Ethan stroked the tier 3 Winter Wolf's hide in barely hidden glee as they marched down a snow-spotted vale.

  "I can't believe you got away with that Sir Andrew." He mused... then, before the younger man, still flush with success and who knew what else, could respond, "I can't believe we got away with that." A tier 3 threat taken out, not by mass, and at the expense of multiple lives, but by cooperation with a force he never really knew existed.

  He would have to make a heavy sacrifice to The Lady of Fortune tonight. They’d pushed the pendulum deeply into ‘good’ fortune. But she was not the Goddess of only the bright. Her statue was one of two faces, smile on the right, frown on the left with the open cavities of her all-seeing eyes connecting the two. It was a rare man indeed who didn’t know both faces well.

  And if he claimed to know only the frown, then he lacked the wisdom to see, and seize what Fortune offered when it came, as it often does, in disguise.

  And if he claimed to know only smiles…

  Then he was a liar.

  Ethan snorted, then shrugged his shoulders under the heavy, and valuable, load. A sacrifice might not prevent bad fortune, but it would lighten its sting.

  Perhaps.

  If she felt like it.

  Well, at least it wouldn’t hurt!

  His musings were interrupted by a short but sharp exchange with a pack of snow Kobalds. The three-foot-tall white and blue feathered monsters weren’t exactly dangerous, though their claws and fangs were sharp. But they were sneaky little bastards, their feather-coated vestigial wings cupped overhead, made for convincing snow drifts.

  They were also excellent materials for fletching arrows!

  Spears thrust, a few arrows flew and the packs got heavier. Ethan marked the small rift on a bit of parchment before they moved along.

  They found three more rifts, and twice that in minor encounters, before they hit the Silberstrom valley again.

  If not their section of it.

  “How far North are we Cato?”

  “More like Northwest, Milord. And at least five miles, walking. But not more than ten.”

  Ethan glanced up, and up, and up to where the sun had already dropped below the jagged tips of the towering mountains. Not that this meant much, with light still shining on the opposite peaks and a significant portion of the mountain below them.

  Time could be hard to tell, though as it turned more towards spring, the sun was setting farther to the north west. By midsummer, it would shine nearly the length of their farm valley before it set. Still, in most of a day they hadn’t gone that far as the crow flies.

  Not that his legs believed it. He shrugged the bundled wolf hides, feathers and claws higher onto his left shoulder as he used his spear as an occasional stabilizer.

  They jogged downstream, taking careful note of the still sparse grass buds pushing their way up around, and occasionally through the last bits of snow. That was fodder for the next winter growing it, and they took a proprietary view of it.

  Even better, as it had yet to grow in, there was far less cover for the ever-present beasts. They noticed the colony of Tera Zokar long before its defenders assembled on the edge of their multi-acre burrow to trill their defiance of the would-be intruders. Their disturbingly long finger claws and somewhat adorable teeth on full display.

  At under two feet long, the rock-furred mole-like creatures, their distinctive upside-down heart-shaped, pink noses on full display, weren’t exactly terror inducing. At least not alone. But the colony in front of them covered much of the valley bottom, and nearly 70 adult members were standing in a threat display. Who knew how many more were hiding beneath the ground? And with no delusions about one-on-one being honorable, that was an entirely different matter.

  Ethan made another note on his rough map before they climbed around them on the too steep to walk hillside.

  They’d likely have to clear them out. A pity really, as they had little in the way of common wants with the hardy, root and tuber eating rodents. And they were a decent deterrent to anything coming from further up the valley…

  He’d think about it. But as territorial as they were, it might be out of his hands come haying season.

  But with the last rays barely visible on the peaks above, they turned a corner and, to the trilling bird calls of scouts, and shield bared approach of a decade of Hastati on patrol, beheld the Stone in all its understated glory.

  If still several miles away. Expanding out before them was the half-cleared farm fields, their well-marked borders already piled with a forming ridge of stones, both big and small. And three dozen Farmers and Labori already streaming slowly back towards The Gap, safety and supper.

  It was good to be home! But… He turned back and considered the men behind him. “Men of Alfwin pass. When we get in, brag your hearts out about the fights, but not a word on the herbs. You’ll get your fair share later, by my oath. But let’s not tempt others to ruin what’s not ready to be harvested?”

