Michael was crouched low as he looked at the small wooden building a few feet ahead of them. He’d already cast muffle on himself, but was still finding his footfalls to be louder and heavier than those of Marcus who was crouched down just a little further ahead.

“We get in and get out. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and we don’t take any more than we need,” whispered Michael. He wasn’t happy that it had come to this, but they needed the protein, they couldn’t survive on roots and forage forever. The last thing they’d had was a couple of squirrels, and that was a week ago.

“Alright, alright,” replied Marcus, lightly shaking his head.

They both moved closer to the chicken coop, and Marcus silently leapt over the small fence that was keeping them away from it. Michael followed, climbing it carefully behind him to minimize noise. They could hear the soft clucking within.

Marcus moved to the front of the coop and gently opened the door, climbing carefully inside with Michael close behind him.

Once inside, the chickens, realizing that they weren’t their usual caretakers, began to cluck and loudly panic, a few of them even pecking at them when they got close enough. Michael grabbed one of the nearest ones and quickly snapped its neck.

Marcus did the same to two more.

“Two would’ve been enough,” whispered Michael.

“We’re growing boys, we need to be more than ‘enough’ full.”

“Fine, let’s get going.”

Marcus sighed as they walked out. “You know, this isn’t exactly the kind of henhouse I was hoping to sneak into once we deserted.”

Michael chuckled. “Maybe not the one you’d hoped for, but definitely the one you deserve.”

Marcus shook his head and climbed back over the fence.

Michael could hear some stirring in the farmhouse nearby, and placed a single silver coin visibly on the top of the coop door. He then climbed back over the fence with the fat hen tucked under his arm and followed Marcus quickly back into the small patch of trees they’d come out from. Svict was more hilly than Stent, but also much less forested making it harder for them to hide. They’d been lucky that the academy had prepared them for having to forage in Svict almost as much as in Tusinia.

Once they were a good distance away Marcus looked at Michael. “You left a coin or something didn’t you?”

“Yep,” he replied.

“You know we’re probably going to need all the coin we can get.”

“And they may have needed all of their chickens.”

“And leaving a couple of Stent coppers is also a great way to lead any pursuers to us.”

“I didn’t leave them coppers.”

“Oh, just one copper?”

“Nope. A silver.”

Marcus groaned. “You’re killing me.”

“Trying, but so far you keep walking and talking.”

They reached the small camp that they’d marked Davi’s chestplate to be able to locate. Ollie was juggling a half dozen balls of light, Davi was chatting with Francesca and Pyotr was watching over Lance who was staring straight ahead, acknowledging nothing. He had tried to fight them and escape at first, but without his Heir titles he couldn’t beat all of them. Once he’d realized it was over, that there was no salvaging his plan, he’d shut down. Michael felt some guilt about it, but if they let him go then he’d be hung for treason. He still had so much life left in him, Michael was hoping he could convince him to live the rest of it.

“Ah, the big game hunters return with their prey,” said Ollie dismissing the light he’d been juggling and standing himself up. He moved over to a large flat stone he’d placed in the center of their little makeshift camp. “You guys start gutting and plucking and I'll heat the ‘stove’.” They hadn’t lit any fires so that they wouldn’t draw any attention, but luckily Ollie was able to create heat on surfaces in the same way he could cool down drinks.

Michael sat down and looked at the chicken in front of him, glancing over at Marcus who seemed equally at a loss.

“You have no idea how to prepare a chicken, do you?” asked Davi, approaching them.

“I mean… I can gut it, but do you literally just tear the feathers out? I’m happy to do it if you just explain it.” Michael wasn’t really ashamed of his ignorance in this area. If it hadn’t come up in the more than sixty years of life he’d lived before coming to this world, he really couldn’t be blamed for not knowing it.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“I’ll take care of it, I’m too hungry to wait.” He held out a hand and Michael handed him the chicken by its feet. Davi sat and quickly started to prep the chicken, plucking it with confidence.

“I will take one of the other ones,” said Francesca approaching Marcus. “I haven’t prepared one since I lived with my Nonna, but I’ll do a better job than you.” She was a forceful woman, but since they’d been travelling together she’d gone out of her way to help them as much as possible. She needed to, since taking her with them had dramatically increased the danger all of them were in, and it was already extreme.

Marcus handed the chicken off, happy to be free of the responsibility and went over to lay flat on his pack. Michael went to his own pack and grabbed his hand mirror. He took a few moments to look at himself and watched as the golden letters of the divine began to coalesce and form his titles and deeds.

