Frank could have done without the significant looks the priest was giving him, but they were a small price to pay for the break.
He’d fucked up. Pushed her too far running away from his own problems. He’d fought before. In training, against monsters, in parties and companies. Commanded men and killed them. These had probably been her first two patrols where she was alone with her party. The best warrior in it, no less, for all he was the leader. Deli could certainly hand him his ass.
His own personal issues got in the way. Running from them. It was high time he faced them. But there’d be time for that after the celebration.
“Frank the Mageling. When are you getting a proper Name, huh?” Mauricius asked him, offering him mead. Frank only took a few fingers in his cup, it wouldn’t do to actually get drunk. He hadn’t since he got his magic. There was always armed, and there was “burn the houses down” levels of damage. Magefire didn’t care about snow.
“I don’t know Rio. I guess when the Gods send me a proper trial.” Apparently, killing a Lesser Demon didn’t count. Or damn near half the Reclaimers would be Demon Slayers. Frank got it. There were far worse things out there.
Even as most people were celebrating, guards stood on walls, and hunters watched the skies. After all, the Angel had said nothing of monsters. Still, so far, none had come out of the woods. But they would, he was sure of it. Maybe not today, but they’d come. The walls wouldn’t discourage all of them.
He threw back the sweet drink, enjoying it. There was nothing quite like mead. Frank didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but he made an exception for honey. Honey was good. Natural honey was a luxury, at least to him.
“I’ll drink to that.” Mauricius shouted, spraying him, as he did. Frank wiped his face, leaning away.
“How that wife of yours tolerates you, I do not know.”
“I don’t use my tongue to only speak to her, I’ll tell you that!” The watchman guffawed. While he looked happy and joking, Frank had chatted him up enough to notice when he didn’t sound like himself.
It took only a moment of consideration to connect the dots. “Miss her?”
Mauricius glanced around them. While they were surrounded by people, no one was paying much attention. Deli was chatting up one of the other warriors.
“Me Barbra? Sure I do, but them’s the risks. The kids are too little to travel, can’t rightly bring them along, can we? Last caravan out, its good money. I’ll be bitching about it all winter, but he’s on the hook now.” He said grinning with just a bit of greed.
Frank followed Mauricius’s gaze and found the caravan master in the crowd outside the ring of warriors.
“Full winter guard. Won’t be rich, but I’ll be able to equip my firstborn properly when I get back. I even got a shaft from the Tree, straight from the source!” He drank again, and poured himself another.
Frank hummed a short encouragement, wanting to hear more, sipping his mead.
“But enough about me, Franky boy! Let’s talk about you!” Mauricius threw a hand over his back, turning him towards Deli. “Tell me, what’s she like in bed?”
His voice carried. Frank could see the back of her neck flush. He elbowed Rio in the side.
“At least try and be polite.”
Affronted, Rio said loudly: “I’m being more than polite, I’m flattering the woman. I would not be interested in her performance if she was not a beauty!”
A moment later, she turned and nailed Rio in the face with a snowball. He laughed it off. In an undertone he said to Frank: “She’s been batting her lashes at the boy for a while now. Except that one is thick as a freshly felled trunk. Help your lady out, Frank.”
Ah. He’d missed it. She was being flirty, now that he was looking for it.
Armed with a better understanding of the situation, Frank engaged in a tradition familiar to every friend, cousin, and brother in the world: embarrassing them.
“Oh, she’s a hellion all right. Lean and limber, as enthusiastic as any. Why just yesterday she went at it more than a dozen times.”
Deli turned back to glare at him. “That was training.”
“And you’ve trained well.” He nodded sagely. “Now go for the real thing. You can’t spend all your days playing with a wooden handle.”
Her glare got worse, even as her cheeks became rosy. “Oh, fuck you.”
Frank had a rebuttal ready, but she turned back to the guy with her, put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a solid kiss. He froze to begin with, but was more than happy to get into it. Once he caught up.
Frank felt a pang of loss, but nothing like it would have been if not for Quel’s touch.
“Frank, Frank, what is with that look?” Deadbeat asked from behind him, taking a seat on his other side.
“You look like you’re losing a woman, instead of courting one.”