  “Yes My Lord.”

  ___

  “And then, cool as you please, the sap starts wrapping it up like some funerary ritual!” Ethan offered, having to stop to pound Conner on the back as he laughed so hard he nearly cried.

  “With a tier 3 looking down on him?” he gasped, barely able to get a breath in.

  “Not 15 feet away, and its hooves coated in the brains of the last dumb bastard to bother his herd.” Ethan agreed.

  “It wasn’t that crazy-“ Andrew protested, if weakly.

  The looks he got said why. It had been crazy. Completely and completely insane.

  But…

  It had also worked.

  Ethan shrugged and poured the knight a full mug of beer from his own personal, fast dwindling supply.

  “To Sir Andrew!” He called out to the filled hall, “And to the cart he’ll need to carry his balls around!”

  Cheers and laughter exploded as men and women willingly raised scant glasses, tea mostly, though with a solid exception where Cato sat with a circle of attractive, laughing women.

  Ethan chortled, ignoring the sharp elbow and disapproving sniff from his right.

  ___

  Later that night, Ethan put the last few touches into the now steep-sided sandbox. A wide loop of mountainous territory and if it was distorted a bit from an incomplete perspective, well, that was often the case.

  It was a hard thing to see the full shape of a land from just walking on it.

  He added twelve flags for the various rifts they’d either seen or suspected due to monster presences. Another four flags where’d they spotted something dangerous enough to avoid.

  Then, after measuring the path with a bit of string, he hesitantly placed a dozen more flags for valuable herb patches.

  “They really worth that much?” Conner offered, glancing down on the growing map thoughtfully.

  Ethan shrugged. “I’ve no reason to doubt Cato.” He drew it out, a slight challenge in his tone.

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  Conner just grunted.

  Ethan shrugged. “-and I asked Blake to drop by when he finished whatever experiment kept him from dinner.” With the Imperial College being the prime consumer of most of the herbs, well, he should be able to provide some confirmation.

  “Yous gonna let him play with them then?”

  “No?” Ethan offered, and winced as his tone, even to his own ear, lacked any conviction in that regard.

  Conner stared at him.

  “No.” He repeated, though not without a grimace. It was a hard thing, telling Blake no. They all knew damn well how much they owed the man.

  But with the core’s advancement in the offing, their easiest trade good, monster cores, were off the table. A tier 3 hide would certainly command an extreme value, and the tier 2 hides to go with it would drive that price even higher; it was still just one product. And one that would saturate the market rather easily.

  And they would need to buy a great deal in the way of staples before fall. Something like 250 Gold worth if his admittedly ballpark math was right.

  Two thousand people ate a lot of bread and drank a great deal of wine. Even if it was only to round out a heavy meat and mushroom diet. And hopefully soon they could add a great deal of milk and cheese to that.

  But until then, they needed exports!

  Even if it hurt. His Father had always said, and his Grandfather before him, skills, levels and gear came first. With them, gold would not be hard to acquire.

  But that was only within reason. You didn’t gain levels by starving to death. Nor if stir-crazy, ill-tempered subjects beat each other to death over the winter.

  He was still scribbling out a makeshift list of their needs, and one James and Ermina would tear to pieces later, when the rear door opened and Blake trooped in, absently rubbing his wet hair and beard with a towel.

  “Ethan! Conner! Lovely evening.”

  “You look like the cat that ate the canary my brother. What made yours so good?”

  “Nothing big, nothing big. Just successfully synthesized Sal Sophiae Crytstallinus!” He tried to keep it cool. And failed miserably, his tone rising to a triumphant shout on the last word.

  “Congratulations!” Ethan crowed, forcing cheer into his voice. “Sooo… what is it?”

  “Whaaaa…? Ah. Well yes. Damn. Of course you wouldn’t know.” He muttered, visibly drooping. “Crystalized water of wisdom. It offers a potent, if temporary, burst of mental acuity at the expense of stamina.” He puffed back up slightly, then, with a bit of red rising in his cheeks continued. “It also tastes rather amazing when properly steeped.”

  Ethan stared at him. “You created tea?”

  “Amazingly tasty, buffing tea.” He corrected.

