I was actually somewhat surprised when Marcel…didn’t seem to care all that much about Olag and the Raven’s Beak joining the expedition. The last time I had decided to accept a bunch of Dwarves into our protection, he’d all but thrown a fit about it. But this time?

  “They’re useful,” The Gnoll Captain told me bluntly, some time later, after I’d agreed to Olag’s proposal. “These Dwarves have already demonstrated their prowess, and nominally owe allegiance to the very city we make for.”

  Of course, that’s what he said, but I suspect part of his ambivalence was because the woodcutters we had saved were actually staying behind. Before we had left Valle Spinetta, I’d had a very short meeting with a very fraught Dwarven Mayor about the possibility. Headman Vallejo had approached me in the aftermath of our meeting with Olag and had told me that his people were willing to settle down here in the surprisingly well-protected mining town. I’d been willing to speak to the Mayor on his behalf about the possibility, expecting at least a modicum of pushback from the official, but no. He had been all but tripping over himself to accommodate anything I asked for.

  I got the impression that he was very ready to see the back of the Raven’s Beak, despite having initially contracted them in the first place. Probably had something to do with how Olag had commandeered his villa as a headquarters, and he’d been living out of a rundown warehouse for months.

  I had considered trying to purchase some more supplies from the town, but I’d been reluctant to do so. Nobody knew just how long the Skyfall was going to continue for, and food storage would only go so far. Even if the town had a surplus right now, there was no telling if it would remain that way for long. For as much as the Mayor was glad to see the Raven’s Beak leave, I suspect he might just come to regret it, if only for their ability to easily ford through large, mutated monster incursions and hunt the animals of the forest. I gifted them a portion of our APD’s as usual for their guards, of course, but that wasn’t the same as having a dedicated mercenary company to protect you.

  Speaking of APD's, though…

  “Fascinating…” Olag breathed, turning the small blue crystal star over and over in his broad fingers. “To think that Herztal managed to develop such a thing…”

  At the other end of the table here in the meeting room of the Ashen Bride, Gustave cleared his throat. “Actually, Marshal Hart was the one who spearheaded the research project for the APD’s. They’re a product of the Order of the Polaris Reach.”

  I couldn’t help but wince, both from the proud tone that the Army Captain spoke in, and the assessing look I was now getting from Olag. “It was really more of a group effort…”

  Thankfully, Nyx saved me from my weak protests by clearing her throat. “We have enough of the APDs to issue one to all of your men, Captain Olag,” She said briskly, causing said Dwarven Captain to finally stop ogling me. “It will…severely deplete our remaining stock, however. My understanding is that you have some five hundred soldiers under your command.”

  Olag regained his composure and nodded firmly. “Indeed. The Raven’s Beak numbers approximately five hundred and eleven strong, at our latest count. This is taking into account our recent…casualties, of course. I thank you for your most generous gift, Captains.”

  As Olag acquainted himself with both the Captains and the officers that were present at this meeting, I couldn’t help but consider that number.

  Five hundred and eleven. With little more than a handshake and a verbal agreement, the forces of the expedition had grown by a full third. That was quite a large increase in our force projection capabilities, especially considering the Raven’s Beak was a professional mercenary company. Something not quite a Martial Order, but of a similar strength as to be an equal.

  So why was I so wary of them?

  Truthfully, Olag hadn’t ever really done anything of noteworthy harm to me or mine, beyond the recent…unfortunate battle. The scene last year in Elysael's court had been nothing more than political maneuvering; something I rarely took personally. He’d been right that enemies could change to allies in an instant, of course. The realities of the world made that true, especially in the midst of a global, near-apocalyptic event.

  The Raven’s Beak had supplied its own method in which to transport its troops, as Olag had promised. These came in the form of massive oxen-driven ironclads, big enough to fit dozens and dozens of hulking Dwarven warriors within them. I’d gotten a glimpse inside one of them, and I had actually winced at the sight of the all-metal interiors. I couldn’t imagine a more uncomfortable way to travel, especially on the already bumpy roads we were promised to travel on. With the addition of so many more vehicles to the expedition, we were actually reaching the limit of just how far the traveling ward stone installed on the Ashen Bride could stretch. If we dared to add any more people to our procession, I’m not sure they would actually fit.

