Four lines of men walked across the still solidly frozen lake, dragging heavily loaded sleds behind them. And despite the heavy load and snow-encrusted pants and cloaks, they were cheerful about it. Waving cheerfully at the lumbering crew in the southern forest as they passed, catcalling offerings of food for favors that Ethan was mostly sure were jokes.

  Probably.

  He ignored it, continuing onward and shivering slightly as the wind whipped across the ice and seemed to find every last chink in his armor. Burrowing slowly inside. All the worse for three days of warmth.

  But it was uncomfortable, not dangerous. A significant improvement and he reminded himself, not for the first time either, at how lucky they were. This had been nearly a perfect rift. Rich in plants, warm, full of low-risk enemies and further, enemies that forced men to pay attention. All wins.

  They kept moving forward, dragging the sleds over the ice and at last, up the packed snow ramps and onto a wide pathway of equally packed down snow leading to the stone-paved road cut into the hillside.

  A mostly clear stone road at that, with the shovel crews having been by in the morning and left behind a light sprinkling of sand to help with traction. And a road with a familiar figure standing atop it.

  Ethan tapped Sigismund on the shoulder and leaned in, “Can you bring them in? That looks like trouble.” He nodded ahead.

  “Of course My Lord.” The centurion affirmed and Ethan jogged ahead easily, climbing up the steeper ramp. An issue they would no doubt have to fix eventually. It was already hard to get wagons or sleds up it.

  He hit the top and came to a halt beside Conner. A Conner who looked considerably worse for wear. Not wounded exactly, he saw no blood and the only bruises were in rings about the man's eyes. But his hair and armor were streaked in a black tar-like substance that looked nasty and, Ethan rubbed at his nose discreetly, smelled worse.

  "The hell happened to you?"

  "Slimes." The obviously exhausted man retorted, his face twisting into a grimace as his mouth worked silently over what were no doubt expletives. Then regretfully, he closed it and waved a hand in resentful abandon.

  Ethan cringed with him. Poor bastards. He’d thought the bugs were bad, but spending the better part of three days wading through a swamp of decaying plant matter while fighting living jello sacks filled with sewage… He shuddered softly and tried to breathe through his mouth.

  "But we closed it." The older man ground out, looking out past Ethan at the returning Century of men and the sleds they were dragging.

  "Anything good?"

  "Good lot of monster cores, a load of bog iron and a minor skill stone."

  “Ahh?” Minor, not minute? That meant 50 uses per year instead of 5! If it was something good that would be-

  “T1 Cleaning.”

  Ethan coughed. Turning his head away and trying to contain himself. That was… on the nose? Oww, what was he supposed to say to this? At least the rift was closed?

  The older man sighed, clearly unwilling to discuss it further and nodded to the carts. "You?"

  "A hot, muggy tree top small world. Or rather we were small in it. Everything else was oversized." He paused, considering his muck-drenched companion and gave in to temptation. "Oversized and tasty!"

  He stared back, eyes twitching. Ethan kept going, suddenly enjoying himself immensely. "Best damn meal I’ve had in five months! Leeks, peppers, leafy greens stewed in snake fat and-"

  Conner spun on his heel and began to walk across the extended drawbridge. Ethan broke out laughing as he followed him. Letting the food descriptions peter off in lieu of a bit of hope. "That’s what’s in those sleds. Everyone will get a taste tonight."

  Conner grunted, still walking but looking considerably more cheerful at the idea... or at least Ethan assumed so. It was hard to tell beneath all the muck... heh.

  "The rift reward?"

  "Didn't close it."

  The man stopped, looking at Ethan with a raised eyebrow. "Harder than Leo said?"

  "Hardly. The worst thing inside was the fist-sized mosquitoes. No, Leo was spot on. Sigismund and I could have handled that boss unaided. Just didn't break the core. Far too much forage left to collect. Hell, if I could get them up there,” and keep them alive in the process, “I'd set the goats loose on it. Nibble it bare."

  Conner started walking again. "Not likely."

  "True, and it will need to be closed before the snow melts. I'll not risk the ants escaping."

  The older man raised an eyebrow. "Waist high and about a man and a half long. Bottom of tier 1, so not too bad, but horde doesn’t quite do them justice."

  He snorted and Ethan couldn't disagree. Conner stopped moving, looking down the tunnel ahead and considering, then, almost reluctantly gave an almost Leo-style request.

  "Bathhouse."

  Ethan couldn't help himself.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He broke out laughing.

  ___

  As it turned out, it was a gift within his capability to give. Boredom might not be as obvious an enemy as starvation, illness or freezing to death, but it remained a dangerous foe. And as it would have it, manually constructing the many potential buildings was a productive and fairly cheap endeavor. The framed outlines of them at least. They had more bricks than they knew what to do with.

  It was the other resources they lacked. Mounds of sand, wooden furniture or flooring and metal hardware to name the most obvious examples. And of course, the ever-limited, and growing more so, build points.

  Nearly everything they built had an upkeep cost, and while it was definitely worth the price, it was also greatly depleting how much he could accumulate in a month. Though the rising outside temperatures would give him back 30 a month.

  He shivered slightly and shrugged. Eventually, at least.

  Yes!

