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The Road to Oslost

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We had decided to walk straight for the next town, Yestloblast, to catch the train to the Easternmost border of the Northern Territories, where we could board another engine for Oslost. The whole journey would take only about a day. Yet the walk to Yestloblast alone, however, would take until the late evening. Because we were all headed for territories that were further North, Temlot and Larissa still stuck by our group, albeit at a greater distance than before.

“Perhaps we could rent a cart," Forticay proposed. “It could be faster."

“The road isn't that wide," Vage observed, noting the small width of the dirt path, trodden over so much that the snow had long-ago turned into streaks of brown slush that drastically contrasted with the white snow to either side. “One wagon breaking down would create a backlog."

“Besides," Novka added. “We don't want to get caught up in this evacuation mess." We were, after all, far from the only ones on the road. It seemed that this was the most-direct route to Yestloblast – and thus, the train station – so the muddy street was moderately scattered with bundled-up refugees of every conceivable species and race, some of them walking hunched, with large sacks of goods thrown over their shoulders, and others sitting high atop carts piled with their belongings – trunks, furniture, and rolled-up carpets sticking off the sides and the back – that, in most cases, a single horse would struggle to pull. That was not to say that the road was crowded: at any given point, one could turn in a circle and see perhaps eight to ten people in total, with maybe one or two carts, so the pathway was by no means overwhelmed. Nevertheless, there was no way that this many people were streaming out of the simple little village that we had just arrived in – people had to be coming from other villages along the road, as well.

It was odd to see so many retreating further into Northern territory, as the land upon which we currently walked had once belonged to Ressex, before the war. But then again, many of these people were probably going to try their luck at getting all the way to a neutral country in the East, which could only realistically be done via train or carriage. I thought about the difficulty of that, and turned back to Novka, who was walking a few paces behind me.

“It'll be difficult to secure any sort of passage out of here, let alone to Oslost, if everyone else is doing the same thing," I reasoned.

“And we're already on track to be behind schedule," she replied, clearly aggravated. Was it something I had done? I thought back to the near-mental breakdown I had not too long ago.

“I've seen columns of refugees like this before – very few of them will make it onto the train, if they really are all heading to Yestloblast." It was then that it occurred to me, quite randomly, as I uttered the name of the city – Yestloblast was in traditional Northern territory. It was right on the old border, sure, but still technically North of Ressex: I was behind the front line. All of those weeks, months, and years I had spent the infantry, fighting tooth-and-nail for inches of ground, and here I was on the opposite side. It felt odd…I almost felt like I didn't deserve to be there, but there was also a small sense of pride, and accomplishment, that was associated with the realization, in some weird sort of way. I must have been one of the few regular infantry troops to actually have legitimately crossed enemy lines as a non-prisoner.

“Then I'm assuming you'll come in handy," Novka stated frankly in response to my cautionary remark.

“What?"

“This is one of the reasons we picked you: you're human, you're a good shot; and, apparently, a hell of a former soldier. Don't let us down." She said these words in a seething tone.

“Have I done something," I questioned, unsure.

“When were you going to bloody tell us?" She snapped, finally losing her temper a little. It was just the two of us walking at the head of the group, but I knew that we were within earshot of everybody else, aside from perhaps Larissa and Temlot, who lingered far behind.

“Tell you what?"

“That you have fucking shell shock,"1 she replied as if it should have been obvious – it was.

“I didn't know it was still a problem – it wasn't a problem anymore, until today," I lied, speaking in a defensive tone.

“You nearly got us all spotted back there," she snapped, clearly either not believing or unsympathetic to my claim.

“Look, I'm sorry," I returned, pathetically. “If I thought it would have been a problem, I would have said something. It just didn't occur to me." I left out the part, of course, where I did worry that it would be a problem, even talking with Larissa about it beforehand, and that the main reason I didn't mention it right from the start was because I wanted sixty-thousand salir.

“Hm, why would it have been a problem?" Novka retorted with mock curiosity. “Oh, I don't know, maybe because we're crossing the bloody front line!"

“Give him a little slack," Forticay shouted sympathetically from behind us. “Nothing problematic actually occurred."

“But it almost did," Novka snapped, and sighed. “Look," she grumbled. “I know we aren't the most-open characters, and that secrecy runs deep in our types of circles – hell, I know that I'm a pretty stubborn person: it comes with the role…But the bottom line is that if there is something wrong with you that could jeopardize our task, then the rest of us need to be aware of it." I sighed: she was right.

“That will not happen again," I affirmed sternly, referring to my near-panic attack. “It has never been triggered like that in years. Once we are away from the front line, I'll go back to normal." I could tell that she was still frustrated with me. “It's not the gunshots," I continued, more animated. “It's not the artillery, it's not the corpses, it's not even the mud: it's all of those things combined, on the geographical location of the front lines, that I still can't tolerate. But that's behind us, now."

“Just be sure to make yourself useful as we continue," she stated plainly, with a touch of annoyance. “Because so far, you've only been good for finding expired bread." I didn't feel much anger, even as my frustration continued to grow – I mostly only felt bad. It didn't matter that nothing troublesome actually came of my outburst – I felt like my action of nearly jeopardizing the mission was a betrayal enough, and I was uncomfortable with that. “We're all struggling to survive out here," Novka continued, referring to our little task force. “So don't blow the rest of our chances of earning an income." I doubted that any of them had struggled as much as I had. “Besides, I didn't want you on this voyage, anyway." Anger suddenly spiked inside me, and unfortunately, I let it slip.

“Novka," I began, frankly but still with an effort at politeness. “I respect you as a leader, and you're really good at your job." She looked at me with surprise, and then shocked frustration, as if not anticipating my lecturing retort. “And I know about your unfortunate incident with the King of Tuline, but you need to know that you still had it better than ninety-five percent of people out there, human or not. I went through hell on the front lines, all in the name of unity, and you know what: no one's extended a helping hand to me, either." I could see her face flare with anger, so I continued before she could interject, likely only making my situation worse. “What happened to you in Tuline was unjust – it never should have happened – but I think this whole thing would run a lot smoother if you stopped treating everyone else like cannon fodder who have no idea what you went through."

“You don't, have any idea what I went through," she seethed.

“No, I don't," I replied calmly, trying my hardest to maintain my composure. “But I went through something much worse…Try losing a dozen of your good friends to a machine gunner," I added.

