Dante hit the ground running that morning. He woke when the first rays of the sun breached the horizon to find Svōl half-draped over him. The man stunk of sour alcohol and sweat. Dante was not careful as he pushed him aside, grunting as the man proved heavier than expected. There was a hollow thud as Svōl’s head struck the ground, and Dante froze as he waited for an outburst. Incredibly, Svōl just grumbled and turned over to use a beefy arm as a pillow. Dante did not want to try his luck any further, so he gathered his things and left.


    The feel of the camp was different. The tension had ratched up from the previous night to a dangerous simmer. All around soldiers were taking grindstone to blades or tying on armor. The roads were so packed that he had trouble seeing his carefully noted landmarks or even pulling out his map at all. It took longer than he liked to find the market.


    He was not the only one who waited until the last minute to buy equipment. The place was the most packed he had seen yet. Dante wasted no time and waded into the crowd. It was easy enough to find a crossbow, though it was dissimilar to the one he had been practicing with. It was much heavier for one and had greater draw strength. Given the calibre of enemies he was shortly going to face, he needed all the firepower he could get. Though, he was likely to miss his first few shots. Dante dearly wished he could practice with it.


    He was about to leave when the shopkeep, an elderly woman with leathery skin that looked as if it had seen a lifetime of sun named Risma, tugged at his sleeve. When he turned to look at her, she presented him with a wooden box. Risma opened it to reveal three crossbow bolts. It was obvious they were not ordinary, given that they were made of a silvery blue metal and had runes carved along the shaft. Each had a colored band near the fletching. One red, one green, and one blue.


    “I apologize if I am wrong sir, but you don’t have the look of an experienced marksman.”


    Dante grimaced and scratched the back of his neck. The crossbow''s latching mechanism had been different, and he had to ask how it worked. Apparently, that was enough to give him away.


    “No, you are quite right. I presume that these,” he gestured to the bolts, “Are a solution to that.”


    “I thought so. No soldier worth their salt would venture into the battlefield with unenchanted bolts. While nothing is a substitute for experience and abilities, these are the next best thing. Enchanted and manufactured by Teserno from the capitol. With them, you will at least be able to kill a low rank or injure a medium one.”


    “This,” she tapped the red one, “will always hit its target, as long as you are aiming in the correct direction.”


    Her finger moved over the green.


    “This will penetrate anything short of a defensive specialist.”


    The finger continued its journey to its conclusion.


    “This last one, don’t get too close to it. I hope you are not afraid of fire.”


    Risma was right. He needed trump cards. When he had fought his first Ahsmati, his crossbow shot hadn’t injured as much as surprised.


    “How much for them?” He asked, dreading the answer.


    “Hmm, to save the life of one as young as you? Let’s say three silver and ten bronze.”


    That was … more expensive than he wanted but not as much as he had dreaded. Along with the crossbow, that would eat up about a third of his funds. And he had not purchased the potion yet.


    “You are generous, but I can’t afford that. What about two silver?”


    Dante had learned his lesson thoroughly about giving a first counteroffer that was a reasonable price. It seemed like it was expected to start low and find the mid-point when bartering. Some people seemed to straight out enjoy it. He can’t say that he liked this song and dance, but he was getting used to it.


    “I may feel sorrow for you, but I have a business to run. If I sold all my wares at such prices, I would be penniless and on the street. At my age, that’s a death sentence. How about three silver and three bronze?”


    And on it went. Dante didn’t want to waste too much time, so he was forced to hurry. He likely got a worse deal because of it, but he didn’t want to be caught out when it was time to assemble. He managed to get ahold of the bolts and crossbow for a bit under a third of his combined funds.


    “Pleasure doing business with you! If you need a restock or other supplies, please find me again!”


    “If I live, I will Risma. Take care.”


    With that, Dante hurried off. The market was beginning to clear and he did not have a good feeling about that. He needed to find this potion fast.


    Now, what would a potion shop look like?


    After a while of bumbling around, in which he found a wine shop, a dye, and even a poisons shop — he was glad he did not mistake that last one for a healing potion — he managed to find what he was looking for. He swallowed as he gazed at the most impressive shop yet. It was an actual building for one, something even the army didn’t build. Whilst simple in appearance, its craftsmanship was impeccable. He wondered idly how it was transported there. Probably magic of some sort.


