Mr. Talented turns to Arthur but the pirate-son doesn’t bother to acknowledge the glance, maintaining his slight frown and furrowed brows. The future hero clears his throat self-consciously before turning back to me. “The Squires asked me to check on your preparations. You may not be an official member of our group but as fellow acolytes, it’s only right that we look out for one another.”

“…the who?”

He looks at me in disbelief. “The Grand Squires. It’s what we call ourselves. You know, after the old practice of knights training individual disciples before the orders? It’s on all our invitations.” At my continuing incomprehension, he sighs. “It doesn’t matter. I was sent to check on you. Are your preparations going well?”

“Why are these squid people interested?”

“It’s…” He pauses to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “They are concerned whether you have made adequate preparations. This is your first campaign and the Bleak Peaks are very dangerous. If you are not prepared, you can die within a day.”

“Speaking from experience, are you?”

“This is also my first experience but there are senior acolytes amongst the squires and we are being advised by one of the foundation instructors.”

“Hm. Well, I don’t have an instructor looking over my work but I’m confident in my preparations, thank you.”

“I have with me a checklist. If you like, I can go over your supplies with you—”

“No need.”

He pauses. “The Squires have also extended an invitation for you to travel with us.”

“Oh? Sure about that? I’m anticipating at least one or two groups to try and take my head. Your squids can get caught up in the danger.”

“I explained that to the commander. He agreed that with us escorting you, the hunters are less likely to make an attempt.” The future hero glares at me. “He agrees that there shouldn’t be any more deaths.”

Wow. What kind of idiot calls himself commander when leading a bunch of baby acolytes? But, hm. This has potential.

While I don’t relish spending weeks in Mr. Talented’s company, having him and his friends as meatshields should the hunters try their luck is appealing. “Alright. We’ll tag along. But I have to warn you, I’m bringing a little more than a single wagon.”

“…how many are you bringing?”

Geneva, what was the count for the wagons?

[Sixteen.]

“Sixteen.”

“Six—" I chuckle as he swears. “By the saints, what do you need sixteen wagons for?”

“Waging a war takes resources.”

“Not that many!”

“If you’re planning to survive, sure, you can pack all you need in one wagon, maybe two. But you see, Mr. Legend, I’m not preparing to survive. I’m preparing to win.”

“What…what does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about that. Since we’re traveling together, we need to coordinate our schedules.”

“…we plan to move out on Restday, sixth bell.

I’ve gained an extra day then. “Where should we meet up?”

“In the Grand Market, by the lifts. We plan to do final checks before we leave and a few of the instructors want to say a few words.”

“Alright. I’ll see you then.”

“Good. I’ll, uh, see myself out.” Mr. Talented leaves the living room with a slightly perplexed look on his face. I wonder if it’s because we just had a cordial meeting. It’s a first and I admit, thoroughly unexpected.

He didn’t spout any uncalled-for insults or make any disparaging insinuations, got to the point, and left before he overstayed his meagre welcome. Saints, if the boy is this reasonable in the future, we might become benign acquaintances. Who’d have thought?

As the front door closes, I fix myself a cup of tea. It’s lukewarm but a quick spell fixes that. “And? Are you going to say something?”

Arthur glances at me. “That boy despises you. I can see it every time he looks your way.”

“As long as he controls himself, I can control myself. I tolerated you, didn’t I?”

He grunts in acknowledgement. “My father wants me to head east but I can’t waste an entire season.” His eyes glow. “What your creature did…in many ways, it was horrifying and painful, but it kept true to your words. For everything I suffered, I also gained. Yet, that is also torture. To know what it means to be strong and then be returned to this pitiful state.”

He clenches a hand into a tight fist before relaxing. “I want to reclaim that strength, for real this time. I’m not going to get there sitting on my ass, wallowing in self-pity. One thing holds true after my ordeal. I still think my best bet is to throw in with you.” He smirks. “Permission to come aboard, captain?”

I eye him. It’s Arthur. I should laugh in his face and throw him out on his ear. But I can’t deny that he’s changed. He’s cleaned himself up, robbed some manners, and, saints witness, I dare say he’s treating me with respect.

Real respect, not the begrudging acknowledgment that he better watch his mouth or I’ll bludgeon him.

