Each meeting occurs at the precise moment for which it was meant.

Pre-Fall popular author.

Johanna thought that New Sandusky felt more like a proper city rather than the ones she’d seen so far. It was the full palisade, she felt. Sure, there were quite a few structures outside of the city limits, but they were warehousing and other trade buildings, not people’s housing.

After the trek across nearly a third of the State of Independence, the familiarity was pleasant. Not that there weren’t things to appreciate, but the whole center of the continent had recovered relatively quickly from the Fall, and grown and modernized fast after the end of the Wars of Unification. It made her feel very off-center. Nedalshe was only one example of the wealth and comfort that went along with it, and the contrast with the Marches of the North, where they and Petra were from was extreme.

Although she could see herself getting used to it. One day.

“So this time, you unlocked Authority,” Johanna noted.

“After Agility in Nedalshe,” Laura confirmed.

“No Authority or Perception yet for me,” Petra noted.

The Earth Shaper had been able to activate Dexterity and Empathy during their stay in Nedalshe, but no new scrolls would activate this time. It looked like Laura’s hypothesis, about accumulating some form of immaterial potential or currency was correct. Johanna was slightly disappointed that none of the parchments were activating for her. Either the Ancient spent it as fast as she accumulated it, or all of her characteristics were too expensive for purchase.

Or maybe they were all wrong, and something entirely different was happening. She sighed and focused back on the immediate situation.

“Let’s do the usual look-see. I have a Myriam Carlin to visit, but we shouldn’t neglect anything of interest.”

“Especially if we stay here long-term,” Peter noted.

“It depends on who is salvaging. I would probably rather be closer to the east coast, but if that’s where potential recruits are, then it’s relatively well-placed. The Lake Marches are next door, it is not too close to the heavy mana zones. It’s just that Washington City is, what, 300 miles from here?” she acknowledged.

“I’ve seen zero sign of an Artifact,” Petra said.

“Same. Either there haven’t been many found around, or they were all sold.”

When Johanna was ushered into Carlin’s office, she got a massive shock. The elderly woman looked like she was in her early sixties, but she was also in a small chair with wheels on it. She pushed away from the desk attached to the wall and looked Johanna up and down.

“Looking surprised, girl? Been that way for almost a decade.”

Johanna moved to apologize, and the woman waved her down.

“You get one unsecured load on your legs, you get them all. Children were already all grown up, and it didn’t impact the important bits up there,” she said, tapping her head. “So, unless you can drag one of the Saintliest figures of history here, I’ll make do.”

There is a Saint here, but she probably can’t do it, Johanna thought. After all, Laura never could fix the hand of the Warden, just the surface of it. They were a decade too late.

The older woman took time to decipher the small note that Joel Maritin had written as an intro before looking back to Johanna, looking fairly amused for some reason.

“So, how does cousin Kitty fare in the cold Northwest? Casey’s grown up now, I think.”

Johanna spent the next five minutes exchanging small talk with the chair-bound woman.

“Catherine was always an odd one. Her husband’s homeland is all about the timber, wood products, and especially that odd-tasting maple syrup. Any weirder and you’d think it came from mana zones. So, she sent you to me.”

“Not directly.”

“Eh. And she owes you,” she noted.

Johanna frowned because she had not mentioned that part yet.

“Don’t look at me. Mail works fine, and it’s usually faster than ordinary travelers, let alone caravans. Joel forewarned me.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“Well, we could help, and it did not cost us anyway.”

“I’ll have to ask her directly. So, scavengers, eh,” Myriam said drily.

“Mind you,” she continued, “I don’t deal with Ancient stuff. Want the best woolen clothing this side of the continent, yep. I have booming exports to prove it. Ancient articles, even clothing that survived the decades, not too many regular opportunities there.”

She pointed a bony finger at Johanna.

“There is no official organization for that salvaging stuff,” she said, putting quotation marks around the “salvaging” word. “There’s business going on, yes. Most of the major ruins nearby have been wrung dry, but people ranging along the sides of the Lakes do find plenty still. But scavenging – sorry, salvaging – is mostly a small, independent team business, not a big enterprise.”

“If that’s the case, where do I find these? Is there a dedicated seller?”

Myriam shrugged.

“If you want to sell your stuff, Macintosh Genuine Items is the place. That family’s dealt with salvaged goods for generations” – pretty much like Grievar, Johanna thought – “and they’re the main exporter of the stuff. 50% of the things you’ll find for sale in the capital come from here through him. The scavengers themselves have a favorite haunt, I think, the High and Dry pub. It’s not an official place, just a common watering hole between jobs. Thinking of settling here?”

“Yes. If we can find some decent deal, that is.”

“Traveling has a way of depleting your purse. Especially if you can’t earn money on the way. Well, if you find nothing, come back. I can probably find someone with rooms to rent. Who knows, maybe you’ll have interesting clothing to sell in the future.”

