The Legends of Altera Vita

"Can you walk?" Belisarius asked Jon, offering his arm for support. The former slave nodded, though his legs shook as he stood.

"I managed worse during the forced marches," Jon said quietly. The words hung heavy in the cold air, and Kael's usual grin faltered for a moment.

Thenn took point, his keen eyes scanning the darkness ahead while Kira brought up the rear. Even exhausted, they maintained their formation out of habit. Kael stuck close to Jon, filling the silence with an endless stream of chatter that seemed to both confuse and comfort their rescued companion.

"...and that's why you should never trust a merchant who claims their cheese doesn't need refrigeration," Kael concluded one particularly lengthy tale. "Though I suppose that's not terribly relevant to your situation. Sorry, I tend to ramble when I'm tired or bleeding. Or both, in this case."

"Both," Belisarius confirmed dryly. "Definitely both."

The trek back to their main camp took longer than usual, their pace slowed by injuries and fatigue. The stars wheeled overhead, and the cold only grew deeper as they picked their way through the darkness. Ikit remained in front of Belisarius, in view the whole time, which was very unnatural. The ratman must have realized how dire the situation was, and by allowing himself to be seen was boosting morale.

Finally, the warm glow of a campfire pierced the darkness ahead. Thenn gave a low whistle, their signal, and received an answering call moments later.

"Thank the gods," Kira muttered. "I was starting to think we'd gotten turned around."

The camp came into view, a collection of well-hidden tents nestled in a natural depression. Several scouts stood ready, only lowering their weapons when they recognized the returning party.

The warmth of the campfire beckoned them forward as they stumbled into the clearing. Before anyone else could react, a massive figure rushed toward them, Daeva, his dragon-like features caught in the firelight as he moved with surprising grace for his size.

"By the divine!" The Dragonkin's scales gleamed with a fiery sheen as he approached. "You all look like you've been dragged behind a horse. Through thorns. In a storm." His voice rumbled with concern despite the humorous words.

From their position near the main fire, Targeld and Rockfist burst into laughter as they listened to Daeva, the sound echoing through the camp.

Belisarius felt his shoulders finally sag, the tension of the past hours bleeding away in the familiar atmosphere of camp. "Feels about right," he managed, swaying slightly. "You should see the other guys."

"Dead, I hope?" The quiet voice came from behind them as Stillwater emerged from her tent, Shadow following behind her.

"Very," Thenn confirmed. "Full patrol of Iceforged. Small clan, thankfully. We found their slave train." He gestured to Jon, who seemed to shrink under the sudden attention.

Stillwater's expression softened slightly. "Welcome to our camp, friend." She turned to the others. "Corporal Horse, you and Zazz see to their wounds. Properly this time, not whatever battlefield medicine they've attempted."

"My battlefield medicine is perfectly adequate," Belisarius protested, though he was already moving toward the fire where Corporal Horse waited with his supplies.

"Your battlefield medicine," Stillwater countered, already pulling supplies from her kit, "is what we healers call 'barely better than nothing.' Sit down before you fall down, all of you."

The group settled around the fire, accepting bowls of steaming soup that Shadow somehow produced from nowhere, apparently receiving help from Ikit. Daeva moved between them with surprising gentleness for one his size, examining injuries and gasping at ones that were particularly bad. Jon watched it all, clutching his bowl with trembling hands, his eyes darting between the varied members of the group, from Daeva's draconic features to Corporal Horse, the talking Horse.

"The others," Jon suddenly spoke up, his voice cracking. "The other slaves who ran. Should we..."

Daeva paused in his ministrations, his expression grave. "In this weather, at night, running off into the forest, we won't even be able to see their footprints tomorrow morning." His massive hand settled gently on Jon's shoulder. "I'm sorry, friend. But at least you're safe here."

"Safe is a relative term when you're with us," Kael added helpfully, earning a look from Zazz as he tried to examine a cut on the scout's shoulder. "But relatively safe, certainly. Safer than being enslaved by ice-loving barbarians, at any rate."

"Kael," Belisarius said, his voice carried a warning tone.

"Right, right. Shutting up now. Healing time. Very serious business."

