“The recruits are all assembled, sir, with all equipment and each carrying three days’ worth of supplies.” Maxen reports, in that formal ‘at ease’ position he tends to take whenever he’s speaking to me. I glance over at the ‘recruits’ standing in a group just a few paces behind their commander.

  Several are visibly nervous, adjusting straps compulsively or with hints of trembling in their fingers. For many, it’s probably the first time they’ll leave the city in their lives. I don’t know what kind of tales are told to children here, but given the higher chances of beast attacks in this countryside compared to that of England, I suspect that the tales might be more cautionary than magical.

  The light of the torches they’re holding also highlights the weight of the backpacks they’re carrying. Even those who are standing patiently and calmly look a little laden.

  “They don’t have to carry all that,” I point out. “We’re taking wagons with us for a reason.” If we weren’t taking so many people, we’d probably have used the portal network, but as it is, the expense would be far too great. Besides, from what Nicholas said, he’s taking advantage of the opportunity to bring supplies for Zlona with us too.

  “It’s good training, sir,” Maxen disagrees, though respectfully as always. “The sooner they can reach their maximum physical limits, the more likely they’ll survive.”

  That’s a fair point. I consider Noir – maybe he should carry something to help his Strength increase…. But Maxen’s words made another thought come to mind too.

  “Do you think they’ll all survive?” I ask him quietly, not sure I want to hear the answer. Do I really want to know ahead of time that I’m leading some people into almost-certain death? After all, though most of those Maxen has been working with are the more combat-focussed slaves, other recruits have trickled in from the city who have only ever heard of beast waves.

  Maxen considers the question carefully.

  “If we have sufficient cover or support from the local garrison, I believe it should be possible to ensure they all survive, hopefully a little wiser than they were before.” He hesitates for a moment. “Some healing potions would help ensure that, if you’re willing to permit the expense, sir,” he suggests tentatively.

  “Of course,” I tell him impatiently. “That shouldn’t be in question.” River has already been building up our supplies of those in preparation for the expedition. She won’t mind if we use some a little earlier. “Will they follow your orders in battle?” I ask him a little pointedly.

  I’m not worried about the slaves – they’ve proven themselves willing to follow direction after fourteen days of training with Maxen. It’s the non-collared recruits I’m more concerned about.

  Though not all of the free people are strictly citizens – I made it clear to Sarran that I was more than willing to accept people from the slums and I think he put out word to that effect – several of them had an issue with following orders from a slave.

  Maxen suggested that I appoint a different leader, but I decided not to do so in the end. The fact is that Maxen, were he free, would be an excellent choice due to his past history in training and developing other fighters in the guard. With me, he’s proven himself to be both patient and hard-nosed enough to bring the best out of those under his command. And the communication with the rest of us that the Bond offers makes him even more effective as a commander.

  Instead, I made it clear that anyone who wasn’t willing to listen to an experienced and competent commander just because of a metal band around his throat was welcome to leave. A couple of the Moriaxar citizens took my invitation, but all of those from the slums stayed.

  At least Thalon has been keeping his head down since Maxen made it very clear to him that there would be no bullying in the ranks. Maxen has control of all of those I’ve Bonded in his squad – Thalon was therefore forced to answer his questions truthfully, and was also unable to refuse the punishment laps and physical conditioning. It didn’t take too many repetitions for him to stop repeating the same actions.

  “They will, sir,” Maxen answers me confidently. “There have been few problems since you made the state of affairs clear to the recruits. Additionally, in the heat and chaos of battle, they will cling to what is familiar.”

  I nod, accepting his assessment.

  “Good. I take it they’re ready to leave, then?”

  “Yes, sir,” he confirms firmly.

  “I can’t imagine it will be much longer.” I cast a look over to where the horizon is starting to lighten. “The dawn is coming.” I wonder if the words sound as portentous to Maxen as they feel to me in that moment. We may not see battle for several days yet, but when we step out of these gates, we’ll be marching off to war. “Do some final checks and then have them arrange themselves around the caravan,” I instruct feeling heaviness settle on my shoulders.

  “Yes, sir,” Maxen replies with a salute of a fist to his shoulder. Then, turning away, he strides off to his group of trainees.

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  Markus, there’s someone here to see you. Loran’s voice slips into my mind, the tone mysteriously vague. Touching the Bond between us, I feel the tiniest hint of mischief and something in me rejoices in that – Loran has come a long way from the downtrodden person I met kneeling in my room that first night here. Knowing that his brother and sister – who apparently sent him a message about it – are coming with us on the expedition to the Lost Continent has put him in good spirits.

  Where?

  At the gates. Shall I bring her over?

