They were all packed and ready, with their armor on for a change and their full kits. Michael found himself downstairs before everyone else, as usual, and saw Francesca sitting on the couch.

“How are you doing? I feel like I haven’t seen you much lately.” said Michael as he sat down across from her, his armor clanging.

She smiled at him. “I’ve been busy securing passage to the Eastern mountains. There’s a dwarven caravan that’s letting me join them once I showed how well I can identify minerals.”

“And to help them get things off of high shelves?”

She chuckled. “There’s that too.”

“Well, I’ll miss you. It was nice to have a bit of feminine energy around for a change. Ollie kept his mouth in check a bit more often, Pyotr stopped walking around camp in the nude.” Michael grimaced. “Could you actually please stay? I’ll pay you.”

She laughed again. “I’m afraid not.”

“Oh well, it was worth a try.”

She smiled. “Davi told me you heard my request?”

Michael nodded. “I did. I’ll give it a shot, but I’m not sure of I’ll be able to remove them.”

She nodded. “I understand, please give it a try.”

He raised his hand and felt the warmth of his wife’s grasp in his palm as he placed the glowing hand gently on her cheek and focused on the small symbols tattooed on her face. He did that for several moments, and frowned.

“It’s already completely healed. The ink isn’t even a scar exactly… it’s very strange.”

Francesca nodded, a grim set to her eyes as she looked at him. “What if you cut away the surface flesh first?”

He blinked, he hadn’t considered that.

“It may work, but it would be very painful.”

“Do it.”

He sighed. “Okay, but definitely not here. I think I’ll get more than a few looks if I cut at a woman’s face in the middle of the inn.”

She shook her head. “Of course, of course. Let’s go up to one of the rooms.”

They went upstairs to her room where Davi was standing and staring out the window. He looked at them and raised an eyebrow as they entered.

“The only way to remove the tattoos is to cut the flesh out,” said Francesca.

“Maybe,” said Michael. “We’ll try one and heal it to see.”

Davi’s jaw set.

“Give me the pain as you do it,” he said.

“No, you will not do that,” replied Francesca.

Michael shrugged. “I was actually going to offer as well.”

“I can handle the pain,” she said, defensively.

“Probably, but you don’t have to. How about we take turns. I’ll cut and heal one at a time or two if they’re close together.”

She was quiet, but nodded.

“Alright, I have the sharpest knife I believe,” he pulled out his elvish dagger. “So you sit on the bed and we’ll get started.”

She nodded, the grim set returning to her jaw.

He looked at her. “This first one will be all you, okay?”

She held up a hand and quickly grabbed a small leather pouch from her side that she emptied and bit down on. Then she gave him a thumbs up.

He gently held her face and placed the blade against her cheek, doing his best not to grimace. If he hesitated, it would only cause her more pain. He took a breath, and on the exhale he quickly cute away two of the larger tattoos.

Francesca’s head jerked a little involuntarily at first, but after that she managed to stay still until it was done. He healed it quickly and nodded when the tattoo was completely gone.

“It works. I’m going to move straight to the next one. Davi, be ready.”

Davi clenched his teeth, making his already square jaw even more solid. His eyes squinted a bit at the pain as Michael removed another patch of skin, but otherwise he didn’t flinch. His own turn was particularly difficult as he felt as if he was slicing his own cheek and that made it hard to focus, but he kept it clean. He didn’t want Davi to have to do. No man should have to carve his lover’s face, even if it was a soon to be former lover.

It took nearly an hour to get through, and when it was done they were all mentally exhausted.

Davi looked at her restored face.

“Still beautiful,” he said, giving her a smile and walking out the door without another word. Michael thought he may have seen tears in the man’s eyes, but chose not to mention it.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Francesca looked at the door where Davi had just left for a few moments, watching it silently.

After about a minute her blank expression turned to a frown. “These gods you’ve been talking about lately. Seras is the one whose statue was in that cave?”

Michael nodded. “She who protects.”

“So she’s the one who was keeping me safe?”

Michael nodded. “As well as she could.”

“Maybe I’ll pray to her. I’m not going to feel quite so safe without all you strong boys in armor around me.”

~bless~shield~protect~

Michael held out a hand to her.

Francesca hesitated, then took it.

Michael closed his eyes.

“Seras. Please watch over and protect Francesca. May her journey be safe and may she reach her destination shielded from trouble and misfortune.”

He could feel something small pass between them. Some of that warmth and attention of the divine that he was used to feeling shifting onto her.

“Huh,” said Francesca, frowning. “That actually makes me feel better.”

Michael smiled. “Then it was worth doing.”

He stood to stretch for a moment and frowned. He took a moment to divine Francesca, feeling that maybe the impression he had of himself giving her a tiny piece of the divine’s attention may have been more literal than he’d thought.

It took only a moment for him to find what he was looking for, hiding at the very bottom of the glowing golden lettering.

Blessing of Seras

Grants:

Minor Protection

That was new. Or was it? He’d felt something similar when he’d said that prayer for Lance before they’d separated. He needed to check his Titles and Deeds again.

They walked downstairs and found that the others were already waiting for them. Davi and Francesca shared a final warm embrace before they made their way to the southern edge of town. Marcus pretended not to care, but Michael had noticed that he’d paid for Francesca’s room through the rest of the week, covering her stay until she left.