  A buff… well that was something, Ethan allowed. If a rather niche something.

  “But never mind my tea. You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes, yes I did.” Ethan reached over and, tugging its draw string out, unfolded a bag into a mostly flat disk of leather with a pile of greyish brown, finger-thick root slivers, yellowish green along the flatter side where they’d been cut, mounded in its center. A small pile, a quarter to a half a pound. He slid the leather piece over to Blake.

  The magister leaned down, staring at them before giving a light sniff. “Maybe… What did the plant look like?” Ethan smiled, pushing a small scroll over. Unrolled to show just one of a series of nice, if simplistic, sketches Cato had provided.

  He stared for a moment, then gently reached down, tapping at a cut end with his pinky, very lightly then raising it to his lips for a quick lick. He winced turning to the side and spitting while his cheeks puckered like he’d bit into a lemon. He turned back with a wide smile.

  “Achh, that’s worse than the scrolls said it would be! Kutki!” He pronounced happily. “It fortifies the liver and boosts the immune system. It’s also one of the components of Panancea Minor. If you can unify the five organs and seven senses, it will ward off 2nd tier and below poisons. This is good stuff! Send it by my laboratory later and I’ll see what else it might be capable of.”

  “I will if you ask it of me Brother. But we are in rather dire need of funds. Can it not be sold?”

  “Yes.” He responded dryly. “If you want to suffer a loss. Each herb will go at, hmm, let's use spices as an example. You’ve seen what an ounce of saffrona goes for, yes?”

  Ethan nodded, about weight for weight in gold. Though why he couldn’t say. He’d had a taste of a rice and fowl dish that was dusted, very lightly, in the stuff at a Triumphus. After nearly dying during the closing of a Medium Demon Rift. It was good, but not that good!

  “Well let's say each herb goes for that price or better. If you unite all twelve, the finished product is worth 5 gold Madaeus.”

  Ethan stared. A Madaeus. He’d only seen one once! They weren’t coins, but medallions! Gold disks the size of ones hand!”

  “And if we do find them. Do you have the skills to mix them?”

  Blake hesitated, then sighed. “No. Not with any great confidence the first time at least. But the herbs are reputed to grow in the high mountains, and if they do all, or even most, grow here. We’d be fools to let someone else take the profit.”

  Ethan sighed. “You’re not wrong. But we need coin now, as much as we will later.” He raised a hand as Blake moved to protest. “Let’s table it for now. That’s not the only thing we found.”

  He unfolded three other leather pouches, one at a time and passed them over, unrolling the scroll as well to show another half dozen pictures. Best to make sure they really could be identified now.

  Blake stared happily, glancing back and forth between the disks and the pictures for a time. Then pointed to the fleshy tubers: “Satuwa. A decently well-known Libidinis Auxillia. Some say it can cure impotence.” He didn’t sound impressed.

  “A nice toy for rich, bored old men. Nothing I’d bother with.”

  “I’m interested in the rich part. Do you know what it’s worth?”

  “It’s not saffrona, but then again, those who need it aren’t exactly likely to advertise. Find the right buyer and it might go that high.” He didn’t look particularly certain about it, then with a shrug, continued. “But I wouldn’t bet on it. Half that price maybe?”

  That was still a large sum. Three pounds or so of tubers and with ten gold coins in a pound. Fifteen golds! Not bad at all.

  “Leontopodium!” Be barked after staring hard at a pile of small white, star-shaped flowers. “They reinforce the lungs of the five organs!”

  “And this might… might I say, I’ll have to check some of my scrolls to be sure, but I think its Bergenia.” He pointed to a pile of thick, round and nearly leather-like in texture leaves. “And if so we have three of the set. The stomach this time.”

  “Gentian, perhaps? A very nice blue die if soaked in aqua vitae. Good, bright blues are hard to find, but I couldn’t tell you what its worth. The rest? I’ll have to check later.”

  “It’s already a good start.” Ethan offered… then after a small hesitation. Pushed another large leather pouch across the table.

  Blake raised an eye brow picking it up and beginning to untie the strings. Then stopped and sniffed. “Spikenard.” He stated, flatly. His eyes suddenly sharp.

  Ethan nodded.