It is a lot of wagons. Having an extra pair of eyes I can relatively trust on them couldn’t hurt. And his situation is partially my fault. “What was it you were muttering about? Being the king of the west?”

I swear there’s a gleam in his eyes. “Are you opposed?”

“Saints, no. You want the coast, you can have it. Sounds absolutely horrible anyway.” What do I care about a beach when I’ve got my eyes on other worlds? “Just as long as you understand you’re still my lackey, crown or no crown.”

He laughs. “Already used to that. If it’s one thing that creature taught me, it’s that there’s always a bigger fish in the sea. I’m happy as long as I have my share.”

“I want to go on about how I expect you to clean yourself up and act with at least a bit of decorum…but that’s not really necessary, is it?”

“I outgrew that kind of behavior long ago.” He frowns. “Cheh. That never gets less annoying. What I mean is that the creature showed me the folly of my behavior. Behaving like an animal is not a testament of freedom or power, but a show of stupidity. A good image is as useful as a fearsome reputation.”

What is this strange feeling? It reminds me of watching the young boys in the village practice ridiculous attempts at sword skills with wooden sticks, whooping and cheering when one of their fellows gets it right. Or watching a dog perform a trick.

It’s amusement mixed liberally with indulgence and…maybe a hint of pride. Saints.

“And? What are you carrying you don’t want Mr. Upright to know about and is it dangerous? And do you mind bringing out something other than tea? Never took a liking to it.”

Bell, bring a bottle and two glasses. I’m not insensitive enough to flaunt Geneva in front of him. “What makes you think there’s anything in the wagons?”

“You’re not reckless, Lou. There’s no reason to turn down advice from those more experienced, especially when it comes to something as dangerous as the campaigns. You don’t like him but you don’t hate him. Certainly not enough to turn down help. Only thing I can think of is you’re bringing something you don’t want him, or his squiddies, to know about.”

He looks away as Bell enters with a tray. He takes it from the imp and pours us both a glass of Herbanacle. “Ah. In my…false life, after I imprisoned you, I guzzled down your stash and couldn’t get my hands on another bottle.”

“You didn’t go to Howie?”

“I’m guessing that’s whoever is responsible for its creation? Hm. I don’t remember clearly. Many of the less important memories are fading. Anyway, are you going to tell me what you’re taking to the north?”

“Nothing nefarious.”

“Valuable?”

“Depends on the person. I’m planning on dragging along enough drink to get an entire army drunk, so that’s valuable. The rest…eh. I suppose but it’d be a pain if someone stole it. Besides, I don’t think, eh, Bert and his band of merry men are going to rob me. I just don’t want them poking their noses into my business.”

“Which is?”

“I told him, didn’t I? I’m going there to win.”

Arthur sips his drink and pours a refill. “To win…you think you can push back the armies of the winter lords and claim land beyond the Bleak Peaks. Then those wagons are building materials.”

I let my smile answer him.

“You’re insane. Then again, I already knew that. You’d have to be to go around with that horrible creature.”

“She’s not so bad when she’s magically sworn to obey your every order and cannot harm you.”

“Stars and seas. Maybe I should learn summoning.”

I lean forward excitedly. “Are you interested? I know plenty of interesting water elementals.”

“Close your sails, woman. I said maybe.”

“Cheh.”

“That’s a lot to cover with a handful of people. Have you thought of hiring some help?”

“Sure.” It’s common sense for caravans to be escorted by large armed forces, whether they be a trading house’s personal forces, knights, or hunters. “But for every pair of extra hands, that’s another mouth to feed, a body to shelter, and a coin purse expecting to be filled. My house will guard the most valuable stuff. The rest of it, eh. It’d be very annoying to lose any cargo but it’s far from irreplaceable. Besides, it’ll only happen once.”

“Because you’ll make a horrible example out of anyone who does attack you.”

“And no one will have the daring to do it again. My wife is looking forward to it.”

“You’ve signed yourself up for a world of trouble with that one.”

“You’ll learn the joys of marriage one of these days. Ah, wait. Didn’t you say something about being married?”

Instead of answering, he downs the rest of his glass and stands up. “See you Restday.”

I’m not so boorish as to force an answer from him. “See to your own supplies. If you’re lacking in money, tell Earl.”

“Generous.”

“Try to take anything you don’t need and I’ll recoup my losses in blood.”

“Aye, captain.”