  It was a good thing they had brought them, though. If we had tried to fold the Raven’s Beak into the normal forces of the expedition, there would have been fights. There were undercurrents of resentment among the troops that we had so easily reached a peaceful agreement with the very people who had ambushed us only hours before. The leadership of the expedition had moved fast on this deal, so we could both hurry up and meet Alveron, as well as continue on our course to Rhoscara. It was possible that with expedience, we might just have jumped headfirst into a deal that could come back to haunt us.

  But this was better than the alternative. We could have fought Olag, or sieged Valle Spinetta, or any number of things. We didn’t need more enemies, though. Especially not ones that could apparently stalk through the forest, protected from the corruption of the Skyfall by dubious enchantment from a comically evil-looking crystal.

  Better to have them with us, fighting on our side. At least, for now.

  However, the first order I’d given Olag after he had consented to being commanded by me was to lock that crystal up. I wasn’t willing to outright throw it away, if only because I felt there were things we could learn from it with study. But there was no possible way I was going to allow anyone to accept the ‘blessing’ of protection that it offered. Not even Olag deserved whatever consequences that thing could possibly bestow.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Since we didn’t actually have a vault or even an appropriately shielded safe, I just decided to seal the damn thing into a large steel cube using Aetherial Melding and stuff it into the deepest, darkest corner of the Ashen Bride’s hold I could find. Somewhere among the linens, I think.

  Hopefully, the malicious piece of crystal wouldn’t manage to corrupt a bunch of bedsheets. At least, not until I figured out what to do with it…and all of the Dwarves who had been exposed to it.

  Damnit.

  ………………………………

  We were lucky that Olag and his now mostly deceased scouts had found a number of wide, hidden paths through the forest for the expedition to traverse. It was our belief that it was these paths that Alveron and his people had to be using to stay beneath the veritable radar, as it was. Without them, it would have been downright impossible for the regular cart in our caravan to brave these woods, much less the gigantic, lumbering beast that was the Ashen Bride. It only took us a few days of careful maneuvering down them, directed by Olag, before we started to see possible signs of their presence.

  Or rather, someone else did.

  I was…slowly growing more accustomed to the presence of the tattooed Dwarven mercenary. Mainly, it was his resemblance to Azarus that was still throwing me off. The two Dwarves couldn’t be more different, but I could still see shadows of my best friend in the shape of his jaw and the curve of his nose.

  It bothered me, I’d admit it. I tried not to think about Azarus and what might have happened to him. I just had to believe that Tarus wouldn’t have abandoned his champion in the face of what was essentially an attack from an old, hated foe.

  I was good at compartmentalizing it, though, especially when I had such a complex, layered structure to my Mind.

  Halfway through the second day of searching, the excitable Elf named Kierla barged into the command room where I was poring over some maps with the help of Maria, Sylvia, and Olag himself. I had felt her coming through my blood sense, accompanied by another familiar heartbeat. But I hadn’t expected the girl to outright barge through the door of the command room like she owned it. I think it was only through the tight control I kept of my physical self that I didn’t jump like a startled cat. Neither Maria nor Sylvia did more than tense up, either, but…Olag’s reaction was a bit amusing.

  The Dwarf’s head shot up from where he had been hunched over the map. Amusingly enough, I had learned that Olag was a bit far-sighted and needed corrective spectacles for reading. He was perfectly capable in a fight, of course. But it seemed that fine details like letters or markings on a map were a tad blurry.

  (Interestingly enough, I had learned that a heightened Perception score couldn’t actually fix sight issues like I would have expected it to. The Virtue only enhanced what was already there. It couldn’t correct an already existing issue. And considering that Olag was a Magi like myself, his sight problems couldn’t be fixed by a Cultivator Ascension ritual. There were complicated Healing rituals that could solve the problem, but not even Honoka, with all her Healing skill, was keen on attempting it.)