“Try watching them simply turn their backs on you," she stated, less with anger than with a matter-of-fact tone. “I've heard enough horrifying stories of the war. I know that I'll never know what that was like…But at the end of the day, your friends died – mine abandoned me and continue to live as comfortably as ever today. Which is worse merely depends which one you experienced." She spoke with a surprising calmness, and was clearly ready to end the conversation there. I started to feel bad again – obviously, I thought she was wrong. I easily had it worse. Yet, her frustration was still justified.

“I'm sorry," I finally stated. She had begun to outpace me, but I jogged back over to her. “I'm just…That was really stressful back there. You're right – I don't know anything about what you went through." Partly, I was simply trying to ensure that we were still on good terms – I didn't need to be seen as the most expendable member of our group. “I met friends form Tuline in the infantry," I shrugged. “When the old king was still in power," I guessed. “They spoke of him rather fondly. They loved their country. They loved it enough to die in a war for it, and its neighbors. I'm not saying I fought for Tuline – because I didn't, I just fought for the Federation – but we won victories on the battlefield, though I knew that Henlot, Agranda, Brost…These countries were all corrupt in some way, and it never feels good to know that that's what you're defending. So, I'm sorry that that happened in Tuline."

“Wasn't your fault," Novka stated with a shake of the head, not in a reassuring way, but in a way that made it seem like she was tired of talking to me and wanted me to go away. “But my frustration at you at the moment is due simply to your near-obliteration of our mission. Outside of that, my opinions of you carry no weight on my actions." She walked ahead again. So much for trying to apologize. I supposed that was as good of a conclusion as I would receive at the moment, so I just let it slide, but the conversation still kept knowing at the back of my mind. I walked in silence, eavesdropping on Vage and Forticay's occasional light chatting from time to time for at least a half hour. I didn't really want to talk with anyone, not even Larissa. I was finally broken out of my trance, however, when my left boot suddenly sloshed into a puddle that the icy brown slush had been hiding. I went lurching forward, spreading my hands out and soaking my gloves upon the muddy ground to break my fall. Vage chuckled.

“Crosses the front line and is almost killed by a puddle," he stated.

“You all right?" Forticay walked up to me from behind, offering me his hand. I grabbed his arm and pulled my boot from the slush. The mud was freezing, and the thickness of it held fast to my ankle, making a sucking sound as I lifted it out. “Egh," Forticay groaned in disgust as he looked at his coat sleeve, wiping away the muddy marks that my hand had made.

“You go ahead," I said, gazing around and spotting a discarded, empty wooden box by the side of the road. “I'll catch up."

“Are you sure, mate?"

“I'll be fine…Just make sure Novka knows I'm not plotting her death," I joked, even forcing a slight smile.

“Sure thing," Forticay smiled, clearly in higher spirits now that the Front was safely behind us. “But don't hold up too long," he shouted back, forcing Vage to also glance back for a moment. I hobbled over to the box and sat down, yanking off my boot, turning it upside down and letting the water trickle out before rolling the cold, wet sock off of my foot and flailing it around to stretch it back out. Footsteps approached me: it was Larissa. Her large, clawed feet stepped into my vision – three large toes of considerable length, extended by sizable claws at the ends.

“You ok," she asked. I looked up.

“How do you people not wear shoes," I shook my head. “I'm going to lose my bloody toes."

“Just sort of something you build up tolerance for," she said with what I imagined was a shrug – I was too focused on digging a dry sock rom my bag. “I've always felt bad that humans have to wear boots," she chuckled. “They seem inconvenient, and expensive."

“They are expensive," I nodded with a sigh. “The first pair of boots they gave me in the infantry disintegrated after two months," I chuckled, “They're not made like the uniforms are, unfortunately."

“Well, you're better off than us here." I was about to ask what she meant by that, but then I remembered the dire political situation in most of the Northern Territories, the majority of which didn't even legally recognize most species as equals with humans. In fact, the territory we were currently in (Janvelt, I thought) had a sort of social hierarchy of who had more legal privileges. Usually, humans were on the top, of course, and I believed coyotes, as well (who were for some reason not nearly as discriminated against compared to most other species), then wolves and foxes, then lizard and birdfolk, then everybody else, and then…Dragonborn. I looked up at Larissa. She was giving me a slight smile, but I could tell that she was nervous.

“Believe it or not, war is disruptive," I shrugged, trying to reassure her, though I wasn't sure that I was doing a very good job. “Any place along the front lines that had any sort of unethical systems in place before the fighting started has long-since abandoned them, believe me," I began to explain as I tied the laces of my boot, having put a new sock on. There was actually some legitimate truth to my words. “All it really comes down to is who is strong enough to fight or who has the money to pay for transportation to safety." I yanked the ends of my laces and stood to my feet, giving a quick nod to Larissa. “We best catch up." We walked on in silence for a few moments before I spoke up again. “Thank you, by the way, for helping me back there," I nodded, referring to her calming me down on the front lines.

“I didn't really do much," she chuckled. “I just grabbed you and said you were 'ok.'"

“And yet that helped," I shrugged, kicking a stone down the street. It landed in a puddle with a sloshing sound. “Frankly, any distraction helps."

“But it's never that bad usually?"

“No, not that bad," I stated, pulling my cigarette case from the pocket of my coat, grabbing one from within and closing it with a click. I began searching for my lighter, patting down my pants pockets. “It's improved significantly over the past few years." I said these words while trying to hold the cigarette in my mouth. I found the lighter and flicked it open – it unhinged with a metallic sheathing sound, the flame radiating my lower face with warmth for but a moment. I turned to her. “Oh, did you want one?" Within moments, we were both walking down the street, cigarettes in hand, coats unfastened – it had warmed up just enough for me to leave it open, taking into account my other layers and undershirt, but it was still quite cold out. More and more of the street continued to turn to mud and slush as the day wore on.

Larissa had apparently exchanged her blue coat for a light-brown one, with fur around the hood, which she kept down. It honestly fit her even more, I thought, though still seemed odd, considering that I had only really ever seen her in a blue coat before then (aside from her even-more peculiar debut as a soldier of the infantry). This new coat was just as long as the other one, extending past her knees. That was another thing I didn't understand – how did people walk with digitigrade legs? It looked so difficult to me, but no one who had them seemed to treat it that way (and everyone had them, save a few species). And why were those of plantigrades different?...Oh, yeah, no tails to counterbalance. Thank you, high-school biology.

“You know, I actually didn't do much to help you out of your panic," Larissa suddenly stated as we walked.

“Sorry?"

“I'm saying that I think you're more resilient than you give yourself credit for," she clarified swiftly, almost as if embarrassed by the words. I allowed myself to simply accept the compliment.

“I have come a long way, I suppose…Thank you."

"Have you ever seen a doctor about it?"