Johanna took leave of the older woman, remembering Catherine’s warning of not getting too much in debt with her family. Joel had been nice, if very neutral, but Myriam seemed to be sniffing for an angle already.

Besides, it would be only clothing, not real valuables.

The High and Dry was pretty much a standard pub, with the odd outdoor placard with prices that seemed to be customary in these central states. A single type of fare, plenty of drinks, and nothing outside to signify it was dedicated to a specialized crowd.

Inside, it was moderately spacious, with well-built tables, and a medium-sized crowd. She noted the slightly rougher clothing and the majority of outdoorsman complexions that denoted people working away from the city, like farmers, lumberjacks, hunters… and scavengers.

She spotted a familiar-looking wood cube that someone was playing with, and for a second, she thought that Coby Hopkins and maybe his friend Farnsworth had followed them. But the face, she realized, was older, and unknown. Just an odd coincidence.

“Miss, welcome. New around here?” the barkeep said.

She had to smile at the remark. The pub looked definitively like a haunt for regulars.

“Yes. Me and my team just arrived. We’re planning some significant expeditions for scouting Ancient ruins, and I was told this was where I could get more information.”

“Well, you do find all kinds of people who do that. Of course, half of the crowd here is semi-active or retired, since the real ones are busy taking advantage of the early season.”

“So, who would I need to meet?”

“Miles, probably. Miles Bertram, that’s him there,” he pointed at a corner.

She moved to the table, asking “may I?” and the man raised a single eyebrow slightly exaggeratedly.

“Me and my team are looking for more people interested in an expedition. Or many, depending,” she simply said.

Miles Bertram didn’t answer, considering her, and simply gestured to the chair. Once she did, a small smile grew on his lips.

“Young and eager, I see. What brings you to New Sandusky? And what kind of expedition are you planning that needs people? Kids like you always dream of big scores before they learn how it works. But if you want some advice, I can do that.”

Johanna bristled internally at the “kid” remark. She might be young at 20, but she’d already faced a lot of dangers. Although, she didn’t show traces of those. Even the smallest scars vanished under Laura’s touch, after all, so she might look like she’d never lived a hard life.

“We’re thinking of a few preliminary scavenge expeditions into Ancient ruins. And then, once we’ve found what we need, a major expedition. To the east coast.”

The man nearly spat his drink. He took back control of himself, shook his head, and started to laugh.

“There’s a first time for everything. So that’s what you dream of? The biggest and baddest of mana zones, the ruins that no one visited. Looks like you’re still young enough to believe in your own bullshit.”

He swallowed a large gulp of beer, before continuing his tirade.

“And that is bullshit. Do you have any idea how the coast is? I’m sure you’ve read the books and all that, and they speak of the bad Changed and stuff. But until you’ve faced the real Changed, the Deep Changed, you think it’s all kiddy stories made to frighten you. Want my advice? Drop the profession and go back home, miss.”

“Name’s Milton. Johanna Milton.”

“Nice to meet you. You could be the Warden of Algonquin for all I care. Look, unlike you, I’ve been there. When I was younger, full of shit, and I believed the difference between me and a Hero was that thin,” he said, putting his fingers in a pinching sign.

“Oh, it was glorious, mind you. We ran the best band of looters you could imagine. And it lasted for years, until we thought ourselves so good, we decided to go into the Appalachians. Seeking un-plundered ruins, untouched by man and preserved by mana. And we ran into a real Deep Changed.”

The man suddenly shuddered, and she realized how much that encounter had to have affected him.

“And we ran, of course. A Deep Changed, that’s a death sentence, unless you have an army with you. And even then. So, we ran when that Araneid stumbled upon us. And because we ran, we lost only one person that day. Cartagh, a very good friend of mine.”

He swallowed another gulp of beer, before looking back at her.

“You can’t imagine what it is. So, drop it, little girl. Nobody’s going to the coast and lives to tell the tale. If that’s what you want of salvage, you won’t last long.”

“Single Deep Changed aren’t that dangerous,” she simply stated.

“Didn’t you listen to me… your books are full of…”

“We dealt with a Deep Erinax last year. Three different abilities, including an almost complete immunity to spears or swords, poisonous breath, screech sound attack, the works. We’ve dealt with Murids swimming into the ground or through walls. The only thing that ever got ever close to killing me was Lepuses. Those horns aren’t a joke if they catch you. But that was… when we were inexperienced.”

“Ooooh. Next thing, you’re going to tell me you’re a Hero?”

The man was starting to grate on Johanna’s nerves. Of course, he might have a point. After all, she didn’t look anything special, and here she was coming, proposing to court death. But they were in Independence State, after all. So, she brought up her palm over the table and brought up the fire.

“No. A Fire Shaper.”