  The thin wire frames drooped down his nose as he outright goggled in shock at the Elf who had blown through the doors. Personally, I don’t think he was surprised that it had happened, so much so that someone dared to do so. We weren’t quite as strict as he was with his men, here in the Herztalian expedition.

  When Olag switched his gaze over to me with an offended look in his eye, as Kierla scurried over to me, I just mouthed a single word to him and shrugged apologetically.

  Elves.

  The Dwarven Captain snorted in a familiar manner, and as Kierla began to chatter at me excitedly in a language the System didn’t want me to understand, he muttered something about barbarians under his breath.

  Trailing behind Kierla through the blown-open door was her minder, the fully recovered form of my squire. “I’m so sorry, Sir Nate, Captain Olag,” Walter said apologetically, trying to fit the door back into the frame. Everyone but the still chattering Kierla winced when the wood failed, and it crashed back down onto the floorboards. “She…was really insistent.”

  Olag seemed to reach the end of his patience. “Silence, witch!” He barked at Kierla, who finally stopped her unceasing stream of unfamiliar words. She blinked her large, curious emerald eyes at Olag, who openly scowled at the girl. “Speak in a civilized tongue, or not at all!”

  “Ah…this one is…sorry?” Kierla finally said, in words I could understand, a sheepish note to her voice. She took a step back and bowed sharply at the waist, one hand over her stomach, the other behind her back.

  I blinked at the odd, out-of-place gesture. That was something I would have expected from a Kawamaran, or perhaps a Herztalian courtier back in Blutstein. Not an Elf. But perhaps enough of the old Elven traditions had survived thanks to the efforts of Alveron that they weren’t totally lost, as a people.

  Mildly encouraging.

  “Yes, many sorry,” Kierla said apologetically, straightening back up. “Only, I found…thing you want see. No,” She immediately shook her head. “Thing you want know about. Markings from Elder. They are near.”

  The amusement drained straight out of me, being replaced by anticipation. I could tell I wasn’t the only one, either. The girls were visibly relieved, while Olag just looked hungry. Even if he was no longer hunting Alveron and his people, I imagine it would be nice to finally catch up with them, at the very least.

  Finally.

  “Only, you need stop now,” She continued firmly, halting the rising sense of anticipation in the room. “They likely already watching. We go too close to group, they run and need find again. Not know you.”

  I cursed and immediately ran for the brass tube that lay on one wall of the command room, connected directly to the wheelroom farther up in the ship. Uncapping it, I bent down and shouted into it. “This is Captain Hart! Signal an immediate halt to the caravan!”

  “Roger, Captain!” I heard a voice say from the tube. Moments later, I heard shouting erupt all up and down the Ashen Bride as the ship slowly started to come to a stop, accompanied by the rest of the procession. Shaking my head, I turned back to Kierla with a frown on my face. “What next? What do we need to do in order to meet up with Alveron?”

  To my surprise, the Elf girl pointed a thumb at her chest and smiled widely at me. “You forward me!” When I just blinked at her, she growled under her breath and corrected herself. “Send me, send! I am known. I explain to Elder you here, they let you in. Is no problem.”

  “Well…” I said slowly, exchanging a baffled glance with Maria. “That sounds fine to me-”

  I didn’t even get the chance to continue. Kierla immediately pivoted on one heel and sprinted out of the room, nearly bowling over Walter as she did so. My squire cursed and steadied himself, looking like he was about to go chasing after her.

  “Stop, Walter,” I shook my head as my squire froze in place. “It’s fine, she can take care of herself. We’ll…just need to wait for her to return.”

  You know, it had just occurred to me. This would be the perfect time for the excitable young elf to betray us, if it turned out she had been leading us on all this time.

  If I got ambushed again, for the second time in a matter of days, I was going to break something.

  I suppose all we could do was wait and see when, and if, she returned.