They reached the road south out of town and found Lysandra waiting for them. She had a shortsword and a dagger at her waist as well as a small shield on her back. Next to her was a man with a large gut and wide shoulders. He had what looked to be a hammer on his back and he gave them a friendly nod when they arrived.

“These are the men you found? They don’t look nearly as weak and foolish as you led me to believe,” said the man with a surprised look on his face.

“Ha. Ha. Devahn.” She looked at the Penitents. “You’ll have to excuse him, he’s under the mistaken impression that he has an excellent sense of humor.”

“You’ll have to excuse her she’s under the impression that she’s a good judge of character.”

Michael held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Devahn took it and gave it a firm shake, his own hand nearly swallowing Michael’s whole.

“Nice to meet you too, pretty-boy. Your hands aren’t nearly as soft as your looks made me expect.”

“Thanks,” said Michael, deciding to take that at face value.

“This one here’s the mage I’m guessing,” he said, taking a step toward Ollie and looking up at him. “What the fuck are they feeding mages in Stent these days. Are they all going to be as tall as you from now on,” he looked at Lys. “Please try to convince the twins not to not ever take a contract against them again.”

Lys shrugged. “The taller they are the easier it is to find their heads in a crowd.”

Ollie shook Devahn’s hand, “I don’t know if you should be the one criticizing how other people eat, mate.”

Devahn chuckled and slapped the armor over his stomach. “This is just because I’ve gotten too used to escorting the lady here, once we’re back working jobs I’ll be looking more like this one.” He pointed at Davi. “By the king's left nut, you look like you could throw a drake by its tail.”

Davi’s frown tilted up into a slight smile and he shook the man’s hand. “Maybe a small one.”

Devahn frowned as he looked over at Marcus. “You have the keen eyes of a murderer.”

The statement made everyone pause and exchange glances for a moment until Devahn spoke again.

“That’s perfect! Always good to have a few cutthroats around. Keeps you dishonest.”

“I’m Marcus,” he said, holding out a hand that Devahn took and shook vigorously.

“Ah, the dragoon. That makes sense.”

He looked at Pyotr. “And you?”

“Pyotr.”

“Pie-oh-tear?”

“Pyotr.”

“Pie-yo-tur.”

Pyotr.”

“Pee-you-tyr.”

“Eh, close enough.”

They shared a handshake and Devahn watched Pyotr’s feet as he did so, seeming to be watching the way he gracefully moved across the ground.

Michael had the impression that Devahn was just as much a part of the recruitment process as Lys, not just her escort. He’d identified all of them and made a quick assessment in between his quips and jabs that kept them on their toes.

“If you’re done bothering the new recruits, I would like to get a move on before sundown.”

“Why of course Lady Lys, would you like me to pull around your carriage with the six white stallions?”

“No, but getting your fat ass moving would be welcome,” she retorted as she started moving up the road.

Devahn feigned a wounded expression and got moving behind her, with the rest of them clanking around in tow.

They moved at a good pace heading vaguely southeast along the main road. They passed a number of travelers that included merchants, mercenaries, and even some wagons guarded by a number of Swandian soldiers. A group like theirs wasn't an unusual thing apparently, and Michael enjoyed the stark change of being able to travel openly without needing to hide anything or have a lie prepared. He wasn’t going to wear a sign saying ‘taker’ across his chest, but it was good to know that someone could hear what he was and he wouldn’t immediately be dragged away, enlisted, or killed.

He took a moment to say a quick prayer of gratitude to those gods he’d met and those he had yet to meet.

At nightfall they all stopped a short ways off the road and lit a fire. Devahn produced a cooking set and started spreading some solidified animal fat across a pan that sizzled in response. He laid out several thick hunks of meat and began mixing in onions, peppers, and a half dozen other vegetables Michael didn’t recognize. He initially assumed that he was preparing a meal for himself, but soon he started to hand bowls to each of them, along with two tined forks.

“Thank you,” said Michael as he took the bowl. “It smells delicious.”

“We try to make people a bit more comfortable in Gemini Company than the army does,” said Devahn as he went back to the large pan to throw a bit more meat into his pan.

“Don’t get too spoiled by his cooking,” said Lys as she finished a bite of her own bowl. “When we’re in the field he gets an anxious stomach and can’t bring himself to do it.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t seem to be the nervous type.”

“He masks it well,” said Lys, expertly spearing a succulent piece of meat.

Once they were done eating, Michael dug his mirror out of his pack to review his titles and deeds.

Blessings:

Healing

Pain Transfer

Smite

Bless

He noticed the new blessing quickly. Just like the others, he wasn’t able to view it deeper. He sighed, just another things he’d have to experiment with. Still, it would be very useful to be able to give his friends some measure of protection like he did for Francesca. It would be even better if he could offer blessings other than protection as well. Perhaps it was based on which god he called on during the blessing? Or even his feelings toward the person?

He took a moment to turn his thoughts to the murmurs of the gods. They still faded in and out, but he had a feeling that they were getting stronger. He just wished they were a bit more coherent as well.

~bless~pilgrim~few~limited~restrained~followers~worshippers~

They seemed to be telling him that he couldn’t just go blessing people willy nilly. Still, he’d need to test it with some of his friends at the very least. Hopefully the limit was six, he didn’t want Lance to lose whatever it was he’d given him when he might need it.