  Sure, I agree while wondering exactly who might be here. It’s just as well that I wait with the gathering caravan – several more people come up to me to ask various questions, their expressions becoming clearer as the sun peeps above the horizon.

  “My lord,” I hear Loran’s voice come from behind me. I turn and my eyebrows shoot up at the person accompanying him.

  “Master Mirena,” I greet with some surprise. I’ve always visited her in her workshop – she’s never come here. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, my lord,” she reassures me. “I wished to know if the offer to join you on this trip is still open?”

  “It is – are you reconsidering your answer?” Nicholas sent Sarran down to her office last night but apparently she hadn’t seemed keen on leaving her workshop.

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” she admits. “And I decided that it might be good for me to get out of my workshop for a bit. I’ve brought some special equipment that will allow me to complete low-tier tattoos even while we travel.”

  After a couple of weeks of watching her work, I’ve got more of an idea of what she means by that. The use of ‘tier’ doesn’t seem to be related to how beasts are classed – it’s just a way of indicating the difficulty in creating the tattoos. For example, the spatial tattoo now decorating my skin was definitely classed as high-tier and needed very precise workshop conditions as well as an enchanter with a good deal of skill. Low-tier tattoos are far less finickety.

  Fortunately, most of the ones I’ve commissioned for my companions are low-tier since they each have a single effect. Only the unlocking ones nudge a little into the medium-tier, but most of my companions already have those.

  “That would work nicely,” I agree. “So, what changed your mind?”

  The enchanter’s eyes glint a little.

  “I recalled that the forest around Zlona contains a good number of important reagents that I need.”

  “Ah, and you saw our caravan as an easy way of getting there and back.”

  “Indeed,” the craftswoman agrees shamelessly.

  “I should charge you travel fees,” I joke. With the number of hours I’ve spent in her workshop either having tattoos done myself or watching them being done on my companions, she knows me well enough not to take me seriously.

  “And here was I about to offer to allow your companions to join me in collecting and processing the reagents,” she replies with a sniff.

  “That would work,” I’m quick to agree. Alyna and Hunter will definitely be interested. “You might have to wait until after the beast wave has subsided before you search for them, though,” I warn her.

  She flicks her fingers in dismissal.

  “I assure you that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Then she taps her finger against her cheek consideringly. “Perhaps I will lend my services to the garrison at Zlona – the beasts may have some useful ingredients.”

  “As you wish,” I agree, trusting in her own estimation of her abilities.

  A few instructions see the Master Enchanter led towards a wagon where she can set up her tattoo space – with the number of beasts and people we’ll be taking with us, we have four wagons prepared.

  They all contain special storage chests – though each chest can only hold about four or five times more than they look like they should, they have preservation charms that will keep the contents within in good condition. Unlike the stasis of my Inventory, it doesn’t take them out of time, which therefore has the benefit of not ripping away all Energy within whatever is put inside. Those will primarily be for any carcasses of beasts we kill. There are more normal storage items that will carry objects that either don’t use Energy or where it’s stable enough not to be easily ripped away.

  “Is everything ready?” ask Nicholas, walking up to me. He’s followed by Tempest. The horse has light reins attached – no need for any bit when all that the reins need to do is offer wordless direction when the rider is too busy with something else to send a mental message – but they’re looped over his neck so as not to get in the way.

  “I think so,” I reply, running through a mental list of everything I needed to do.

  “Then let us be off,” he announces, swinging himself onto Tempest’s back. “I will let Mathis know.”

  Mathis is in charge of the guards on this trip – I think that his familiarity with me has given him something of a promotion from some things he’s let slip. While Nicholas does that, I head for the wagon that’s been set aside for me and my companions. Only the Pathwalkers are inside – my non-human Bonded have chosen to walk for now and my human Bonded have been required by Maxen to do so – it’s not only the fighters who need to work on their endurance.

  Shortly after, the wagons begin trundling through the streets of Azaarde, giving me a different view of the city from the one that I saw on entry – we’re off to the north-west instead of the north-east this time. It’s early, but there are already a good number of people out on the streets – few of those dressed in opulent colours, but many of those in more drab attire. The slums, in contrast, are far quieter than they were the first time we came through.

  Once we’re out of the city, we speed up, the wagons reaching a surprising pace when compared to wagons from Earth. Not that it’s exactly fast – when we travelled to Whalehost the first time, we probably went at least double the speed. But rather than travelling at a walking speed, this is more of a jog. The recruits are going to be exhausted by the end of the day, I remark to myself as I turn to see them keeping pace. Several guards are on horse-back, ranging around the caravan to check for dangers or people following us.

  I decide to meditate a bit with an Energy Heart – this is a perfect opportunity to aim for level thirty. And the sooner I can get those new Class Skills, the better for us all.

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