Titles:

Michael Mann

The Restored

The Wound Man

Godseeker

Champion of Seras

Deeds:

Bridge Holder

Revenge Denier

Run Conqueror

Resilient Competitor

Fort Healer

Righteous Defender

Castle Taker

Baron Breaker

Rift Sealer

Warrior Mender

Blessings:

Healing

Pain Transfer

Smite

He started by looking again at his new titles

Godseeker

Grants: Greater Awareness of the Gods

Champion of Seras

Grants:

Very Minor Protection

Very Minor Recovery

Can be strengthened by accomplishing feats in her name

Both of them almost certainly came from his encounter with Seras’s statue in the cave and his subsequent battle with the creature that had been lurking there. So far the Godseeker ability seemed to manifest as a kind of pull. He had only been able to follow that pull once, but the small overgrown shrine he’d found near their camp had nothing legible on it. His Champion of Seras ability was much more clear. He’d invoked her name when he’d defeated the beast in the cave, and had been rewarded for it. He hadn’t received a deed for the slaying, but strengthening his connection to the gods was what he wanted at that moment, and they’d already been more than generous to him.

He could still hear the slight whispers of the divine, but they were barely audible most of the time, seeming to wax and wane naturally throughout the day. He wanted to know more about the gods, and to deepen his connection to them, but while they were still so close to the border with Tusinia he couldn’t exactly make it a priority.

He turned his attention to his new blessing. Just like the others, focusing on it didn’t seem to bring up any new information. He had a general idea of how it worked of course, he wouldn’t have survived the fight in the cave without it. It bathed him in gold light and coated any weapon with divine fire. He hadn’t been able to manifest it since then, but he didn’t really want to. He noticed the first night they made camp that the steel of his sword had weakened and grown brittle since he used it the last time. He’d done his best to take care of it, but he wasn’t eager to test it out in another battle, especially now that he didn’t have easy access to fresh weapons.

He blinked away the golden letters and gently wrapped his mirror in cloth and placed it carefully back into his pack. He could hear the sound of meat sizzling and looked to see Davi and Francesca gently placing hunks of chicken onto the heated stone.

Ollie sighed as he watched it cook. “There was this Lebanese place up the road I used to go to. Had the best fucking charcoal chicken. Damn I wish I could have that again.”

“I always preferred pork, but my mama made a great coconut chicken I’d kill for now,” said Davi, carefully flipping one of the pieces with his dagger.

“My Nona would make a really good Chicken Piccata. She would always say it was a family recipe, but I’m pretty sure she stole it from her neighbor,” said Francesca.

“What about you Mike?”

Michael sighed. “I miss chicken wings.”

“You stereotypical fuck,” said Ollie chuckling. “Not even going to lie and say your wife made great roasted chicken?”

“She did… but I miss wings more. Besides, when we ordered out I’d get more time with her and the kids than when she cooked.”

“How about you Pyotr? Chicken Kiev I’m guessing?”

Pyotr snorted, “Only if I was trying to impress some new girl in the Corps de Ballet. I’d rather get some nuggets from ‘maccas’ as you call it. Chicken’s not worth so much effort.”

The chicken was finished and Michael started by taking a large piece to Lance who, in spite of his silence and dead eyed stare, did start to eat it.

After that he sat in a circle with the rest of them, eating his own chicken and finding that, even though he’d have preferred wings, his hunger meant he didn’t really care.

“So, how long until we reach Swandia?” asked Ollie.

“Not sure,” said Marcus still rubbing some sleep from his eyes after the short nap they’d woken him from. “If the maps I was able to look at are accurate then probably a month if we’re lucky. I’m hoping once we get deep enough into Svict the Tusinians won’t want to antagonize them by sending in soldiers to find us. The ones they've sent so far have been trouble enough, though…” he glanced at Francesca, “It’s possible they’ll find some other way to come after such a valuable asset.”

She bit into her chicken, meeting his gaze. “If you wish, I can travel alone. Now that I’ve eaten and you have all been gracious enough to carry me, I feel my strength is much returned.”

“No,” said Michael and Davi simultaneously, though there was a bit more iron in Davi’s voice than his.

Marcus sighed. “Alright, alright. I shouldn’t have said anything. I still think we can start travelling openly after just a few more days. We may have been able to shake those dragoons and their dogs. From what Francesca and I have pieced together, Svict doesn’t have a lot of love for Stent. We can be honest about being deserters as long as we aren’t honest about being Penitents, and-”

He stopped talking and sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing. “Dammit. Why the fuck did I say anything? Dogs coming closer. We need to move.”

Michael took one last bite of his chicken and shoved the rest into his pack, throwing it on and getting ready to run again. They'd hoped that Ollie managing to remove the marks left on their gear would've kept Stent and Tusinia off their tails, but apparently good old fashioned tracking was a different story.