Frank snorted. “Courting? Is that what you call it? I didn’t know you were a lady, Dame Deadbeat.”
She choked, lifting a hand to stall for time, while she struggled not to spill her drink. Managing to force it down, Deadbeat said:
“One: Dame Deadbeat just sound wrong. Two: don’t call me Empire titles, it might piss me off. Three: now Karl Deadbeat, that’s a proper name I could get used to.”
She was pelted with snow from behind, to boos from her party sitting in the next seats over behind them.
“Damn traitors!” She complained with a smile, lobbing snow back. More snowballs flew, some hitting Frank and Mauricius. They retaliated.
In a circle full of warriors? While a few couples retreated from the scrum, soon snowballs were flying everywhere. Followed by curses and good natured fists.
How can a fist be good-natured? By pulling punches.
It was one of the stranger moments in his life. Everyone had Health. So as long as he didn’t hit anyone hard, no one was hurt. With the fresh, soft snow piled deep, people threw each other, wrestled, it was mayhem.
***
Circles sprang up, for different kinds of brawling.
Frank mostly stuck to the edges. He kept one eye on Deli. While she’d moved on from kissing to light petting, she looked disgruntled. The guy was a bit too interested in his own fun, than paying attention to hers. At least to his eye.
Not that he was looking, for more than to make sure she was safe, as party leader and all.
Deadbeat had disappeared, along with her party. Likely on a duty shift, since her space was occupied by another party of scouts. Frank was at something of a loss. He’d spoken to many of these people over the days here. But it was all… shallow, small talk.
There was a firekeeper that mended their clothes. A merchant who sold him a second notebook. A smith who looked over Deli’s axestaff, after pounding that Ice Shade. Plenty of acquaintances. Guard aquintances.
But what was he actually doing? Apart from that first time, he hadn’t managed to regain, top off his Health once. And he was leery of using Frostfire until he did. It had already been what, two, three weeks from Last Light? He’d only made 6%. And lost one back. It would take forever like this.
But even that wasn’t the real problem. They were getting there, getting better, looking for a third member. Frank was pretty sure as soon as his Command kicked back in, he’d be able to fill the party. Or at least find another member to round them out.
No, the problem was both simpler and bigger than that: What then?
Frank wanted to develop his magic. He wanted to learn about Demons and Angels. He wanted to start a family. And he wanted to do right by Deli.
But none of that was a plan. How? Where? What job did he take, do?
There was a celebration going on. Does he start looking now? Wait until he finds a place to settle down first? And where to do that? This far north, it would be like this every year. Did he want to raise kids among the dead, and with the Winter Winds?
But if he went south, the dead would weaken. And as they did, the influence of the Empire would grow. That was worse.
He didn’t know. Frank knew what he wanted.
But how to get it?
Apart from removing the Curse, studying Magic to be stronger, he had no clue. And that wasn’t good enough anymore. It was fine for him to muddle through life himself. But if he was going to lead and be responsible for a party, then he had to do better than that.
Or he was inviting tragedy on all of them.
***
Frank wasn’t quite sure if he found the priest, or if the priest found him, but they ran into each other near the outer wall. Frank had been side-tracked by the runes on them. They were in Eversnow, but not like the magic he used. The wording, the accent, it was like something from church. Both formal and reverent, like gospel, glimmering faintly in the sun. It felt wrong to try and copy them. He’d learned to trust his instincts.
His were more passion and anger, like a heated argument between lovers.
“Good morn, good Warrior. I do not believe we’ve met.” The priest greeted him politely. He was tall wiry man, with some grey in his shoulder length oily brown hair, with a messy, curly beard. His eyes were black, with foreboding thick eyebrows, on a face that lacked either frown or smile lines.
“We have.” He answered. “You were at the greeting, when we arrived after the caravan.”
The priest blinked, peering at him closely. “I do think you are right, my good man. My pardon, I hardly recognised you outside of the pilgrim’s robes.”
“It’s not a problem.” Frank replied politely. This was, perhaps, the most polite conversation he’d had in a month. It was a bit concerning for the priest to forget him so soon, but some people were bad with faces.
“Frank wasn’t it?” the priest mused.
Frank nodded.
The middle-aged man smiled. “It was a pleasant surprise, you showing up. Quite a relief for some.” He cast around, looking for something, but didn’t seem to find it.