Zazz's hands glided around as he worked on Kael's wound, his expression unreadable through his metallic form. "I believe Serenith blessed your race to be exceptionally well versed with healing magic, Kael," he observed mildly. "When can I expect to be relieved of my temporary assignment?"

"Ah, well..." Kael shifted uncomfortably, wincing as the movement pulled at his injury. "I was never a very good student when it came to books and spells. I do love history though, that's why I'm our Artifacts guy."

"We've noticed," Daeva deadpanned as he observed Belisarius's wounds. "Perhaps if you spent less time practicing your witty battlefield banter and more time studying..."

"But then who would provide the entertainment?" Kael protested. "Can't have a proper mercenary band without someone to keep morale up!"

"Is he always like this?" Jon whispered to Thenn, who had settled nearby.

"No," Thenn replied solemnly. "Sometimes he's worse."

The tension continued to bleed from the group as they bantered, even Jon beginning to relax as Corporal Horse shared quiet words with him. The fire crackled merrily, sending sparks dancing toward the star-filled sky, while the sharp scent of healing herbs mixed with wood smoke.

Targeld moved closer, his skin catching the firelight. "So, tell us about these Iceforged. Good fight?"

"Better than good," Kira spoke up, accepting a fresh bandage from Zazz. "You should have seen Kael and Thenn. Moved like they were dancing."

"A very lethal dance," Rockfist rumbled appreciatively.

"Speaking of lethal," Shadow spoke for the first time, his voice barely above a whisper, "Kira, we should consider moving camp. If any of those escaped slaves are captured..."

Kira nodded, her expression grim. "Agreed. We'll break camp at first light. For now..." She looked over her battered scouts with what might have been pride. "For now, rest. You've earned it."

"And tomorrow?" Belisarius asked, already feeling sleep tugging at him.

"Tomorrow we do it all again," Stillwater replied simply. "It's what we do."

Belisarius nodded, letting his eyes drift closed as the familiar sounds of the camp washed over him, quiet conversations, the clink of weapons being maintained, muttering about "reckless scouts" as he worked. They'd survived another day, rescued at least one soul from a fate worse than death, and even managed to weaken the Iceforged's hold on the region.

-----

Morning came too soon, the pale light filtering through bare branches as the camp stirred to life. Belisarius woke to the smell of tea and the sound of Rockfist complaining about the cold, a daily ritual at this point.

"I swear the temperature drops another degree every morning," the large warrior grumbled, huddled close to the rekindled fire. "How do you people manage it?"

"Layers," Kira replied dryly, already packing her gear with mechanical efficiency. "And spite."

The camp dissolved into organized chaos as they broke down tents and prepared for travel. Jon pitched in where he could, though his movements were still uncertain, keeping close to Corporal Horse who had taken the former slave under his wing.

"Eat," Daeva instructed, pressing a bowl of hot porridge into Belisarius's hands. The Dragonkin's scales had a dull sheen in the morning light, his breath visibly steaming. "Zazz says your body needs the energy to finish healing."

"Speaking of healing," Kira's voice carried across the camp, "status report on our wounded?"

"Well enough to travel," Stillwater responded, checking the bandages on Thenn's arm. "Though I'd prefer if certain individuals," he shot a pointed look at Kael, "would stop reopening their wounds by demonstrating how they performed their 'amazing feats of heroism' from last night."

Kael, in the middle of an animated reenactment for Targeld and Rockfist, had the grace to look sheepish. "In my defense, it was a very impressive move."

"Impressive will mean nothing if you bleed to death," Shadow remarked quietly. "Save your strength. We have a long journey ahead."

"Mmm." Said Kira, "We're turning back, with these injuries it would be life threatening if we ran into another Iceforged clan. The other two scouting parties can handle themselves well enough, even without us spearheading the Viperkin."

Daeva nodded, surveying their group with calculating eyes. "Three days back to Arendale, if we push hard. Four if we're cautious."

"Four," Belisarius voted immediately. "These wounds need time to properly heal, and we don't know if there are more Iceforged in the area."

"Agreed," Shadow added. "Better to arrive late than not at all."