"I have...Recommendations, yes," I confirmed, pausing to take another puff from the cigarette before releasing it with a satisfied exhale. "The Federation is at least kind enough to offer us medical care while we're still in the military. They started putting me on treatments way back then."

"Are you still on them," Larissa asked with a slight tilt of the head.

"No, not since I was discharged," I replied regrettably. "We get three months of continued medical care before they cut us off, which I suppose is enough for most physical injuries, but they pretty much just cut me loose as soon as that time had passed." I could tell that she was slightly disturbed at hearing this, as if she had already jumped to the conclusion that it was unjust.

"It's always baffled me how people have been willing to fight a war for so long," she suddenly stated, gazing off at the snow-covered fields in the distance, little straw twigs and blades of dormant grass poking up from the receding white sheet.

"Well, you said it yourself: look who we're fighting," I replied lowly. "Not that anyone wants to be at the front lines, at least after you go through your first week. But I suppose I ended up all right: time heals all, I guess." We walked on in silence, and eventually passed a shabby-looking wagon, piled high with random goods and household objects, a middle-aged wolf couple examining what appeared to be a broken axle, with the husband squatted on the ground. They looked like farmers, clothed in simple country sweaters with short, flannel coats.

“…I don't think we'll make it that far," I caught a snippet of what the woman was saying.

“I'm sure we'll be fine," the man replied reassuringly, standing and placing his hands upon his hips. I doubted that the cart could make it another half-kilometer.2

“All these people are headed to Yestloblast," I stated. “The trains will be packed. I don't know if we'll ever get on." Larissa was silent. “Not that it's any of my business," I suddenly began anew. “But where are you heading, anyway?" She turned to me.

“Ravnick teaches at the University of Aust,"3 she stated. “In Lester."

"What?" I was severely thrown off. She saw the shocked expression upon my face.

“It's the capitol of Oslost," she explained, confused.

"Uh, ye- Uh- Yeah, I know," I started, completely fumbling with my words.

“Ok," She nodded confusedly. “What are you…?" Her face suddenly reflected the realization that I was headed there, too. I suddenly worried that I had given away too much information – I was not supposed to tell anyone where we were going. “It's fine," Larissa reassured with a chuckle, seeing my worry. “I won't tell anyone." All at once my mind was racing. Maybe we could find similar lodgings. Maybe we could all book the same train. Maybe we could travel to Lester together. Maybe we could include her as part of the group, somehow. Maybe I could stay and help her find her brother afterward… I didn't know what I was thinking. I knew that all of those things would never happen, and I wasn't sure why I was even excited at the thought of half of them. I think I was just sorry to see someone who I related to so well leave.

“Where are you staying?" Was all I actually ended up saying. “In Yestloblast, I mean. It'll be late by the time we get there."

“I have some old letters from my brother," she stated. “I'm staying with an old friend of his who lives there. She may already know that I'm on the way – I tried writing her late last year that I intended to come up this way." All my hopes were dashed. Oh well – I didn't know why I had invested so much excitement in them, anyway. “What about you?"

“We don't know yet," I shrugged. “I'm sure we'll find some form of lodging as soon as we get there."

"You could find a refugee camp, perhaps," she suggested – they're not the safest, and accommodations are only minimal, but if the ones here are anything like the one we stayed at in Agranda, then it should suffice."

"Maybe, but I doubt we'll end up at one of those," I stated, lighting up another cigarette, holding a hand to the lighter as I did so to preserve the flame long enough for the tobacco to ignite. "Too many risks involved, and our stakes are...Higher." Just then, a faint white noise droned on in front of us. I stared ahead, and could catch glimpses of people moving to the sides of the road swiftly. The white noise turned into a rumble as figures emerged into view, growing in size rapidly. Soon enough, the others ahead of us stepped off to the side of the road, which was enough to convince me and Larissa to do the same. We had no sooner moved ourselves off of the center of the path than shouting could be heard. It was faint, at first – indiscernible – but then grew into a clear voice.

“Make way, tenth company! Make way, tenth company! Make way, tenth company!..." An officer on horseback shouted as he raced forward, the ends of his brown captain's overcoat flapping behind him. He was followed immediately by two flat, wooden carts, each pulled by two horses each, going equally as fast. They were piled with soldiers sitting plainly, their rifles resting upon the surface of the cart as they stretched out their legs or rested back to back, contrary to the determined, concentrated faces of the drivers, who drove the horses on at break-neck speed. All of them were birdfolk of various colors and plumage – most vibrantly so, which was an odd contrast to the dim landscape.

We turned to look at them as they sped in the direction of the Front. On the horizon, dark plumes of black smoke were still looming – much more than before. There was action on the front lines. Artillery still rumbled in the distance. Perhaps this was the advance that had been spoken of. The whole situation made me feel uneasy.

“I never understood why anyone would fight for an army that doesn't respect their rights," Larissa stated as the carts raced off into the distance. We turned and continued on our way.

“It's like I said: war confuses everything," I shrugged. “Back where I lived, in Henlot, we would hear news of people in the East Highlands joining the federal military to oppose the rebels of their own homeland all the time. It's just something that happens."

“It makes sense," Larissa sighed. “But I refuse to believe that anything has been improved by the war – not for these people."

“Oh, no, that's not at all what I was suggesting," I quickly rushed to clarify before I could be misinterpreted.

“I know," Larissa chuckled, and then seemed to withdraw for a moment before speaking again, gazing off into the distance with a thoughtful stare. “I wonder what it would be like to live in one of the Southern countries – where the Front's not a constant reminder of the war."

“Well, the war's seeped into daily life everywhere," I countered.

“Yes, but not as much, I'd imagine." She was right: countries like Ressex and Northfjord were far more steeped in disorder than other ones further south, like Tsvak and Asterlay, even if all of them were technically fighting the same war. “Was it really so intensely felt in Henlot? They supply the majority of our soldiers, don't they?"

“Henlot was…Bad," I nodded. “At least for me. There's not a lot of opportunities in many places, you know, especially in the cities."

“Where did you live?"

“Estlovan."

“Really?" Larissa's eyes shown with excitement. “The capitol city of the most powerful member of the Federation? I've only seen it in photographs. What's it like?"

“Huge," I chuckled. “But pretty," I conceded. “I mean, don't get me wrong, it is scenic, and there's a lot of prosperity there, but I wasn't a witness to most of that."

“But clearly you felt some sense of obligation," Larissa stated. “Or else you wouldn't have joined the military." I could tell that she knew already, but for some reason, I did not confirm to her the real reason why I had joined.

