No Army is better than its soldiers.

Pre-Fall general.

Johanna tried to get at the one soldier who seemed to be fielding questions, but the crowd was large, and there were soldiers with spears pushing back the various levies, trying to put a semblance of order.

She’d barely had time to reach the front of the improvised queue when the soldier simply started a tired-sounding spiel.

“Yes, you are getting paid a normal soldier stipend regularly. No, any legal dispute will have to be brought from New Benton, and you will have to pick a lawyer there or write to your contact back in Veletta if you think you belong in a protected category and are exempt from the draft. Yes, your family can visit, although you can’t get leave unless you enlist or re-enlist for a full duration beyond the two-year draft. Any other question?”

She hesitated a second, and the soldier immediately added, “If you have none, move on, please.”

“I… we have a contract outstanding for a year and…”

“Any outstanding obligation is suspended for the duration of the draft. That includes loans, delivery contracts, and everything, even if it includes non-drafted parties. Anything else?”

Johanna couldn’t think of anything immediately and the soldier immediately waved her off, looking at the next worried levy.

The other three surrounded her, throwing inquiring looks.

“Okay, the good news is, our loan for the house is on hold. Also good news is, Grievar can’t claim the sword or something. It will be waiting – or whoever he managed to get interested, maybe – for us. The bad news is, this… mess is for two years.”

“Can they do that?”

“Obviously, they can. Unless they’re lying through their teeth, and somehow Valetta couldn’t figure it out.”

She then laughed lightly.

“That soldier couldn’t even say Valetta correctly.”

Peter sighed.

“Tried my luck. But there’s too many of them at the exits. Slipping away is not an option… too many focused gazes and not enough room. I can’t get out and see what I can learn from the city.”

“Tom, you know about that lawyer thing, right?” Johanna asked.

“Dad had to use one for some dispute. Specialist in written law, contracts, that kind of thing. People don’t need them, usually, unless things go messy.”

“The soldier did mention them. Apparently, you can contest that ‘draft’ thing, once you’re in New Benton.”

Peter laughed.

“Fat chance that. If they know you’re special, want to bet a lawyer there will find that we don’t qualify for an exemption? Me, maybe if I’m lucky. You? Not a chance.”

A few more groups of soldiers had brought in some additional bewildered citizens, when the adjutant emerged again from his side room, a large travel bag at his side. Johanna spotted him almost as he came out, and she was ready to go to him and ask more when the crowd’s sudden move caught her.

The soldiers instantly reacted by drawing their spears and lowering them, stopping the frightened citizens from pestering their leader.

“Alright,” the soldier that had handled the inquiries spoke, before increasing his volume.

“Listen up, people. I am Captain Devereaux. We have a long march to the capital, New Benton. You are city dwellers, so I’m not expecting you to be toughened enough, but I won’t tolerate slacking. The sergeants here will make sure of that. Now, exit in groups. And, of course, don’t bother trying to run away. Valetta designated you as levies, remember, and they know anyone that flees means one more levy next time unless they turn you in. And deserting for banditry… is not something you want to do.”

Trying to funnel something like a hundred and fifty people out of the party hall instantly turned into a mess, despite the soldier’s instruction. As the four headed toward the main exit, Sergeant Mord detached himself from the soldier group and stopped them. He hesitated a second when looking at Peter, before letting it slide.

The adjutant reached them.

“I understand that you are scavengers, and used to make runs to the western ruins?”

“That’s correct,” Johanna replied.

“Then it’s probably going to be easier for you than that lot. Feel free to guide them, or help them. Although don’t take over anyone’s load. I want them to start toughening with that march. Boot camp when we arrive will be easier.”

“Boot camp?” she asked, wondering what a boot had to do with a camp.

“Military training. Now, the three of you are special. You’ll get more suitable training, based on your abilities and how tactically useful you’ll be on the field. I look forward to discovering the full details of your respective Talent. You, on the other hand…” he said, looking at Peter.

“Well, there’s provision for married couples. Although you’re going to be a standard levy, you’ll get passes to meet with your wife.”

Peter opened his mouth, but Johanna shook her head, trying to prevent him from disclosing his abilities. If the Warden’s men didn’t suspect him, he could sneak out, find things… help them, one way or another.