  “Who knows?”

  “The team that went out with me.”

  “That’s too many to silence.” He offered, letting out a long breath in, was that relief?

  “Blake!” Conner barked. Shocked and Ethan wasn’t far behind him.

  “Oh bother that! Do you two know what this is worth?”

  “Cato said 15 times its weight in gold to the Imperial College. 2/3rds that to the noble market as a perfume.”

  “Perfume!” Be barked, aghast. “Only if you’re a damn duke. I’d not guarantee your life otherwise.”

  “What, Magisters will kill for it?”

  “Yes!”

  They stared at him, shocked. Magisters were neutral. Damn near by Imperial Edict. It wasn’t quite that explicit, but for all the status they gained, they were forbidden from owning land. And for the most part, that kept them out of dynastic wars and conflicts. A good thing to, because without a friendly Magister, how could you defend against a curse?

  “Why?”

  “You don’t need to know! And I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Ethan hesitated. “It’s not a one-time harvest. Cato was very careful, and apparently in five or so-”

  “Seven.” Blake barked. “Not earlier than seven, but I’m relieved to hear it. At least the College’s herbal outreach is giving off fruit.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t think knowledge of such herbs is easy to come by do you? The College pays for, and teaches, a compulsory herbal gathering class to scouts. We do consume most of the high-end varieties after all. How else can we guarantee the supply?”

  Ethan stared… that was both far sighted, and rather terrifyingly practical. Then shook his head.

  “If we are going to be harvesting this stuff even irregularly, who might be coming for us? How do we prevent it?”

  Blake sat down heavily, “The standard answer is to sign a contract with the College. Become a reliable supplier and the risk mostly comes off the table.”

  Mostly?

  “But it's not without risks. It wouldn’t be the first time that a senior mage started throwing his weight around and demanded a larger harvest than was wise. Damaging the sources. They get a heavy penalty for it through the College, but that doesn’t undo the damage. And if, after our own people understand the value, they take some and sell it privately, well, that too could land us in hot water.”

  “You’re not selling that option.”

  “Because it’s not a good one.” He responded bluntly. “It’s not wise to deal across such a power disparity. It just might be the best option we have.”

  “Maybe not.” Ethan mused. Considering. “A little birdy did promise to drop back by.”

  Conner and Blake froze. Then Conner started chuckling and a few moments later, Blake followed suit. “Now that, that I hadn’t thought of.” The Magister offered. “Offered to our Liege, now who can argue with that?”

  “No one would dare.” Conner stated bluntly. Ethan nodded. If they offered it as an Imperial monopoly… The parallels with their own fortress core were not lost on him. Ironic it was, to find himself hoping for such a monopoly.

  “And, well, if you found one patch…” Blake offered, after a few comfortable moments of silence.

  Ethan glared, greed might get them killed! But at least this time, he had a better way of showing that. He moved to a chest against the wall and returned with a pure white hide that was longer than he was, and pristine again after a wash in the Silberstrom. He placed the hide carefully on the table, then pulled his hands back and rubbed them briskly together, breathing on them.

  Blake waved a hand above it without touching. “A Tier 3?” He offered, clearly entranced by the way light broke down into a spread of colors just along its surface. “I didn’t hear any death chants.”

  Ethan and Conner knocked twice on the table, then, with thumb and pinky extended, balanced Kiron’s scales. “I’ll thank you not to invite ill will, my brother. The Lady of Fortune was kind, let’s not invite a rebound.”

  He waved it off, his hand darting down for a quick pet through the silky smooth, but tough as steel hair. Recovering his hand to rub it briskly against his robe a moment later. “Was it guarding the patch?”

  “No, but they are out there. We send scouts out all over the mountains looking for herbs, and we won’t get them all, or perhaps even most, back.

  Blake nodded. “Not much point risking it this year anyway. You need to harvest them before the snow fully melts or you’ll harm the plants. But if you mark the patches, next spring will offer an obscene payoff!”

  “How common are the patches?”

  “You’re asking me, but who am I supposed to ask?”

  Ethan traded a glance with Conner. Well, it was a true cash crop. But like all such. There were strings attached.

  And with a bit of inattention, those strings could turn into a noose.

  ___