“Yeah, I suppose," I muttered, kicking another stone down the road. “They managed to keep me in school until I was sixteen," I chuckled. “Then I just sort of ran off."

“I wouldn't have guessed," Larissa shrugged. “You seem well-educated to me."

“Well, I mean, I'm not an idiot," I laughed. She did, too. “I just figured it was bordering on the impractical, as much as I love advanced calculus, specialized anatomy, and Ancient-Drudesriak history.4

“Hm," Larissa grunted. “I find all of that stuff fascinating. I would have stayed, if I were you." I shrugged.

“I'm not saying it's useless. It just wasn't for me."

“So what did you want to do?"

“Any number of things," I offered. “Trading, sailing…Anything that would take me around the world. Soldiering was never one of them, but, you know, that's just not how things turned out."

"So you really never found any of what you learned in school interesting," she asked, as if still not convinced.

"Well, I mean, I suppose that not everything was boring," I admitted with a chuckle. "I actually was very into geometry, even if I had some difficulty with the math."

"In what way?"

"To be honest..." I scratched the back of my head. "Architecture. You see buildings all over Estlovan that have the most impressive designs and facades, and that just always looked really cool to me."

"It sounds impressive," Larissa nodded. "A friend of my Father's was an a carpenter. He didn't do much with anything more than wooden houses, but he could carve amazing sculptures and statues. Apparently he was even hired by wealthier people from time to time."

"What happened to him," I asked casually as I kicked another stone down the road.

"I'm not sure – the war sort of interrupted everything once it found our village again. I think he was gone by then, probably to some city or another."

"Hm," I grunted, recalling one of my own, similar memories. "You know, when I was a child, there actually was an old man who would carve things out of ice in the winter time by my school."

"Like what?"

"People's faces, or objects...Sometimes miniature statues," I elaborated. "I remember that it used to fascinate me how well he had mastered it, not to mention that he always left with a hat full of change at the end of the day. I begged him one afternoon to teach me how to do it for so long that he finally promised to let me sit and watch him as he carved all day."

"Did he?"

"He told me to meet him at the same place the next week, and I was so excited, but then he died," I laughed.

"What?" Larissa a chuckled.

"He just died," I continued, chuckling. "Old age, I guess. I never got my ice-carving lesson."

"And you were so disappointed, you joined the military," she added. I laughed, We began to encounter a small, forested area, full of thinly-dispersed pine trees, the majority of the trunks bare, with the very tops covered with branches of sparsely gathered light-green pine needles, with a fat, bushy coniferous tree here and there still somewhat scattered with snow. They spread themselves out to either side of the road, too small to be a forest, but too large to be a copse.

“I like snow in trees," Larissa stated, gazing at one of the short, rich-green conifers near the road. I smiled, and felt a tinge of some warm sort of feeling spike in me for but a moment.5 We stopped once to eat our food, and reached the city of Yestloblast in mid evening.

---

To our relief, Novka was able to find a room for us, albeit at the most-expensive hotel in the center of the city, as we had been told by several individuals that it was the only one not offering free rooms to refugees, whom we could not risk dealing with. It was right along the main road, which at least led to the train station, so that was convenient. Having checked us into the hotel – into a rather sizable room, from what I could tell – and allowing us to drop off our things, Novka ensured that we were all occupied with some significant task. Martin agreed to go to the station and try to book us train tickets. As for me, Forticay, and Vage, we were instructed to make our way through the city, asking around to find any other possible way we could pay to get to the Eastern border, in the very-likely event that Martin would not be able to secure any tickets. Novka reminded me, of course, that as the only human in the group, besides Martin, I had access to the most buildings and private enterprises in Yestloblast – the burden of finding information fell on me, and I would see to it that I did not disappoint this time.

As for the others, Temlot had vanished as soon as we arrived in the city – he claimed to that there was some sort of company carriage waiting for him that was departing that very same evening, which sounded unlikely, but no one had any reason to question him on it. Larissa, on the other hand, lingered by our group for a while, even after everyone had split ways. I stood with her just outside the large, brick hotel, on the street. The buildings of this city were far more organized than any of the ones I had been in since this little venture had begun, aside from Khestolovska. The majority of structures were wide and multi-storied, most to the third or fourth story. Many of them were brick or molded concrete, testifying to the high status that this city had once held. It was actually surprisingly large, although that was merely relative to most of the places I had been to previously on this journey; but even then, it was about the size of Ervef, probably, and was easily dwarfed by Khestolovska. The streets were wide and, to my surprise, merely dirt. The snow had melted in most places along the roads, by now, with clumps of it still defiantly lingering in the street here and there, and much of the dirtied snow still piled along where the road met the walls of the buildings to either side. The temperature was dropping, and below-freezing weather would likely again set in before the night was done.

“Do you know anything about the city," I asked Larissa once we were alone on the street outside the hotel, few others milling about as they performed various tasks and ran various errands while there was still a little light.

“I don't know anything more than the address of the person I am staying with," she stated.

“Surely you must have heard something," I urged. “Another name or address."

“No, not really," she replied, shaking her head. She had put the hood of her coat up, the furry border surrounding her head, making it look small by comparison. I was starting to think there was not a single thing she could wear that wouldn't look attractive. “There's only a bar that my brother mentioned in the same letter in which he told me about my contact here," she said. “He said that I should go there if time permitted, because his friend recommended it."

“What was it called?"

“Vagabond Palace, I think," she replied.

“Could you take me there? If your brother heard of it all the way in Oslost, there may be somebody there significant enough to offer us passage."

“It depends," she said. “It's getting late, but I could take you if it's on the way." I knew that I shouldn't care if she came with me or not, but I had been holding off saying goodbye all evening. So had she, frankly, and she seemed to want to remain with me longer.

“Hang on," I stated, spotting an older-looking man in a black cap detaching a horse from a cart that had just parked along the side of the street. I jogged over to him. He wore heavy brown flannel and had white stubble marks upon his face. “Excuse me, sir," I began. He looked up at me as if he didn't have time to talk, but he still listened. “Do you know where I could find Vagabond Palace? It's a pub. I'm meeting a friend there tonight." He wore an expression that seemed to read, “why are you asking me?" But still told me where it was, anyway.

“Walk down that way until you reach Hoffstead Street," he stated, pointing down the main street in the direction opposite the station. “There, make a left. It should be on the second block." He went back to his work.

“Thank you." By then, Larissa had walked over.

“It's on Hoffstead Street. Is that in the direction of your place?"

“I'm on Hoffstead Street," she replied with a mix of surprise and hopefulness.

