The rain was heavier than Michael had expected and he adjusted the water-proof tarp he'd bought to better cover himself. The road had been relatively safe, so he wasn't wearing his full armor, just the breastplate with the helmet at his side.

Ollie had simply summoned a barrier over himself that kept any rain from touching him. He likely could've extended it over Michael as well, but of course he hadn't offered. They were riding in a merchant's cart that happened to be headed in the same direction that they were. Michael had healed the man's gout and helped with a bite on his mule's leg so he'd been more than happy to accommodate them. The merchant diverted his cart to the far side of the road so that a number of Swandian cavalry could pass by.

"What's that? The fourth group of soldiers that passed or the fifth?" asked Ollie as he adjusted a sack of potatoes to his right into an armrest.

"Fifth," replied Michael.

"They must really think the Cantalian's are fucked."

Michael frowned, remembering Tai's, one of the twin leaders of Gemini's, words when he'd told him he would be leaving. Hearing him yell that he was choosing to let so many of his former comrades die.

Ollie noticed his friend's expression through the rain and tarp somehow.

"You're not all that important, mate. Tai was just emotional. No one was having a good time."

"That's true," admitted Michael. The ambush had been rough. Gemini had managed to handle it well, but the Burndan forces still managed to kill Devahn, Alvarez, Davi and a number of others. He knew he was making the right decision to leave. The gods themselves had told him what he needed to do. It was hard to have better support than that, but as always he felt a pang of guilt. He sighed and just put it in the pile with all of his other shames and regrets that he would be regularly revisiting as his catholic upbringing required. At least he wasn't finding himself wallowing in that particular pit as often lately.

"Oi lads, we're about to reach Lakeside. You may want to hop off to avoid the merchant tax," yelled the driver through the rain.

"Thanks Grant!" Michael hollered back grabbing his pack and hopping off the back of the cart onto the road, followed by Ollie who glided just a bit to land softly. Merchants and those travelling with them were typically charged a higher fee to pass through and stay in any town or village in Swandia. Michael was still unclear on whether or not that was an official stance or simply the way the country worked, but either way he went ahead and prepared a small handful of coppers he hoped would suffice for himself and Ollie.

They reached Lakeside just a bit behind Grant and Michael's low bribe proved sufficient as the guards waved him through after receiving the handful of jingling copper. Lakeside seemed to be a fairly bustling town even in the rain. A number of men and women in cloaks were walking quickly along the cobblestone streets to do business and a number of merchants were lined up at the stables to pay for their beasts of burden to be cared for and their goods properly stored. The buildings were the same as they'd seen throughout Swandia. They were mostly brick with tiled roofs in an oddly swooped style.

It was late afternoon and with the heavy rain there seemed little reason to get back on the road to keep travelling only to be forced to camp in the wetness and mud. Ollie and Michael walked down the main street in search of an inn or tavern. Luckily they came upon the 'Fieldmouse's Hollow', which appeared to be both. They opened the door to walk inside and Michael felt a blast of warm air. The Fieldmouse was a busy place with a number of merchants, travelers, and even a handful of mercenaries all too busy drinking, talking, and generally cavorting to even react to them.

Michael moved over to the fire where a number of other people had hung wet clothes over a nearby rack to dry and added his waterproof tarp to their number. After that he approached the bar which had a man and a woman working at it. Both of them were older, and were very busy slinging ale when they reached them.

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The woman was closer and when she had a moment she slid over to them. Her hair was held back by a light blue bonnet, and in spite of how busy she'd been she spared them a smile.

"Welcome in boys, if your here for a room we still have three available, if you want an ale it's two copper per cup, if you're just here to dry off for a bit, that's fine, but you aint staying overnight without paying, if you want food we have stew, stew, or stew."

"We'll take a room, two ales each, and some of that stew stew stew too too too," said Michael with an affable smile.

"Coming right up, stew's a half-copper per bowl."

With that the woman slid back across the bar to address another customer's needs. Michael and Ollie sat just people watching for a few moments, and didn't even realize when four mugs of ale and two bowls of stew were placed in front of them.

"Cheers," said Ollie holding a mug up.

Michael tapped his own mug against his and they both drained nearly half of the first mug before they tucked into their stew. It was bland, but filling. Michael and Ollie both ate it in minutes, bland or no it was the first hot meal they'd had in several days. After a second bowl and finishing their ales they were both feeling much refreshed.

"How do you think the food in Old Hume will be?" asked Ollie.

"It's largely coastal so… lots of fish? You hoping for some marsupials to eat?"

"Maybe… It's pretty good. Hard not to overcook though." Ollie raised a hand and whispered something and their empty mugs floated gently over to the lady bartender who grabbed them and winked at them as she put them at the back of the bar where a number of other ones were stacked.

"What do you think Marcus and Pyotr are up to?" asked Michael.

"Pyotr is probably spending the night in Syl's tent and Marcus likely fleecing some of the Cantalians that don't know him yet. That or they're in the midst of some kind of horrible siege."

"I hope it's the first one," said Michael.

"Not like they didn't have a chance to come with us," replied Ollie. "Besides, once we get to Old Hume we'll be just as fucked as they are from what you told me."

Michael remembered his vision of the mighty steer slamming against the world, its blood flooding across everything. "We'll probably be even worse off honestly."

"This is why I stick with you," said Ollie, smiling. "The optimism."

Michael laughed in response, and noticed a few of the mercenaries that were in the bar with them were moving closer.

Ollie raised an eyebrow to Michael.

"Whatever it is, let's let them make the first move. I don't want to be forced back into the rain."

Ollie nodded.

Three of the mercs stayed back a bit, while the third one put himself right between Michael and Ollie, facing Michael. The mercs weren't wearing armor, but had daggers belted at their waist. Their movements and scars indicated they had some experience.

"You boys have a strange accent. Lots of words mixed into your Hume that I don't recognize. Where are you from?"

"Stent," said Michael, meeting the man's gaze. His eyes were blue and watery with flecks of brown mixed in, like a shallow puddle on a filthy street.

"Stent eh? That's pretty fucking far. Pretty fucking foreign."

"This is a bad idea, mate," said Ollie, shaking his head.

"I think you're from further away than Stent," said the man, ignoring Ollie's words. "I think you're both takers." He practically spat the word in Michael's face.

Michael looked at him calmly. "We are. This is Swandia. We're allowed our freedom here. What do you want?"

"Disgusting. I'm from Svict, a country that actually knows what to do with takers. I can't believe this country lets murderers like you go free. Do you ever feel remorse? For the child you killed? For the family you tore apart?"

Michael looked at him calmly, his eyes silver instead of their usual blue. "I do. Every day. Do you ever feel bad for the fire?"

The man blinked and stepped backward a bit. "What?"

"How many people were in the building? Did you learn their names? Do their cries ever come to you when you try to sleep? The cries of this body's parents find me before I fall asleep often."

The man was starting to hyperventilate and stumbled backward a bit.

Michael kept his silver gaze on him, cocking his head a bit as he looked at him. "You can still find redemption Matthias. Listen for the voice of the gods. They're here again even for someone like you. You just need to listen closely enough."

Matthias just stumbled back a bit more and then ran out of the building into the rain. The other mercenaries with him watched their friend run out and then looked at Michael with fear before following him.

Michael blinked, ending his Eyes of Judgement blessing before ordering another ale from the bartender who was eyeing him more than a little warily.

Ollie shook his head. "I think it might've been nicer to just kick his ass."

Michael shrugged. "Doing good isn't always nice."

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