“Yes, it is." Prof agreed with the weather forecast. The strange thing was, that on the Julianese side of the border, it was only overcast, but on the Fallarian side it was indeed heavily snowing. It was probably because of some rare constellation between elevation, air current, and humidity.

  Or magic.

  Since Prof wasn't any good in either weather or magic-related Skills, he just shrugged.

  “I think, there is a house over there.” Prof pointed to a vague shape to the left. “Maybe we could wait out the most heavy part of the snowfall there.”

  Driving the wagon in knee-deep snow was actually easier, than on dry ground – simply because the Hogs were behaving like a snow plow, and didn’t try to wander. The velocity was, however, even lower.

  “Strange. I would have bet, you would crash within a few meters in this snow.”

  “You actually betted, leech. I have full confidence in the peasant that he can proceed at least ten meters!”

  “Sssssixteeen.”

  It was actually almost twenty meters (Mini measured the distance) before the wagon got stuck in a gully. The party members started arguing if that could be considered crashing, but Prof just started to unhitch his four-legged engines. They had time to dig out the wagon, but leaving their animals in the open would probably lead to deep-frozen corpses. Binky in particular wasn't looking good.

  Unusual for a creature from Forestdeep.

  Not so unusual were the frozen corpses in the fortified house – sandals and manly miniskirts weren’t ideal wear for the winter.

  “Well, we at least found the border guards." Prof took stock of the situation "Do you think, we could legally enter the country if the guards are dead and no one can grant us entry?"

  “Sure, why not? What could possibly go wrong?"

  Fines, incarceration, punitive tolls, and if the Fallarians had any contact with Elves, probably a wagonload of other invented things that would lead to the tourist paying through his nose.

  While it was late in autumn, and they were in a mountain pass, Prof found it strange, that guards, who ought to know the local conditions would flash freeze because of a random blizzard. Only wearing sandals and manly miniskirts.

  Well, those clothing articles probably had some special, cultural name, but for Prof they looked like miniskirts, barely longer, than what you would find on girls out hunting in a club.

  While his [Investigating] was quite low, he still felt the need to look around. Curiosity killed the cat, as the saying went, but he was a proud Human, so probably nothing could go wrong. Only D?nci was in any danger, being technically a talking magical cat.

  It looked like the guards were surprised by the cold; some were sitting by a table, playing some game, involving cards, depicting people, loot, and actions. Prof was almost sure, he knew that game.

  Another, wearing an apron to sandals and skirt was in the kitchen, standing by a frozen stove. Just like a statue.

  The last one was peacefully sitting on the loo. That was an image, Prof needed to forget.

  “I don’t think, this blizzard is natural. It was too sudden and too cold. Ehmm… Mini… Could you please make Binky stop licking that dead guy?”

  “Why? He likes popsicle food.”

  “This is a criminal scene, not a fast food joint.”

  “You mean, we can’t even loot the place?”

  “Nope. You don’t loot governmental facilities. Anyway, the cold…”

  “It was time, that you realized, this was deliberate, peasant. If I had to guess, someone with [Magic: Environmental] dropped a Spell.”

  “A mage did this?”

  “Or whatever other hat fashion. Although, I think druids are the most likely to use that kind of magic.”

  “Why blast a guard post with a blizzard? It looks like quite an obvious attack…”

  “Because they were bored? Like the snow? Wanted to go skiing? Look, Prof. If you have any kind of magic, you obviously use it as often as possible. Firstly, because it's fun, and you probably get better at it. Maybe even get headway to the next Level."

  “Or you make a statement. Here I am, don't mess with me, lowlifes! A little bit of preemptive deterrence goes a long way; common pedestrians won't disturb you later with their nagging if you are known to freeze a mountain for fun."

  Prof wondered, if everybody did it the same way, or if it was a Forestean-only thing. Logically, there was some merit in it. If you were known to have nuked a city or two and still had quite an arsenal in the basement, other states or people thought twice about messing with you.

  It was true with magic too: 'Look, I just irradiated that mountain because it looks more awesome that way. You were saying?' was a perfect way to be left alone.

  The proof before Prof pointed at either yet another Forestean got bored or some Southerner made a statement.

  Either way, rescuing valuable goods from a governmental building being out of the question, and someone, who froze a mountain pass and a guard post around, Prof came to the obvious solution.

  “Guys, I think we should reposition to somewhere, that isn’t here. We can inform the authorities on the way.”

  “Good idea, peasant. My legs are starting to get cold. You may transport me back to my carriage. Unnamed little underling, prepare my cuddle bed."

  “You know, D?nci… Eh, never mind…”

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  “Say, Prof, can we keep some deep-frozen food? Binky really likes the flavor. And we don’t even need to remove the packing.”

  “No, Mini, you can't store deep-frozen corpses in my wagon! Especially not the deep-frozen corpses of border guards! I would think, the constabulary would view it in a wrong way.”

  “What could possibly go wrong? You are already transporting a room-temperature corpse around!”

  “Mini, if the constabulary asks, why I cart you around, you could, and most certainly would annoy them to death. The two are completely different things!”