“I think I saw it as we passed." We walked our way down the main road, off to the side by the buildings, as the day grew increasingly dark. Only moments ago, it had still been relatively light; now, we had crossed into that point in the evening where one could zone out for just a few moments and then, upon taking in their surroundings again, find that it had become significantly darker. The dimming, overcast sky above appeared almost purple as the evening wore on – deep, dark clouds threatened rain or snow, but it looked like any possible storm would pass.

“You know how you're getting out of here, yes?" I confirmed with Larissa.

“My brother said his friend knew someone who could get me a carriage if I should ever come here here," she replied. “I don't want to stay for very long, so I will probably see if I can leave as soon as possible."

“And you're going to ride all the way to the Eastern border?"

“That's the plan."

"How long would that ride be," I asked, more curious than anything else. Larissa thought for a few moments.

"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest," she admitted. "A lot longer than the train will take, that's for sure. Maybe as long as a week, almost. Perhaps even longer, if the roads are disrupted. But it's better than nothing."

"I suppose," I nodded. "I had a friend – we served together – who had traveled all the way from Brost to Eastern Henlot by cab."

"Why?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I think he was with the postal service or something and then just kept getting transferred to other positions or something like that...I honestly can't remember how he explained it."

"To different countries?"

"I honestly have no idea how it worked," I shrugged.

"How long did it take him?" She seemed skeptical. I thought for a moment.

"About forty-five days," I offered.

"What? That's ridiculous," Larissa laughed.

"I don't know," I retorted defensively, but she cut me off.

"It would take sixty days, at least, with two fast horses, maybe, assuming everything went well."

"Look, I'm just repeating what he said," I offered, throwing up my hands in mock defense.

"Did you ever consider that you were lied to?" She chuckled. I did, too, but I also felt embarrassed for having repeated the stupid story. We walked on for a few moments without speaking.

“What will you do when you get there?" I finally asked

“Cross the border," she shrugged. “Find another carriage to take me to Lester, and then start looking for my brother there."

“Where will you start?" She thought for a moment.

“The student village by the university," she replied. “Ravnick once wrote that it's much cheaper than anywhere else in Lester."

“So I guess I know where to find you when…Things finish up for me," I stated, knowing that she would be fine with that.

“I suppose," she muttered.

“Hm," I grunted. We walked on in silence for a few moments

“Tovef, what are you doing," Larissa finally asked with a new tone of frankness, as if everything I had told her up until then had been a lie.

“What?"

“Why are you going to Oslost?" She turned her head to look me dead in the eyes. She looked sad, or worried. “I'm not an idiot – I know you're all criminals." she continued, looking forward again. We came across Hoffstead Street and turned left. The evening was a deep, dark blue, now, almost night. Light from the buildings along the street spilled out into the road through the windows. “And you're going to do something bad or something dangerous." I didn't say anything at first. I bit my lip and looked around. I knew that I would be violating the trust of the others if I told her, but for some reason, that didn't seem to matter to me just then, at least not as much as me being honest with her, for whatever reason.

“All right," I exhaled heavily. “We were hired, by some rich aristocrat in Northfjord, to do something…Bad, in Lester." I sighed. “I really want to tell you every detail, I would, but I don't know what kind of danger that could put you in." In all honesty, though, while that was the case, I also felt bad about betraying Novka's trust again.

“I get it," Larissa replied quietly, as if with respect. She also let out a heavy exhale. I looked over at her – her face was partially-hidden by the fur of her hood, but she soon turned, and we made eye contact.

“Will you die," she asked calmly, with a touch of both worry and sadness. I was silent: I hadn't expected that question, but I responded as if it were perfectly ordinary.

“I don't know," I replied, not sure what to say. “I don't think about these things."

“Why not?"

“Because I don't care anymore," I sniffled – it was cold, and my nose was starting to run. “I'm being paid a lot for this, and that's all I really considered. But all signs have pointed to danger, since the very first step I took in this job – everything has gone wrong; everybody hates each other."

“I don't think that," Larissa said suddenly. “Forticay likes you."

“Yeah, well…"

“Vage doesn't seem to dislike anyone in particular; granted, he's not the warmest character. Novka seems nice, too."

“Novka?" I raised an eyebrow.

“I think so," Larissa stated. “She seems dedicated. If you're worried about them cooperating, I don't think you should."

“I'm-" I started, cutting myself off when I realized that I didn't know what I was going to say. “I'm…Worried about a lot of things, right now."

“I thought you said you didn't care."

“I didn't," I sniffled again. “I haven't given a shit about anything since I was discharged."

“But you do now?" I looked at her, and swallowed. I didn't know how to answer that.

“I guess," I sighed, immediately furious at myself for having given such a disinterested and dismissive answer, but I didn't let it show…We walked on in silence, my thoughts gnawing at me – the lack of noise was overwhelming. I desperately tried to think of something to break the silence, but for the life of me nothing came to mind. Before long, we had almost reached the bar – I could see the oval, metal sign hanging off the wall of yet another one of the brick buildings. It was almost completely dark out, now. “Fuck," I finally muttered.

“What?"

“You know what." I cringed as soon as I had said this. She was silent. "Dammit. Fuck!" I chuckled with frustration. “Why?...Right..."

“Tovef, are you all right?"

“I'm…Fine," I sighed. We had reached the bar. The street was empty, save a few dark figures walking in the distance. We stood facing each other by the small, plain doorway, in the light of a single streetlamp hanging from the brick wall, our hands in our pockets. “I, um," I began awkwardly. “I don't think I've actually spoken with anybody, um, for this long, who I didn't have to work with, in a long time…" I swallowed, waiting for the embarrassment of my uttering that statement to set in. It didn't.

“For two days?" Larissa seemed somewhat concerned. I nodded. She did, too, as if in understanding.

“Me neither."

“Don't you have your sisters?"

“They don't count. No one in town respects me for what I do for a living." That made me feel slightly angry.

“I'm never going to see you again, will I?" My eyes began to water. Why was I feeling this? It hadn't even been three days. I worried that someone would see us: two destitute outcasts standing on the side of the street. We were probably the most unlucky pair in all of Vaymansphere. Larissa was silent. I could see that she, too, was battling down her emotions. I opened my mouth to speak and even took in a breath to do so, but my words never came out and I merely let out an exaggerated exhale. We just stood there, alone in the darkness of the late evening, somewhere between the surreal and reality. I wasn't sure what to do. I wanted to hug her, but I couldn't summon the energy to take my hands out of my pockets. But when she moved towards me, I reacted fast, wrapping my arms around her and her thick, heavy coat, my head pushing her hood back. It was a long, tight, passionate hug. I didn't want it to end. I closed my eyes and gently moved my arm down her back, pushing the side of my head against hers: it was scaly, and smooth, and warm. I didn't want to break away. A warm feeling overcame me. “I hope you find your brother," I muttered, and sniffled. She finally pulled away and stared at me with a sad, watery gaze.