It was an odd shift. The priest suddenly leaning in, his voice getting intense. “I do not think I had the chance to offer last time. But I’m aware of your problem. I believe that if you beseeched him, Ir-karlak would offer you a chance to mend the breach.”
“He already has.” Frank replied.
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The priest nodded, pleased. “Good, good. I hope you’ve been working on passing your trial?”
“About that?”
Frank wasn’t going to explain about Frostfire, that was his secret, but he could…
“Could I trouble you for a Blessing of Health?”
The priest hummed, softly. “I’d love to help. I’m capable of it, too. But my time and my mana are spoken for, I’m afraid. Captain Kierulf has reserved my full recovery, for his veterans and champion. And as bounty rewards.”
The last item caught Frank’s interest. “Bounties, you said?”
***
Frank had tried to sneak away. With the Angel patrolling the grounds, now was the best time to go after a bounty, right? If only it was that easy.
Health = 29/42
Mana = 8
Health and mana weren’t the problem. Neither should the Wailing woman be one. If he could find one. No, after a short consultation with the priest, Frank had a list of current bounties, and a little bit about each one of them.
“A Wailing Woman is a ghost of despair. She is anchored here by it. It allows her to hurt the living and tear flesh, but it does leave her vulnerable. As a ghost at least half in our world, spirits, magic, and some Skills can harm her. While breaking her anchor will free her, so will killing her cursed form.”
Thing was, once they got low, they escaped. But Frank had a way to deliver a lot of pain, quickly. That’s what mana and magic excelled at. Not endurance, and long grinds, but sudden, overwhelming power applied at just the right time.
If he could weaken her death aura with his staff, he should be able to finish one with fire.
That was the plan. It went wrong from the start.
For one, while he’d been watching Deli, she’d been keeping an eye on him too. So when he tried to sneak away, she followed. Worse still, she wouldn’t stop talking about how disappointing Erik had been.
Nor was she alone.
Several parties had the same idea. Now that they’d eaten and celebrated, it was time to move in and clean up, while the dead were harried, running and weak. If anyone ran into trouble, they just needed to hold out until the Angel got there. They could rest properly tomorrow, when the dead were dealt with.
Deli was still a bit weak. Not her Body, which was starting to respond to his orders quickly, but her head. It worried him, but she wouldn’t hear of it, to delay everything until she was better.
If anything, he had a feeling she’d blame herself forever if they missed out on the opportunity because of her weakness.
“And you want to see the Angel.” He wrapped up her argument.
“Don’t you?” She asked him.
It was a fair point.
***
They did not find the Wailing Woman, where last she was. They did find another party digging around. They’d already cleared much of the room, and found plenty of dead Bones. The Angel’s axe had put them down, but left the actual bones behind. Frank and Deli got pulled into lugging them outside the walls, where a large bonfire had sprung up. They weren’t the only ones.
As the firekeepers kept the music going, Warriors were going house to house, tunnel by tunnel, looking for dead Bones, and bringing them back up to the bonfire to burn.
There were a lot of them. The firekeeper tending it kept a count. Deli was wiped out after their third trip, and the number had crossed a hundred and twenty by then.
The Reclaimer Captain, Kierulf the Deathless, had set up a station and a map, and was coordinating the sweeps. Most of the surface tunnels were clear.
As Deli rested, Frank was called over to a group in deliberations.
“You Pilgrim Leader of those lot?” He asked him bluntly.
“I was, till we had a disagreement.”
Deathless waved it away. “But you were?”
“For part of the trip.” Frank confirmed.
“What do you know of Magda?”
“Joined late. We picked her and Crisk up at Last Light. What’s going on?”
“They’re missing, among others.” He rumbled. The man was built like a brick wall. “Might be, some snuck off for some for some good old fucking in the snow, it’s a treat. But I didn’t get here by being careless.”
He considered Frank for a moment, before sharing:
“We’ve an open seal, down there. Opened with tools from outside. The very same you reported in. Who’d you tell about it?”
It wasn’t suspicion exactly, but the man did give a look to his furs. Frank had kept his distance from Magda. She was a green robe. Empire.
“Fuck. Not again.”