The morning progressed steadily, gear being packed away with practiced efficiency. Jon watched it all with growing amazement, particularly when Rockfist casually lifted an entire supply crate that would have taken three normal men to move.

"Is everyone in your group so... unique?" he asked Belisarius as they worked.

"More or less," Belisarius replied, checking his weapons one last time. "We aren't all together, but it seems I have a knack for finding unusual people. Though I think Kael might be one of a kind, thank the Deities."

"I heard that!" Kael called from across the camp.

As the sun climbed higher, the last traces of camp disappeared, leaving only trampled snow and extinguished fire pits. Kira gathered them all for a final check, her eyes scanning the horizon.

"Standard formation," she ordered. "Targeld and Rockfist on point. Shadow, scout ahead when you can. Kael, Thenn, watch our flanks but don't strain yourselves. Daeva and Horse, keep an eye on our wounded. Jon, stay close to the center with Zazz. The rest of you spread out and watch our surroundings"

"And you?" Stillwater asked, though they all knew the answer.

"I'll be everywhere," she replied with a faint smile. "Me and Belisarius. Someone has to keep you lot in line."

They set out under the winter sun, their breath frosting in the air as they turned south toward Arendale. The forest was quiet around them, broken only by the crunch of snow under boots and the occasional comment from Kael that earned him synchronized sighs from the entire group.

"You know," Kael mused as they walked, "I've been thinking-"

"Always dangerous," Thenn muttered.

"We'd be better off with Targeld thinking." Daeva chipped in.

"-about writing a book about our adventures. 'Tales of the Most Extraordinary Scout Party in the Realm: Volume One.' I think the ladies would love to see how brave and heroic I am."

"Bold of you to assume anyone would read volume one," Kira commented.

"Bold of you to assume he can write," Belisarius added from beside her.

The banter continued as they marched, a comfortable rhythm that helped ease the tension of their wounds and the watchfulness required in these dangerous lands. Jon, Belisarius noticed, was even beginning to smile at some of the exchanges.

They were an odd group, certainly. A mix of races and personalities that shouldn't work together but somehow did. As they made their way south, Belisarius found himself grateful for that oddness. In these times, it was good to have family, even if they were a family bound by choice rather than blood.

And if that family happened to include a Dragonkin, two walking tanks, a shadow-walking rat, and the most lecherous Diu Elf in existence... well, that just made life more interesting.

The road to Arendale stretched ahead, and somewhere behind them, winter descended on their abandoned camp, erasing all traces that they had ever been there.

-----

Four days of hard travel melted away, and the massive black walls of Arendale finally rose before them. The city's famous magical barrier shimmered in the afternoon light, a faint iridescent dome that kept the northern cold at bay. Even from a distance, they could feel the temperature rising as they approached.

"Finally," Kael sighed dramatically. "I can feel my toes again. Whoever came up with that barrier spell deserves all the gold in the realm."

"All of it?" Thenn raised an eyebrow. "That's quite generous of you."

"Well, maybe not all of it. A man needs some coin for wine and women... and the occasional weapon repair."

The guard at the North Gate straightened as they approached, recognition flickering across his face. "Crimson Blades!" he called out, his voice carrying along the battlements. "Open up!"

As they passed through the barrier, the change was immediate and welcome. The bitter cold fell away, replaced by the perpetual spring-like warmth that Arendale was famous for. Snow melted off their cloaks, dripping onto the pristine streets.

"Right," Kira addressed the group, her voice carrying the weight of command despite her evident exhaustion. Her armor, still bearing the marks of their recent battles, gleamed dully in the warmer light. "We report to camp first. I'll be going to Commander Alessandra, she'll want to know about the Iceforged situation immediately." She turned to Jon, who was staring open-mouthed at the barrier above, his eyes reflecting the iridescent shimmer.

"Do you have anywhere to go, Jon?" Kira asked, her tone gentler than usual.

Startled from his reverie, Jon shook his head, shoulders slumping. "No, everyone I knew was taken by the barbarians. I have nothing left." The words hung heavy in the warm air.