    Entering it, he found the interior equally noteworthy. There was not a speck of dust to be found. He felt very out of place with his battle-worn clothes. Standing behind the counter, was a man who was dressed impeccably. It reminded him of the princess and her entourage.


    “Welcome! I am Nauer Uain. How may the Navenaur Srunvah help you?”


    “What’s a srunvah?”


    The change in the man''s demeanor was immediate. His lip curled and he titled his head to an almost comical degree to look down his nose at him. Dante had encountered a few who looked down on him and his obvious foreign ways, but nothing like this.


    “A Srunvah, outlander, is a brotherhood of merchants. For a small nominal fee, we offer protection and numerous other benefits.” Nauer made ‘outlanderr’ sound like a slur. Dante would have left right then if something about that description hadn’t jogged his memory.


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    Is he talking about a guild? I remember hearing something about that from fantasy novels. If I remember this correctly, they can be quite nasty. They do things like collude to raise prices or punish merchants who go against the grain. I need to step carefully here.


    Doing his best to hide his displeasure, Dante smiled and said: “Ah, I see. My people have a different word for it. Forgive me, I am new to these lands. Thanks for enlightening me.”


    “See that you do not forget it. Now, can I help you, or are you here to see what your betters can afford?”


    Patience.


    “I wouldn’t dream of wasting your time. I am here to buy a healing potion. I have the coin for it.”


    Having said so, he took his full coin purse and plopped it on the counter. It made a satisfying jangle. The change in Nauer’s bearing was immediate. The man straightened, his expression grew less disgusted, and he adjusted his collar.


    “Apologies, you don’t know what kind of riffraff finds its way in here. Now, what exactly did you say you wanted?”


    “Just a basic healing potion, please.”


    “Of course, if you would give me a moment.”


    Nauer began rummaging around underneath the counter and brought a philter that was identical to Sūnva’s. It was constructed out of metal rather than the glass that he had seen in games. A welcome change in his opinion, given how fragile glass was.


    “You are in luck, this is among the last of our stock. They are quite popular at the moment, for obvious reasons. It can be yours for one Sanen.”


    One what? Given the context I am guessing that this is the level of currency above silver. I hope. I have no idea what the upper limit is. I guess all I can do is …


    He untied the drawstrings of the coin purse and spilled its contents over the desk.


    “This is all I have. Take it or leave it.”


    Nauer glanced at the coins and some of his earlier disdain crept back.


    “This is only five silver and seventeen bronze. A mere fraction of the price. That you have made such an offer is an insult to our establishment. You will need to make a better offer.”


    He could see that at a glance? A skill perhaps. Shit, I probably should have come here first. I knew these things were expensive, and yet I had to stop for the crossbow. Sure it was nice, but these potions can be the difference between life or death. I guess all I can do is stand my ground and cut my losses.


    “I don’t know what else to say. That is my best and only offer.”


    Before either of them could say anything else, a tolling sound echoed through the camp. It rang two more times before falling silent. Dante had never heard that sound before, but it seemed important. Wary, he shifted until he could peek out of the window of the shop. Outside, soldiers all streamed in one direction.


    It was time.


    Taking a heavy sigh, Dante began to gather the coins back in the pouch. It was time to accept that this deal wasn’t happening. At least he wouldn’t be as in debt to Sūnva.


    “Are you really leaving? In the middle of our deal? How disrespectful.”


    Dante just shrugged and walked towards the door. He made it about ten steps before Nauer called after him.


    “Alright! I’ll take your money! But, next time you shop here, we will add the difference to your next purchase.”


    Dante considered that for a second. Though this would effectively cut him off from ever buying a potion again himself. It would be difficult enough getting the money for the base potion without these additional fees. However, couldn’t he have someone else buy it for him? It almost felt like the merchant was just trying to save face. Whatever. As long as he had the potion.


    “Alright, I’ll accept that offer.”


    He placed the purse into Nauer’s waiting hand and accepted his prize. Frustratingly, the man wanted him to sign some paperwork, which Dante demanded Nauer read to him. It took longer then he liked and he had the man reread sections to see if he was making things up. By the time they had concluded that business, the crowd outside had thinned considerably. He had no time to worry about that however and hurried out the door.