“And I hope you find…Whatever it is that you're looking for."

“Yeah," was all I could muster with a few quick nods. We went back to just standing there, staring at one another, feeling sorry for ourselves.

“Well, I have to go," she finally sighed, and began to turn in the direction that we had been walking.

“Do you need me to walk you? It's dark." I wanted any excuse to delay saying goodbye for as long as possible.

“I should be fine," she replied. “The address is close." She turned and began to walk away, when I suddenly thought of something.

“Hang on." She stopped and turned, her hands in her pockets, as I wrestled open the buttoned pocket inside of my overcoat. I finally yanked out a wad of yellowish paper money – probably a thousand salir in all. “Here." She just stood there.

“I can't take that from you," she finally stated.

“Yes you can."

“I have money."

“But not enough," I stated quic kly. My eyes were still watery. I wiped them with the back of my other hand. “Please, just take it. There'll be more where that came from for me, anyway." She stood there for a few moments longer, clearly debating whether or not to take the money. I just stood there with my gloved hand, still damp from my fall earlier, outstretched, like an idiot, holding out a significant amount of money on that empty street. Anyone could have sprinted by and grabbed it. For all I knew, Larissa was playing me for everything I had – she was an expert at this, after all, and could easily have been manipulating me for my money. But I didn't even consider that. I could see in her eyes that that wasn't the case. Besides, either way, she had saved me from panic when we were crossing the Front, saving our whole mission – she earned this, regardless of her motives, which I knew were genuine in character. Finally, with a sudden expression of thankfulness, she stepped forward and took the money, grabbing the wad of cash with both hands as if it were some valuable treasure.

“Thank you," she whispered, hugging me tightly again. Again, I more than willingly returned the gesture, feeling her arms embracing me tightly – not a weak, awkward embrace between friends, but a truly appreciative, passionate hug.

“That should get you to Lester easily," I swallowed as we broke away.

“I have to go now."

“I know."

“Goodbye, Tovef." I merely nodded.

“Goodbye, Larissa." I shoved my hands into my pockets and stood there, watching her walk off. It had begun to snow lightly: just a few, tiny gentle flakes of a little snowfall – nothing that would stick to the ground. She turned around, looking back at me for a brief moment, and we locked eyes for but a few seconds before she turned again and went on her way. I watched her as she made her way to the end of the block, with her pack over her shoulders, and then sighed, turning towards the door of the bar. I wanted to do anything other than talk to people right now, but I had a job to do. I forced myself into a new state of mind, sniffling and trying to rid myself of all vestiges of the emotion that had been eating me up inside before. I actually did that pretty decently, but I still muttered curses under my breath as I pushed through the door.

Inside, the bar was dim, illuminate d by many lanterns that gave off a warm, yellow glow. It was warm, almost hot inside, and crowded. Dozens of men – most of them were men, for some reason – chatted and laughed in the wide room under the low wooden roof. A claustrophobic essence of the space was created by various walls separating different parts of the tavern, stacks of barrels piled here and there, and wooden columns supporting the floor above. All the people in there were humans, and many of them were probably locals. I slowly walked through the place, trying to locate anyone who may be able to find us transportation to the border. I saw nobody – only drunk men laughing as they gathered around wooden tables. I made my way to the bar counter and stood there, leaning my elbows upon it, lost in thought.

“Whisky, please," I stated to the bald, overweight bartender, who looked up from the glass he was cleaning for a moment and gave a nod, setting it down with the rag inside and grabbing a clean shot glass.

“Oy, mate," a large and very-drunk man in a white shirt that was unbuttoned to the upper chest stated obnoxiously as he suddenly leaned on the counter right next to me in the same fashion as I did. He had a short haircut and orange hair, with some beard stubble, giving his face a sort of childlike appearance. “What brings you around here, yeah?"

“I'm just passing through," I muttered, not in the mood to talk.

“Suurrrrrreee," the man smiled, exaggeratedly. “Say, 'enry, you think this man got a 'at like that over 'ere?" He grabbed the top of my ushanka and shook my head from side to side firmly. I did not react, not in the mood to engage with any of these guys at all.

“I'd say he's more likely one of the Federation's soldiers, a?" Another, younger and fatter-looking man dressed in a blue shirt with suspender straps smiled as he placed an arm on the counter on the other side of me. I saw the bartender look up, and then quickly decide that it was none of his business and continue to uncork the bottle of whisky. “I say we take him outside and see what his head looks like without the ushanka, and with the skull split open."

“All right, lad, let's go," the first man stated as he began to put an arm under mine and pull me away from the bar. I still didn't really react much.

“Don't you two gentlemen have better things to do?" A familiar voice sounded behind me. I suddenly became alert, turning around. Vage was standing there, towering over everyone else in the bar. A few people seemed to take notice of him, but everyone else was either too drunk or too involved in their card games to care.

“Oy, mate, no stags in here," the first man stated with an accusatory point.

“And whose going to enforce that policy?" Vage stood taller, spreading his arms out a little, tilting his head. The man puffed air though his lips.

“Fine by me, asshole," he stated as he held up his hands in mock defense and walked off, as did his friend.

“Good thing I saw you," Vage stated as he stood at the bar counter next to me. I took off my ushanka and set it on the table. “Are deer allowed in here?" He shouted to the bartender.

“Business is business," the man shrugged, walking over with my shot of whisky.

“How did you see me," I asked, grabbing the glass.

“Well I know what that's for, let's say that," he replied with a surprising level of fraternity. I took the shot. It was strong – I held down a cough.

“One more please." I waved down the bartender, who refilled my glass. I grabbed it but did not yet take the shot.

“How much money did you give her," Vage asked, not in any sort of scolding tone, but in one of genuine, nonjudgmental interest.

“One thousand, I think," I replied, sighing.

“I'm sorry, mate," he shrugged. “These things happen."

“Not to me," I returned. I began to raise the glass to take another shot, but Vage stopped my hand, forcing it back down gently.

“I'm guessing you're an alcoholic like most of us," he stated in a cautioning voice, referring to those who ran in our sorts of circles in general. “So I hope you don't mind if I hold you to two shots tonight." I chuckled, more out of self-pity rather than actual humor.

“You catch on fast."

