of hole dug… and two little copies of that bear. Real tiny, barely larger than my hand.”

Johanna blinked in surprise.

“Really?”

“Schoolteacher said bears are very aggressive when it comes to offspring,” Tom informed her.

“That’s a Changed Ursid, though. Who knows?”

“Maybe. Let’s avoid that area of the ruins then. I’d rather not fight a half-ton Ursid, even with our Talents.”

“Don’t want me to slice it by surprise?” Peter asked.

She made a face.

“And let the little cubs die?”

“It’s Changed beasts,” Laura noted.

“Still… those ruins have had Ursids for as long as those people in Zahl remember. It’s their ruins. We’re just passing through, and taking what they don’t need.”

The Level 6 Elite Frost Ursid was an interesting sight. The non-combat had yielded a tiny smidge of XP, but it was Peter’s look at the hole where the she-bear’s offspring were holed that sparked some interest. Moore had never ever seen such small bears. But both had a “level 0 Ursid” label, confirming that you did not get levels early in life. It was only later… and this rule, at least, held true for the Changed Beasts as much as it did for people.

Moore also noted the experience gained. Exactly 100XP, 1/6th of the 100XP times level, which meant the experience had perfectly equally split between all six “present”, including Petra. Although none of the descriptors displayed a group or team stuff, it did look like there was a standard group size of six. Above, such as their time with Kunst, contribution or some exotic factor played a part in distributing XP.

He also wondered how the division was made, and on which criteria the system was deciding who was involved and not in the stand-off that had occurred. Did the system read intent? Was just being there enough?

Light snow started late afternoon on the next day, as they spotted the banks of what had to be the Missouri. There was no real road, but a trail following it eastward. Two more days, she judged, and they’d get to the frontier of the Dakotas and see if the light salvage would sell.

Johanna didn’t think the quick scoping was a bust, but neither was it much of a success. The ruins were too small, after all, they had studiously avoided the area where the mother Ursid kept her cubs, and they didn’t have much time anyway. They’d seen the bear pop up again at least once, and she'd watched them very carefully. But she thought they’d communicated somehow that they were not going to come and disturb her small ones, and the mother seemed content with this.

The idea of small Changed beasts was weird for Johanna. She realized the Changed beasts had to come from somewhere, and that meant little Ursids growing up.

Although she hadn’t spotted any male Ursid around.

The backpacks were still full although, by the standard of their usual scavenging, it was mostly junk. She hoped they’d get something good from it.

She watched out from the tent flap, as tiny and distant snowflakes danced again across the plains, and Tom kept watch under an awning.