“At least half the rumour mill.” Frank sighed.
“You agree, then? That she might be here on some plot?” He asked, displeased.
“She’s Empire, there’s always a plot with them.” Frank confirmed.
“So are you.” Deathless pointed out.
“I don’t count.” Frank denied.
“So they all say.”
There really was nothing he could, or at least would, say to that.
“What I don’t get is why? This place has been around for decades, right?”
The Captain gave him a weighing look. His head doing a little sideways dance.
“They never burned the books. Manuscripts and papers of the Warlock. Couldn’t find them. Story goes, the Demons hid them deep in the tunnels. It’s not like the dead care for them.”
Frank took notice. Unfortunately, his interest was caught.
“Interested are you?” The voice was casual. The question was anything but.
Still, Frank wasn’t going to lie here. That would be stupid.
“Yes. A lot actually. Demons, Angels,” he focused, and the hypothetical cycles all but painted themselves in front of his eyes, even with Ecology inactive:
“Consider it, the nature of souls and rebirth. Heavens and Hells: how a life is weighed and is a Demon just one or multiple souls? How many souls filter up to the Heavens, and how many are sent back down? How does one ascend, up from a Hell, or the land? Or fall from grace, or into hell? Is it by Cult? By personal faith? By some metaphysical law? Some kind of balance must be maintained with how far back the records go, or sooner or later, one of the pools would run dry, empty. Either that, or there were other connected reservoirs, other worlds, or kindred that filter souls in as the entire biome loses them. If we can but examine the mechanisms of transition and balance, reproduce them in isolation and prove their nature in an independent study, we would gain insight into the nature of the world itself.”
At the start, the Captain’s eyes had sharpened. Now he looked taken aback, and just a bit resigned. He turned to one of the men beside him, lifting a hand for silence. “Academic?”
The advisor firmly nodded. “With that ready an outpouring, in that cadence? Logic, and at least a Skill two.”
Frank had no idea how the advisor had done that. Was that measurable?
The Captain turned back to him and asked him bluntly: “Did you hire her to steal the papers for your theories?”
“No!” Frank denied. “I was going to study what Demons and Angels I could find myself. Before I met some, at least. Primary observations are always superior to secondary sources.” He denied firmly. “Though I wouldn’t refuse a look if you have some.” Frank mused.
The Captain simply shook his head at him. “Gods preserve me from Mages and their “studies”. I suppose it has to start somewhere, in Magelings. You!” He pointed firmly at Frank’s midsection. “As long as you’re in my town, don’t you go calling up Demons without permission. Got it?”
“Wasn’t planning to.” Frank replied, clearly innocent. He’d planned to study them first, of course. “What kind of fool calls up something they don’t understand?”
The man scrutinized him again for a moment, but Frank was fully sincere. That came across just fine apparently, as he grinned: “Well, on your way then, Mageling. And do share with us the results of your studies. If you find some other weakness to them, me and mine would love to hear of it.”
“Right.” Frank nodded, even if he felt like they were laughing at him. “You are aware of the whole taint reinforcing existing Curses, right?”
That had been an unpleasant surprise. He’d woken up yesterday to find his Curse back up to 95%. It was their tenth day here. If everyone else was slowly building up some kind of Curse, it would explain the whole taint thing.
“We are.” Deathless told him curtly.
Frank took it as his cue to leave.
***
Not long after, a call went out for volunteers. Noon was just past, and there was still no sign of Magda. Crisk had shown up, drunk in Quel pantry, and deeply asleep. But another was missing.
Katri the Windblown was nowhere to be found. And there were signs of a fight in the house she shared with three other servants. Katri’s own, ever threatening iron pot, was dented and abandoned on the floor. While she wasn’t a firekeeper as such, servants in the Caravan still weren’t full warriors.
Her kidnapping was an insult to the honour of the Reclaimers. They were going in to take her back. As the only Mageling willing to face battle in the town, Frank’s party was offered a spot. The priest and the Angel would guard above, as the Angel would not descend beyond the surface tunnels. The Reclaimer’s earth Mageling would handle communication between the groups, and the surface.
He could hear through stone, and speak through the mountains. If they dug up something truly nasty, everyone would have warning, and the Landkarls would hear of it.