“I certainly did not expect to require permission to see her,” he managed to grumble convincingly.

“We’ll see. We will probably make you a bodyguard after initial training,” the adjutant replied, before gesturing toward the exit.

Once outside, Johanna found a pair of soldiers with a pile of bags at their feet. After looking quickly at her salvager’s backpack, they handed her a pair of plain burlap sacks.

“Put those in. That’s your rations for the next days.”

She dropped her bag, stuffing the two 7-pounds bags into it, before picking it back, shifting to hold its weight. Not as heavy as when they went out for a run or came back filled with salvage, but still significant. She spotted some of the other levies with larger burlap bags with straps sewn on and instantly pitied them. Odds were that most would not know how to carry those loads for a day. There was a trick to placing the weight on your back for long durations, and that was assuming that you had a good backpack.

She looked around but didn’t spot Franz, nor any of their neighbors. They must have been already sent out ahead. It looked as if the four were among the last ones out of the mustering point.

They got ordered to start walking along the street and found themselves quickly on the main street that bisected the city from west to east. Individual soldiers lined the street, directing the pack of levies. A handful of citizens looked curiously, before shuffling aside, taking refuge in the side streets to let the procession pass.

Johanna spotted a man talking angrily at a soldier, before a second trooper reached his comrade, wielding its pike meaningfully as they pushed the angry citizen away.

She looked back, but the adjutant waved his hand at her.

“We’ll talk once on the road,” he merely said.

They crossed the gate of Valetta and found the rest of the levies assembled, soldiers at the ready. What interested Johanna was that soldiers were bringing out horses. Actual horses. Two of the soldiers vaulted into the saddle and started at a small trot toward the southeast, moving ahead of the levies. One brought the last horse toward the adjutant, and the man climbed onto his horse, before waiting until all were assembled.

“Okay, levies. Time to walk. We follow the road southeast to the fork. Get going,” Captain Devereaux yelled.

“You are seasoned travelers, we’ll take the front,” the adjutant said from his saddle. “Follow me.”

Some of the other draftees threw a surprised look as they passed them, wondering what had singled them out. Johanna spotted Franz Nader, who frowned, mouthing a question. She shrugged a bit at him, but she realized she’d probably have to explain at one point why the adjutant wanted them.

They reached the head of the mass of Valetta levies, where the soldier squad that led the troop parted, leaving the adjutant on his horse to pass, along with the four.

“So… why?” Johanna finally asked.

“Why what?” the man asked back.

“Why all of this? Why us?”

“It’s simple. Very simple, in fact. The Montana Marches are at war with tribesmen from the North. They’re seeking to grab more lands, and for them, that means going south… where the people of the Montana already live.”

He threw a look at Johanna, before continuing.

“And now, they’ve enlisted the help of Wendigos.”

That mention surprised all of them.

“Thought them a legend?” Tom asked.

“No, they’re real. They’re a Changed people, spawned by the Changestorms of old. Huge, hairy, frightful savages, and needing large territories for hunting or cattle ranching,” the adjutant replied.

“They don’t farm?” Johanna asked.

“They’re carnivores. Full carnivores, unlike people. They can’t eat grain, vegetables, fruits, or anything like that. Only meat. Or milk. Or even blood, if you believe some of the stories, but I’m not too sure about that. So, their pastures take a lot of space. They were regularly at war with the northern tribes over land, or so we thought, but apparently, they’ve joined them now. And the Wendigos are at home in winter. Snow and ice don’t bother them, at all, and they have the upper hand over normal people in those conditions.”

Johanna realized the date. They were only a few days away from the Fall Equinox.

“And you’re bringing more troops for winter. Lots more troops.”

“We were relatively well-matched with the tribes, and could push them back beyond the borders every time. But with the Wendigos joining them, we started losing a lot of troops in winter. Wendigos don’t get ill or anything even in the worst winters, they thrive on it. We almost lost the Kootenai last year. If the Northmen can break out of the Kootenai Gap, they can wage a larger war, across a wide front. And if that happens… well, we won’t come and pick two hundred levies. We’ll get everyone we can grab, or the Marches are doomed.”

“Can’t the Union help? Surely the other states…” Laura began.