“Listen, mate, we still have a job to do tomorrow." And there was the scolding, only he didn't say it in a scolding tone – he was being surprisingly friendly to me at the moment, or maybe I just rarely interacted with him in any sort of casual setting. Come to think of it, though, there had actually been more than a few instances in which I had witnessed Vage behave like this. He was surprisingly capable of shifting between his all-business and regular-guy selves.

“You're right," I sighed as I nodded. “I still need to find something for Novka."

“Don't worry about it," Vage stated. “I already did."

“What? So soon?"

“Some mate just happened to see me on the street and offer me passage East – I guess I must look like a refugee," Vage shrugged. “I let him describe it to me, and it seems pretty legitimate – there's no condition we have to meet that would allow him to screw us over if this opportunity doesn't actually exist. He said that, if we need it tomorrow, there'll be few carriages waiting near the edge of the city. We can meet him there, and pay there."

“Not bad," I agreed. “Do we have the money for it?"

“We do, but most people won't," Vage cleared his throat. “It makes for the perfect back-up plan."

“To our back-up plan," I added, raising my glass. He chuckled.

“Jeez, I didn't think I'd ever wind up on a job like this," he muttered, folding his arms across the counter. “But I guess money really will make you do anything."

“Are you that in need?" He looked at me with an amused expression in reply.

“I don't care how low the morals of a job are," he stated, adjusting his elbows upon the counter. “I need the money. I'm not fit for any other work."

“Not fit or not good at it?"

“Both," he chuckled. “Besides, I much prefer this line of business; much more exciting, you know."

“Now you're starting to sound like Forticay." My stomach began to twist. I set the shot glass down and reached into my pocket for my pill bottle.

“You can take those with alcohol?" I reaffirmed my grip on the glass full of whisky, which was still full, and slid it across the counter to Vage.

“Despite what you may think, alcoholism is one of the few demons I've actually managed to slay," I stated, unscrewing the pill bottle.

“I'm guessing you don't need that for the wound," Vage observed with a raise of the eyebrow. I nodded, pursing my lips.

“The doctors say it's psychological," I finally admitted.

“When will it stop?" He seemed genuinely curious. I shrugged.

“Can't say…Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never…Cheers." I threw the bottle back as if it were a shot glass, only allowing one of the little white tablets to enter my mouth.

“Is that stuff expensive?"

“Unfortunately," I choked as I screwed the metal cap back on. “It's sold pretty much everywhere, but I haven't been able to replenish it in a while. I'll need some more soon."

“Well, if we can do this job, you'll be able to buy it for a while…That is if your luck doesn't catch up with us," he added, slyly.

“What do you mean, 'my luck?'"

“Mate, you nearly had a panic attack on the front lines, and you drenched your boot on your way here," he exclaimed. “Not to mention, based off what I know, I believe this is the second time in a row you've almost been killed in a bar." He took the shot. I shrugged, giving my head a sideways nod.

“And yet, here I am." I looked around – more and more people were starting to stare at us. These were definitely locals. “We should leave."

“That's fair," Vage stated, pushing himself off from the counter as I left a single paper note for the bartender. “If Martin did get us those tickets, I'd imagine the train would leave fairly early tomorrow." I grabbed my hat and we walked out of the bar together, into the cold, freezing night.

---

The hotel room was large – the majority of it was composed of a spacious common area with a high ceiling and long, vertical windows on the far wall that faced the street. It was expensive, but ultimately was the only room available, and we couldn't risk cold by sleeping on the streets; plus; who knew what would happen if we checked into one of the smaller, danker inns that was housing the countless refugees fleeing the war. Besides, Martin seemed very pleased that this should be our room. When me and Vage returned from the bar, he was sitting in one of the large armchairs in the center of the common area, a glass of some dark liquor in his hand. Vage went straight out to the balcony, where Novka was standing, gazing out at the street, presumably to inform her about the alternative departure plan he had discovered. I was not ready to go to bed just yet, however, so rather than going to the room I shared with Forticay that sat behind the closed white door at the side of the spacious accommodation, I decided to join Martin in the sitting area. It couldn't hurt, at least, even if he wasn't the most entertaining fellow to be around.

The room was dim. The light of the dying fire in the large, stone fireplace was the only thing that illuminated any of our surroundings, and largely inadequately, as well. But, at least it was relatively warm. I removed my coat and hat, taking my cigarette case from the coat pockets and sitting down in a large, pinkish chair across from Martin. He was staring down at the floor to his left, clearly lost in thought, the glass held absentmindedly in his hand as it rested upon the armrest of the brightly-colored chair.

“We head out tomorrow early in the morning," he stated suddenly, without altering his gaze. So he had seen me. I lit my cigarette.

“You got the tickets?" He finally looked up.

“Not the easiest affair," he replied. “Or the least expensive."

“How many others were there?"

“A lot." He took a sip from his cylindrical glass. “Many people were at the platform trying to book passage…But, I'm a human, so they let me to the front of the line."

“Egh," I grunted with disgust. “Makes Henlot look like a bloody paradise." We sat in silence for a few more moments. Something in the fire popped and the wood shifted with a light, sifting sound.

“You seem glum," Martin finally observed after another sip of alcohol.

“Uh, yeah," I nodded.

“What for?" I was silent, at first.

“I don't know," I replied, crossing my legs and placing my chin into my hand, twisting myself in the chair quite a bit to do so. I stared out through the high windows that led to the stone balcony. Vage and Novka looked to be finishing up their conversation. It was hard to tell, but I could have sworn that Vage pointed in my direction, Novka nodding. I turned back around in my chair – I wasn't going to overthink this one.

“So, shell shock, was it?" Martin raised his glass, as if to toast, but instead merely took a sip.

“Afraid so."

“How long did that take?" I thought for a moment.

“I made it longer than most who succumb," I stated with a nod of my head to the side. “Half a year, at least, before things started getting to me." I heaved with pursed lips, making it abundantly clear that I was in miserable spirits. “Some people were never touched by it: amazed me as much as it terrified me, how some people could simply push through everything and still be smiling days later…For me it was on and off, and only got worse after I was discharged."

“But you're over it now?"

“Mostly." I wasn't sure why he was so curious about this, but they were harmless questions, so I didn't say anything.

“Why did it take so long for you to develop it?" He tilted his head slightly, glancing up at me again. I nodded, pursing my lips as I glanced around the room.

“I think I saw enough bad things in Estlovan alone to desensitize me to what I saw out there," I finally replied.