Frank wasn’t entirely sold on the idea. Deli wanted to go, but she didn’t have his experience. Not with the dead, but with monsters. The Empire was safe. But it stayed safe for people because of the guilds, who constantly hunted monsters that spawned or came up from below. And some of them could get quite nasty. He’d know. They were used by both nobility and Academy, to hone their students.
“There’s nothing like a fight for your life to really make you progress, child.”
Frank still felt some of his instructors had to have been sadists. They took way too much enjoyment in using their blessed Body and the Health and recovery that came with them, to throw them against ridiculous foes. Foes “worthy of a hero and their party.”
It was the bounty that won him over. He’d already lost a lot of days, just surviving the winter. If he wanted to progress, he’d have to take risks. That had always been the case in this world.
No matter how much part of him didn’t like it. Or what the other parts said. Frank didn’t care what his instructors claimed, bloodlust was not healthy. How incredibly awesome it was to come out of a fight looking a like a metal album cover, and feeling like you’d just won a marathon, was not a sound basis for decision making. Especially when learned in fights where loss would have meant death, if they didn’t know the teachers would step in if their Health broke.
He had no such protection now and it still left many with scars, until they got good at combat.
Frank was nowhere near as good as he had been, and was acutely aware of it.
But he wasn’t going as the main thrust, or even back up. He was there as mage support. And that much? He felt they could handle that much. Probably.
Deli smiled, having watched him muse on it for several minutes, while everyone was organising.
“We’re going?”
Frank met her eyes, and saw nothing but anticipation. That and the still lingering dregs of darkness.
He shook his head. “I wish you weren’t so happy about it.” He grumbled, feeling like an old man.
“Yes!” Deli all but punched the sky.
Frank couldn’t help it, it made him chuckle. That and…
***
“And you stay right by me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re bodyguard, not a slayer. It’s your job to keep me safe and let me focus, not go out and kill things, understand?”
“Yes Sir.”
“I’ll blast whatever needs blasting, if it needs it. They’ll take care of any dead or demons that show up, your job is to watch, guard me and learn, not throw yourself at them.”
“Yes, sir.”
Deli didn’t enjoy this game. The game where Frank worried about everything and tried to parent her. At least he was doing it while they went out to fight, instead of trying to talk her out of fighting. She still wasn’t fully recovered, but no way in hell would she rob the expedition of an actual Hero, just because she wasn’t feeling her best.
“This, this is it. How stories are made. A missing woman, a kidnapping, an Angel watching above and Demons and Dead below. This will be one for the Bards, and I won’t fail!”
Even if she didn’t have a Skill for her axestaff yet, she was getting good at it, and she had the Strength and Agility for it. She’d gotten used to the basics, after endless, relentless, repetitions.
Deli wished she could check her Lifecord, see how it was going. See her progress herself. All she had was the memory of her last one.
Aspects (Limit)
Physical (12)
Mental (12)
Agility: 4
Body: 1 (6/20)
Reaction: 2
Strength: 3
Instinct: 3
Logic: 2
Presence: 2 (1/30)
Will: 2 (19/30)
Gift of Life
Health = 41
Recovery – 2/day
Gift of Heart
Skills (+Applied,-Inactive)
Agility = 4
+Sewing 3 (4/40)
+Daggers 1 (16/20)
+Dodge 1 (4/20)
+Dancing 1 (17/20)
Instinct = 3
+Empathy 2 (2/30)
+Survival 3
+Singing 2 (7/30)
Body = 1
+Stamina Recovery 1
Logic = 2
+Legends 2 (Eversnow)
+Growing 2 (Eversnow)
Reaction = 2
+Awareness 1 (12/20)
Presence = 2
+Defiance 1 (9/20)
Strength = 3
+Lift 2 (12/30)
+Axe 1 (5/20)
+Club 1
-Sling 1
Will = 2
+Eversnow Traditions 2
+Resistance 2
It was from before the end of her Pilgrimage. Before… before a lot of things, from the end of Logic Falling.
“Look at me, I never used to think in trade tongue. From Descending Frost. Spending so much time with Frank is changing me. I hope it is for the better.”
“Oh, Mother, Father, would you be proud of me, for what I’ve done?”
“Or at least, what I’m about to do?”