“For most of the central States, the Northern Marches are big enough to deal with their own troubles. Oh, I do not doubt that, if the tribes start spilling into the land, they might rise from their asses and send armies, per the Union treaty. But the Montana is so big. It is so strong. Surely it can stand on its own?”

The voice of the adjutant left little doubt about who was saying that.

“So, you’re running across all of Montana ‘drafting’ people like us…” Johanna said.

“Well, the council of Valetta had an interesting offer. Trading quality for quantity. A councilman told me about you three, and they asked if you were worth fifty levies instead.”

“They did what?” Tom blurted.

“They decided that drafting you might avoid drafting more of their youth. You should feel honored – after all, you might really be worth fifty raw recruits. The right person in the right place can. I don’t know yet, but I’m willing to bet since I’m a bold man. After all, I know what a sorceress can bring to the table.”

“You know a sorceress?” Johanna asked, surprised.

Adjutant Agnello looked at her, shrugging.

“Your fellow magic wielders are rare, but not that rare. Lady Worchester, the Sorceress of the Mists of the Montana has been supporting the Warden in his efforts for more than half a decade. She has derailed more than one offensive, and even saved his life once.”

“Is that how that sergeant knew I’m immune to fire?”

“I know that almost all sorcerers tend to be immune to their own talent and element. It made sense that, if you’re using fire yourself, you’d be immune to it.”

“Wait, you didn’t know? I could have been burned?”

“Sergeant Mord isn’t dumb. If it looked like it was actually burning you, he’d have stopped. And that would have meant you weren’t real.”

He looked at her again.

“You can really set weapons afire?”

Johanna sighed in defeat. That particular ox had left the barn, and there was no pretending to be a normal woman, not with her fire immunity betraying her. She pointed at the dagger at the man’s side. pointed at the dagger at the man’s side.

“May I?”

He looked down, then drew out the blade and handed it. She picked it by the pommel, and immediately lighted it as soon as his fingers let it go. She heard his sharp exhalation.

“See.”

She slashed in the air with the blade, flame trailing behind without being extinguished, then let the flame subside, and handed the dagger back. Agnello ran his thumb across the blade.

“There’s nothing. It’s not even hot.”

“No. Even if I let it burn for half an hour, it doesn’t heat. It only burns while the flame’s there.”

“You can sustain that for half an hour?”

“A bit more than that.”

She lifted her hand and brought the flame up.

“Although I don’t need a blade.”

Agnello whistled.

“It looks like I wasn’t sold a bill of goods then. You are a true sorceress. Most impressive.”

He looked at the rest.

“And I assume the rest of you are as good as I’ve been told. First, a possible artifact, next three Talented.”

“Artifact?” Johanna blurted.

“Yes. One of the councilors – the one that had the idea to send you instead of fifty levies – asked if the Warden might be interested in purchasing an artifact sword. Which I understand…”

“… can cut everything.”

“You know about it. Oh, wait. You’re salvagers. Did you…”

“We found it over a month ago in the western ruins. So, that was Grievar who told you about us?” she asked, incredulous.

“That’s the councilor, yes.”

“Well… if you want the sword cheap… we’re still owners. He’s getting 25% of the sale, but maybe you can get a better deal. The contract states that we pick the buyer, after all,” she said with a nasty smile that even surprised her when she realized it was there.

The adjutant looked at her oddly, before he threw back his head and laughed.

“I’ll make sure the weapon master that will come to appraise its worth will suitably… lowball.”

Moore had a frightful surprise when he saw what those soldiers had brought out.

Equoids. At least the System prompt identified these as level 2 and 3 creatures of that name.

Sure, they looked like perfectly normal and fine horses. Not that he was a specialist, as he’d only seen horses in movies and shows. But dogs, cats, oxen, all the normal animals he’d seen in the town, or the farms never had a prompt. Even the one rat he’d spotted once running in the town’s alleys or the birds perched over homes didn’t have one. Just monsters like the Canids and Lepuses.

Yet, here they were saddling monsters as if they were ordinary animals.

Okay. There must be a rational explanation.

But what? Moore had no idea whatsoever why horses had levels. And the name Equoid did not fill him with confidence.