“In Henlot? Hm, you must have had a rough time, then," he raised his eyebrows as he took another sip, almost finishing his glass. “But," he began, with new vigor. “Nobody ever sees the backstory," he finished his glass, throwing it back and swallowing the rest, before he placed it down onto the small table beside the chair and stood up, bringing his hands to his head and removing the mask. “All they see are the scars," he smiled ironically, the fire illuminating only the good part of his face, and little bits and pieces of the other side. “Mind or body," he continued, walking towards the door in the center of the wall that he had been facing away from, which led to the room he shared with Vage. “We all sacrifice something to find ourselves in a worse place. Goodnight, Tovef," he ended as he pushed through the door, closing it gently behind him. I sat in silence for a few minutes, until Vage opened the paned-glass doors to the balcony and walked across the room, not even noticing me (the fire was behind my chair, enshrouding me completely in shadow) as he made his way through the same door that Martin had disappeared through only a few moments earlier. I looked over to the balcony – Novka was still standing out there, her coat on, staring out over the tiled roofs of the buildings across from us and into the dark sky. I realized that I should probably go say something to her to readdress our quarrel from earlier, and with a sigh I snuffed out my cigarette on the table next to me and brought myself to my feet, making my way to the balcony.

She did not turn around as I opened the door. The night was cool and crisp, and not a gust of wind pierced the air. I walked up to the thick stone balcony railing and stared out at the street, clasping my hands as I leaned my arms against the edge. Novka did not even seem to acknowledge me. I didn't know what to say. I scratched behind my head, looking around…I wasn't wearing my coat, of course, so it was rather chilly for me. I lit another cigarette and began to smoke, the warm flame lighting up the space for a moment.

“You know that's a bad habit," Novka finally stated, still gazing up at the dark, bottomless sky.

“Eh," I nodded my head to the side. “We're all here, somehow." She turned to me, one hand on the railing.

“Are you not cold?"

“I am a little cold," I shrugged. “But I've experienced colder." I sighed. “Just imagine this but ten times colder, and in a soggy trench, and you've got the right idea," I chuckled. Novka did not react – I worried that the joke had somehow been offensive, for whatever reason. “I'm sorry, for earlier," I finally stated, wanting to get things on the right track again, and in the mood to be more sympathetic, having felt that way ever since I had walked into the bar. The silence was all-consuming.

“You know I don't hate you, Tovef," she stated as she turned again to the street. I didn't know how to respond to that. The sounds of the artillery rumbled lowly in the distance.

“I know," was all I replied. I actually had not been entirely sure of that, but I accepted it as if it were nothing.

“I find that strict attentiveness has gotten me this far," she continued, still gazing off into the distance. “Yet there is always something unexpected that comes up and threatens to throw it off." I wasn't sure if she was talking about me or not, so I decided to be frank.

“I can assure you that I am not that person," I stated with a shrug. Novka actually chuckled.

“No, you're not," she conceded. “At least not yet – no one can truly be trusted in this line of work, now can they?"

“It's not just this line of work, is it?" I turned to look at her.

“How do you mean?"

“Well, surely you felt the same when you were an ambassador." She drew a in large breath, finally letting out a dramatic exhale.

“It is an unholy trade," she admitted. “Lying, exaggerating, and bargaining behind closed doors." She turned her head to look at me, walking closer as she spoke. “In many ways no different than this one." She paused, stopping and turning out to look out at the street once again. “And I suppose that what happened to me in that position was nothing that wouldn't have happened to anyone else at some point or another – everyone gets tossed to the ground eventually, no matter how high they stand. It all depends on what they do next that defines them."

“And you chose this?" I said this with no hostility, but rather with polite, genuine curiosity. She nodded.

“Part of me felt disgusted for participating in the system in the first place," she stated. “I'm not sure whether I was more of a criminal before or after I turned to this life." She smiled a little at her joke. “But it was still a strong blow." We paused, listening to the silence.

“So why do you dislike humans so much," I asked. “If you think that such an outcome would have been inevitable, then why the suspicion?" She sighed, staring straight ahead and not answering me at first.

“I don't dislike humans," she finally stated. “And I realize that given my frequency of voicing my frustration in very direct terms I have likely given of the opposite impression. But," she continued. “Some people are statistically more likely to either commit a wrong or stay silent when one is committed when they are ignorant of the burdens that others face."

“Dragonborn aren't," I shrugged. She turned to me with a quizzical expression. “Forticay," I clarified.

“Oh, I don't have anything against the fact that he's dragonborn," she chuckled. “I just think he's eccentric."

“I can't argue with that," I sighed, leaning upon the balcony once again and letting the burning stub of my cigarette fall to the ground far below us. I followed the little glowing orange dot with my eyes until I could see it no longer.

“Is he distracting you?"

“Sorry." I realized what she meant. “Oh, no," I stated.

“So you're not interested in him?"

“I…I mean, I think he's a great person," I shrugged. “But he-"

“He's not that prostitute girl, is he?" I looked at her, somewhat stunned, though my expression was more one of confusion. “Forgive me," she continued. “I'm more observant than you give me credit for." I sighed, looking back out at the street. “I've seen a lot of things in this job, and I know more than you think, despite my high upbringings. Don't let these things distract you – we have a job to do." I sighed, placing an elbow upon the railing as I turned to her, thrusting my other hand into my pocket.

“The job is one thing…Sixty-five thousand salir is what will keep me interested." She smiled as I gazed back out to the street one last time.

“Better get some rest." She turned, and walked inside. I followed – I was freezing.

---

Footnotes:

1. In keeping with the quasi-Great-War era setting for much of this novel, I decided to stick with the contemporary terminology wherever it seemed relevant.

2. Another nod to a work of literature that has inspired a section of this book, this little scene with the couple by the cart in gesture to a loosely-similar one in Soldier X, by Don L. Wulffson. I read it some time ago (back in 2016, I believe), but it was certainly one of the more memorable young-adult war/romance novels that I have ever encountered.

3. I seem to be balancing a lot between common names and pronunciations in English, German, and Russian, which I admit may be a bit sloppy. What, for instance, does a town named Koflovskaya have doing in a country called Holtzenstine, after all? I honestly think that I just simply like the aesthetic and cultural associations of all three languages. In this instance, "Aust" is supposed to be pronounced almost like "oust," just as "Austria" is pronounced as "ous-tree-ah" in some languages and dialects.

4. Although very little of it is actually included in this novel, the history and lore of this universe I have invested way too much time and thought into constructing...Hopefully I will have the opportunity to explore it more in other stories.

5. This is only Chapter Six, but I have been working on editing this book for a month, now, and it felt a lot longer to me as I was writing it...Nothing could ever be too abrupt.