  Ethan twitched as the room settled around him. The large stone bricks in the walls leveled out, the cracks between them becoming ruler-straight lines that he doubted existed beyond the surface. The shallow arches and the two pillars that supported them followed suit. Seeming to shimmer slightly, but he couldn’t point to any one thing and say it’d changed.

  On the walls at least. The three-foot-deep pool and surrounding floor was something else. The brick-lined cavity settled. Sharp edges disappeared as cracks sealed and the highly glossy basalt bottom and the floor around it grew slightly rough. Not excessively so, but enough to prevent slipping and sliding.

  Ethan gave it all a second glance. It was made for an elegant room with all that black and red stone. The pool filled most of the available space, a bit over 20 feet long and leaving a narrow walkway behind a half-height wall to the left and a more generous sloped floor leading to a foot and a half wide and foot deep water catchment to the right.

  Above the catchment pegs lined the wall, holding an assortment of hanging wooden buckets and horsehair brushes. A place for a rinse and a scrub before a man jumped into the hot pool to soak.

  Well, eventually hot. Ethan leaned his head out, pulling the curtain to the side, “Bring it in!” A steady stream of men trooped in, yokes on their shoulders and buckets dangling on both sides. It wasn’t a fast process, and he’d really prefer to have a cistern on top of the Stone for this sort of thing, but eventually they’d fill it up.

  Ethan fiddled with the interface for a moment, then spent 4 more build points. Causing a few flecks of plant matter and dirt from the already half-melted snow to disappear and for roaring flames to leap into existence inside the furnace tunnels. Three walkable, if barely, stone tunnels that extended down from behind the left half wall and under most of the pool.

  With the familiar core magic, the steadily filling water began to lightly bubble, then to produce steam in minutes and he diverted a few men, having them fill the scrub buckets after they’d dropped their load of snow. They’d likely make three or four more trips before it was all full… Not a bad bit of work.

  Ethan gave it all a final look, from the stone shelves on the far wall holding a pile of towels to a tray of handmade soap (wood ash, rendered fat and mountain laurel). He nodded, making a mental note to reserve it some night for the nobility. It would be a nice treat.

  But in the meantime, he stepped through the curtain and sharply to the side with a wide smile at the line of tar-soaked and generally filthy men waiting in the large outer room. They were already stripped down, their equally filthy armor and weapons sitting to the side where 2 dozen Basics and unclassed children were scrubbing away.

  The pool wasn’t full yet, but then again…this lot weren’t about to complain! “Go on.” He offered, with a nod of his head towards the doorway. A ragged, exhausted cheer boiled out of them as they began to stream in. It would be more than a bit tight, with 10 washing stations and room for 40 very friendly men in the pool... But he’d not interfere in such. That was for the decurions to manage.

  The decurions or Ermina. Either way, he imagined it would be used at all hours of the day and night from here on out.

  At least he’d get his build points worth out of it.

  ___

  Andrew found him in the hallway outside. A sunburnt sand blasted and visibly angry Andrew.

  “Desert?”

  The younger man’s eye twitched and Ethan had to hold in a laugh. He looked just like Conner when he did that. Appropriate considering who’d trained, and for that matter, damn near raised him.

  Andrew scrubbed a hand through sand-encrusted stubble. “It was a nightmare. No, a marathon of an endurance test. Small oases where the water doesn’t refill-“ Ethan winced, “- with stone arrows pointing the way to the next one. Then a long, nasty tromp through sucking sands, blistering heat and sandstorms.” His voice was rising with every word.

  “Fucking shit show. Couldn’t stop at any one place or risk running out of water, nothing to fight so the experience was shit and through it all damn little in the way of harvest!” He tossed a fiery flower onto the floor. Not just a bright red, but with what looked like actual flames dancing around its vibrantly blue and red head.

  Andrew stomped the fires out, letting loose a string of invectives that he didn’t learn from Ethan, till at last, in a hoarse and deeply frustrated voice continued. “Wasn’t even a rift boss. Just the core sitting in the middle of a final oasis. Not even enough water for the men to drink their fill….”

  He broke out swearing again, his face growing steadily redder as even the Basics trooping by began to circle them at as wide a distance as the tunnel would allow.

  “And a fucking arrow that led us right back to the beginning. Not even 2 hours of walking! Two fucking hours, we could have finished it in two fucking hours!” Ethan patted him on the back a few times, carefully stepping back and out of the way of flailing arms and the spittle flying from his enraged mouth.

  “I should have pissed on that core! Not saluted the damn thing. See how it liked it!”

  He sighed, then reached into a sack on his belt and tossed Ethan a small, glowing orb.

  “Casualties?”

  “My sanity?” Ethan stared at him. He scratched at his uncovered head awkwardly. “Sorry My Lord, no casualties.”

  That was something. Five men dead. On the first blooding mission for green troops? Far better than they had any right to expect.

  “Good. Get some rest. There will be a feast tonight. Conner’s run didn’t go much better than yours, but mine was chock-full of green and growing eatables. Brought back six full carts, including seasonings!”

  He gave Ethan a hard glance. “Did you bribe the Lady of Fortune?”

  “Every chance I get.” Ethan offered, making a shallow bow in the direction of the shrine, given pride of place beside the western gate. “Be a fool not to.”

  He stared at Ethan for a moment, then snickered, echoing Ethan’s earlier thoughts. “Seasonings and greens huh? At least that’s something.”

  ___