Penitent

The hidden village treated them to a feast and a celebration that night. They lit a bonfire at the foot of Bruntus's statue and threw plants on it that created green and purple smoke. They started to barbecue what smelled like pork very shortly after they'd finished their discussion with Absalom and multiple men and women made sure to turn the meat carefully, letting it cook slowly and absorb as much of the smokey flavor of the fire as possible. The god of diligence's people favoring bar-be-cue wasn't something he could say that he expected, but it made perfect sense.

Michael took some time to heal anyone who was injured, but he found that everyone who had been injured farming, or herding, had had their wounds well cleaned and cared for and their breaks already reset. He was speeding the process of healing along, but he was almost certain that all of them would've made a full recovery anyway.

Pyotr occupied himself by learning a dance that a number of the villagers were engaging in as they waited for the food to be completed. Michael was impressed, as he always was, with how graceful the man could be. The dance was complex, requiring six people with a number of partner alterations, step changes, and moving through one another's space. Pyotr only had to watch it a few times before making an attempt, and while there was a minor hiccup here and there, he was soon adding in his own little flourishes, leaps, and steps, putting his own twist on everything while still maintaining the pace and movements needed for the others to be able to continue the dance. He was just as focused on improving their coordination with one another as he was on adding his own steps.

Michael avoided the dance, and instead found himself drawn to sitting at the table with the Priest and a few of the other more wizened members of the village.

"How old were you before you came to this world?" asked Dina, an older woman with short cut gray hair and small black eyes.

"I was in my sixties," he said, smiling as he watched Pyotr somehow figure out a way to be part of two separate groups of dancers at the same time.

"Practically a sage," said Thazar, a small bald man with piercing blue eyes and eyebrows thick enough to hide an ambush in.

"I had plenty of life left to live, but I was definitely feeling distinctively 'old' even before I got cancer. I don't think I was able to stand up without grunting, or wake up without feeling sore somewhere the next day."

The woman chuckled. "Sounds like you your whole life, Absalom," she said, smiling at the priest.

He grunted.

Michael had a sip of his tea. "You all don't seem to be as… angry at takers as most other people I've met."

"The western Humelands have always been more prejudiced against them then those in the East," said Absalom. "Much of our history was lost during the cataclysm, but much of the oral traditions here have more mentions of heroic takers mixed in with the tales of villains. It's not all like that in the East of course.In Burndan they still leave them to the elements to let the world choose whether they should live or die, but to them that is kinder than what Svict does even though the result is the same. Svict's may even be kinder."

Michael's mind drifted to the large stone dyed red that he'd seen in the Svict village all those months ago. It was hard to imagine that as a kindness, but compared to being left to the elements for a slow death, perhaps the swiftness of it was a mercy.

"Swandia in particular seems to stand out. Letting the parents choose seems a good… compromise compared to some of the other choices."

"They are not the only ones who do this, but they have been doing it from the beginning. We had a King a long time ago who let his wife decide what would happen to their newborn son. He wanted to ensure other parents had the same choice. We believe strongly in family here."

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The food was done shortly after and Pyotr gestured for him to come and sit next to him. Michael grabbed a wooden plate covered in smoking meat. His mouth had been watering for the last several hours as the smell of it had covered the entire village. He went and sat next to Pyotr who was covered in sweat, but smiling ear to ear.

"I had forgotten how good it was to dance. Battle is similar in some ways, but your partners tend to die more often."

Michael chuckled as he shoveled more meat into his mouth. It was tender and sweet with an underlying smokiness that ended each bite perfectly. He washed it down with some kind of liquor he was unsure of the origin of, and very quickly he started to feel the mix of caffeine and alcohol mix in a very odd way. He wound up eating and drinking everything available to him within only a few minutes.

"Come now brother, let me show you how to do their dance," said Pyotr as he clapped him on the back, starting to move toward the figures dancing by the fire, not waiting for Michael's answer.

Michael sighed and finished the dregs of his drink before following Pyotr toward the flame. Pyotr and the others that joined them started things off slowly for him, and then very slowly began speeding up. Michael wouldn't have said he was uncoordinated in his old life, just never graceful. Here though, it was different. He had trained his body every day for most of his life in this new world. He was used to wearing heavy armor all the time, but now he was unencumbered, and his hours upon hours of training rote movements had made him better at learning new ones. He was no ballerino like Pyotr, but soon he found himself swept up in the music and dancing, not even having to watch his own feet as he lost himself to all of it.

They danced and danced until late into the evening, then they danced some more, taking only a few breaks for food and drink to refuel before re-entering the fray. Absalom and the other elders even joined on a few occasions, their lack of easy movement made up for by their obvious experience with the dance and precise movements.

At the end of the night Pyotr and him were led to a small hut with two separate rooms with beds. Michael fell down onto his covered in sweat, his mind scrubbed clean by the mix of alcohol and effort. At some point a few hours later he was awoken by a slight shaking. He stirred to see the woman that had been pointing a crossbow at him earlier that day, wearing not much at all and smiling at him. She slid luxuriously into the bed next to him.

"It is not often that we get fresh blood in the village," she said, her hand starting to travel a bit lower. "Every once in a while, we need to make sure we don't produce one cousin too many."

Michael grabbed her hand gently.

"I'm afraid I have to refuse. If it was for fun I'd be more than welcoming of this, but I can't have any children whose lives I'm not a part of. Besides, I had a wife, and I'm fairly certain she'd cross between worlds to haunt me if I went any further than casual fun." Michael had made sure his last two rolls in the hay involved some kind of contraception. The methods of this new world were...unique, but he didn't want to take chances.

The woman frowned, disappointed, but withdrew her hand.

"I'm sure Pytor won't have the same compunctions as me."

She shook her head. "There is already another on his way to him now."

Michael laughed. "I wouldn't underestimate him. I'm fairly certain he'll be able to help you both."

She shrugged. "Couldn't hurt to try," and walked out to the room next door.

Michael laughed a little as the noises in the nearby room began to escalate, and turned over to go back to sleep.

…

Michael and Pyotr left the village late the next morning, their packs weighed down with a number of gifts. They had both been given a hefty amount of the barbecue that had been cooked the previous night as well as a tremendous amount of the heavily caffeinated tea that Pyotr seemed to already be in the thrall of. Michael felt…relaxed. Even with new knowledge of the burden that had been given to him, it had been nice to cut loose in a way he'd rarely managed, even before arriving in this new world. He would do whatever it took to meet that burden anyway. The gods had given him everything, he would give them his life without question.

"Teach me one of your prayers, brother," said Pyotr as they walked. He'd been practically whistling as they'd left the hidden village. "The women of that village were very diligent and I want to make sure that I offer proper thanks."

Michael laughed.

"Bruntus, we thank you for revealing yourself. We thank you for the strength to keep placing one foot in front of another. We ask that we always have the will to keep taking that next step."

"Amen, brother."