    It seems like walking away is a good strategy in negotiation.


    As he joined his fellow soldiers, it hit him that this was happening. His gut dropped and he struggled to keep his breaths under control. If he went with them, there was a fair chance he was marching towards death. Or worse.


    He did not want to go. Something inside him screamed to flee. To take a chance to avoid a violent end that awaited him on the battlefield. It didn’t matter to thing clawing inside of chest that he had no plan and would stand out like a sore thumb. That the penalty for desertion would also be death. Fear did not care about things like that.


    He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Trapped. However, fleeing would mean abandoning his only connections in the world. He had grown close to Sūnva and Pauwna. Especially Pauwna, he thought they might even be friends. While he had only gotten to know those two as well. The others had done him small kindness as well. He owed debts to them all.


    They were decent enough people. Leaving them also twisted his gut. It might be some sick form of Stockholm syndrome, but it didn’t weaken the strength of those feelings.


    So, he chose the path of inaction and let himself get swept up in the flow. Taking a moment to orientate himself, he realized that they were moving in the direction opposite the front. A direction that he had not had a chance to map yet. Which brought to mind something he had been wondering about.


    How were they going to get there?


    He had been picturing a march but that was looking less and less likely. Perhaps they had some sort of alternative travel method? Maybe some form of vehicle.


    The answer was not immediately obvious when they left the camp proper. It was difficult to see much of anything, as the brittle bone white grass had been stamped down, causing a fine white dust to pervade the air. He could see that groups were splitting to join loose congregations. Officers stood by the stream of people, shouting directions. Which were all words he did not know and meant nothing to him.


    Does my unit have a name? If so, no one saw fit to tell me. Guess I am going to have to take an educated guess.


    Much like on the practice field, the groupings could be split into two broad categories. The ones who had matching equipment and the ones that were just all over the place. That latter had some clear distinctions as well. Some units seemed biased towards magic, armor, or what have you. So, at least he had eliminated half his options.


    In the end, it was Pauwna who found him. He had bumbled through the crowd for an embarrassingly long time, drawing many curious looks, when she had materialized out of the thicket and dragged him away. He was mortified to realize that he had walked past them a few times. Perhaps a few more points into perception wouldn’t hurt.


    Face burning, he settled amongst them. He mumbled a quick greeting to Sūnva, but was studiously ignored. That was strange, she had been so friendly last night. Was she being professional or had he done something wrong?


    Any further consideration would have to wait as the bell rang again, this time twice. It had to be magical. No mundane bell would ring so clearly and reach so many ears. Everyone surged into motion and he followed, a step behind.


    Dante realized belatedly that all the units had been arranged into rough lines and they were marching, once again, in the wrong direction. Sūnva jogged in front of their particular unit, then turned to face them while jogging backward in a casual show of coordination.


    “Heads up everyone, we have gotten our orders. We are to retake the lost trenches, then dig in. It’s going to be bloody, so focus hard right out of the gate. We do this by the book.”


    Her eyes snapped to Dante and she pointed at him.


    “You, stay in the middle and don’t do anything you are not ordered to do. Is that clear?”


    “Yes,” the sound came out high and he reddened, “... ahem, yes Sūnva!”


    He heard a snicker from behind him. He was fairly sure it was Pauwna and Dante gave her a look, betrayed. Sūnva continued without blinking an eye.


    “Take heart, for today we reclaim our homeland from the despoilers who occupy it. Rejoice, for only in the forge of battle are true heroes made. Be careful and guard your comrades. Today, we all grow stronger.”


    In unison, she and everyone else clapped their fists over their chests.


    “For the Glory of the Empire!”


    Once again, he was a step behind the others. Then, she turned around and retook her spot at the head of the group. The group picked up their pace and there was no time for talking.


    Dante soon spotted something ahead of them. A circular patch where the dust changed from white to black. Through it was an isolated patch of rain. Around the edge of the patch light … bent, reflecting and distorting like a warped mirror. It was not


    the only patch, there were others in front of each column. All appeared to lead to slightly different places.


    Teleportation. He was going to fight immediately.