Targeld looked at Belisarius, and despite his impressive size and warrior's bearing, managed to perfect the expression of a pleading puppy. His lip even quivered for effect.

Belisarius sighed, fighting back a smile. "Fine, Targeld. Do whatever you want."

"Thanks boss! You're the best!" The large barbarian's face split into a broad grin as he turned to Jon. "Come on, lad. Let's find you some proper clothes and a hot meal. The others can handle the boring reports." He clapped Jon on the shoulder with a hand the size of a dinner plate.

"I... thank you," Jon managed, still glancing around in wonderment at the city where winter never touched. "All of you."

"Don't thank us yet," Targeld chuckled, steering him toward the marketplace. "Wait until you see what we put recruits through. Altera Vita is the greatest mercenary band in the Imperium for a reason."

As Targeld and Jon disappeared into the crowd, the rest of the party continued through the city's winding streets toward the Crimson Blades camp. The afternoon sun cast long shadows between the buildings, and the usual bustle of city life moved around them like a river around stones.

"Bath," Kira announced as they approached camp. "After the report, I'm spending at least an hour in hot water."

"Is that an order?" asked Stillwater with a smirk.

"Yes, actually. You all smell like a week in the wilds. Which, to be fair, is accurate."

"I'll have you know this is a carefully cultivated warrior's musk," Kael protested.

"The only thing you're cultivating is new forms of fungus," Kira rumbled.

The Crimson Blades' camp finally came into view, a sprawling collection of tents arranged in practiced precision. Many bore the proud emblem of their mercenary band, the fabric rippling in the warm breeze. Soldiers moved about with purpose, and the smell of cooking fires filled the air.

"Home sweet home," Thenn murmured as they entered. 

-----

Commander Alessandra's tent was larger than most, as befitted her rank, but still maintained the practical sensibility of a career soldier. Maps covered most surfaces, weighted down with daggers and various tokens marking troop movements. The Commander herself stood over the largest table, her scarred hands braced against its edges as she studied the northern territories. Two Crimson Guard stood watch resolutely on either side of her.

She didn't look up as Kira entered. "You found them."

Not a question. Kira moved to stand opposite her commander. "We encountered two different tribes, both well beyond their usual territory. They're-"

"Building something," Alessandra finished, placing a marker on the map without looking. It matched their northernmost encounter exactly.

"They had slaves from the surrounding villages," Kira continued. "I originally assumed they would only use them for labor, but chances are they got information about-"

"Our defenses." Alessandra placed another marker. "Supply lines." A third marker. "Patrol patterns."

Kira studied the map, noting several other markers in areas they hadn't explored. "Commander, how did you-"

"The weapons were better." Again, not a question.

"Yes. Standardized. I noticed that even the far off clans bear the sigil of Frostbane."

Alessandra's finger tapped one of the unexplored markers. "The Aspect is uniting them, its no surprise they've managed to do something like that."

"We rescued one slave," Kira offered. "Targeld's taken him in-"

"Of course he has." The ghost of a smile touched Alessandra's face. "Three days. Then you head north again."

"Understood." Kira turned to leave.

"Kira."

"Commander?"

"Watch the merchants." Alessandra's eyes fixed on her. "And take a bath."

Kira left the tent with more questions than answers, but she'd served under Alessandra long enough to know that was usually the point. The Commander never said more than she had to, but every word carried weight.

Alone now, Alessandra sighed heavily and sank into her chair, the weight of command settling on her shoulders like a physical thing. She reached for the bottle of northern whiskey she kept for moments like these, then thought better of it. She needed a clear head.

"That damned Grandmaster," she muttered to herself, voice carrying years of complicated history. "Of all the times to need his help..." The words tasted bitter in her mouth, like admitting defeat.

Then, suddenly, her expression shifted. A smile played at the corner of her mouth as she played with a ring on her finger—the emblem on it a black crescent moon.

"Ah," she breathed, sitting straighter. "So that's why the Reliquary sent him here." Her finger traced the edge of the map thoughtfully. "Baron Belisarius... intriguing."

She stood, moving to adjust one of the markers on her map with new purpose. Perhaps this game wasn't quite what it appeared to be after all.