  “I don’t see the difference. You already transport corpses and walking emergency food supply, so what’s the matter?”

  “I transport one self-propelled Undead, and we aren’t emergency food supply!”

  While Prof was talking and trying to explain the difference between an Undead and stoved-for-future-consumption corpses to a deranged Vampire (who most likely knew the difference well enough, but was probably just bored), he made his exit from the guard barracks, D?nci in his arms.

  Now, if someone walks around in a frozen landscape, covered by deep snow, attention should be given to the environment. Transporting a megalomaniac Grimalkin is basically all right, but doing so while berating crazy Vampires is extremely dangerous. One could, for example, slip on an icy patch, and while trying to regain balance, tumble in the deep snow, just to faceplant into a carelessly discarded pike, hidden by the snow.

  Generally, one would have to pay extreme attention to weaponry lying around to begin with. Normally, one would expect the Sergeant screaming out his lungs, if a grunt left his AK-47 in a bar, or a brand new Greenskinian RPG-7 just walked off to harass civilians. In medieval times proper screaming and weapon-safety regulations weren’t invented, however.

  Especially, when the relevant Sergeant was already frozen solid.

  Of course, having an Agility and Dexterity of 18, and a Luck of 16 would normally help to mitigate such an unlikely situation’s unfortunate impact. Well, mainly the impact on a pike.

  However, not paying attention, carrying a magical cat, and looking back (and at) an under-dressed Vampire all meant, that a particular someone got deductions to his imaginary Stat-check.

  Two things went through Prof’s head at that very moment.

  The first was a slight regret about poor life choices, including but not limited to getting D?nci, Mini, Shinead, and Foxy on board. Not Sharpclaw or Bianca, those two were marginally sane.

  Why couldn't he stay in the started village, Smallgrovewell, learn [Alchemy] and different kinds of getting mobile woodland critters stationary and in pieces, raid the local dungeon on Sundays, and have an easy life?

  Well, cute chicks, the need for lots of money and the yearning for awesome adventures overwrote people’s thought processes everywhere in the Multiverses…

  The second was a pike.

  While the world faded into nothingness, he heard some last words from his… let’s call them friends.

  “That peasant almost crushed me! Good riddance! Unnamed miniature minion, transport me to my carriage!”

  “I actually liked him. Do you think, we could find a good necromancer around here, or should we feed the remains to Binky?”

  “I’m orphan again?”

  “Go the ssssea already?”

  Prof could have sworn, they already started bickering about who should inherit what, when he realized, he was standing in a well-known waiting room.

  Well, it wasn’t exactly the same room, with the obsolete metal-framed plastic seats, linoleum of an undefinable color, typical waiting-room colored walls, dusty decorative plants and a secretary, who should have been already in retirement when the Multiverses formed.

  It was the medieval version of the same.

  Obsolete, rickety wooden chairs, dirt floors, unpainted walls, dusty decorative plants, and a secretary, who should have been already in retirement when the Multiverses formed.

  He arrived at the government-run Afterlife Office yet again. Which government ran the office was a question, folks, who liked to work indoors, enjoyed three hot meals a day, and had an aversion to hard, physical work could debate endlessly. Such an endless debate mostly leads to job security, after all. Judging from the design and basic functionality, the office was definitely run by some kind of government. Private companies shaped their office spaces in a way, that suggested a minimum of giving-a-fuck.

  “Good morning.” Prof was still a gentleman, greeting employees when entering was polite “No need to stop with what you are doing. I already made my choice; I want to be reincarnated. I was given a nice possibility last time I was here. That’s the correct door? Cool. Take care! Goodbye!”

  Being polite was, however completely lost on the elderly woman, she didn’t glance up from her crossword puzzle… ehmm… very important official documentation she was reading. Prof just walked up to the door, threw it open, and entered.

  “Sandy? You here?" Prof really hoped, the airheaded case worker was present, and not some other, marginally competent one. Definitely not, because he wanted to kick her ass.

  “Oh, Prof! It’s, like, suuuuch a surprise!” Prof was in luck “It’s, like, half a year for you? Like, really? I’m soooooo sorry for the pike, by the way! You were, like, doing sooooo well! I enjoyed watching!”

  “Yeah, thanks. Say, Sandy, last time you offered me this cushy reincarnation in some Galactic Empire’s HR department. That still on the table?”

  “Ooooh! Adventures in deep space! Starships! Different alien species! It’s, like, soooooo awesome! I actually know the System Administrator for that Universe! She is, like, sooooo nice! Well, she doesn’t have a System installed, but that Universe is, like, sooooo much fun! You sure, you want to go there?”

  “Yeah. A change of scenery is what I need right now. I will keep my appearance if it's ok. WAIT! Do they have Humans there?!"

  “Sure! Humans are, like, everywhere! You know, there was this philosopher from… somewhere, who said, Humans are like Viruses. Or rats? One of the two! So, it’s, like…”

  “Good, good. Anything I need to know? Heh, who I'm kidding. I'm going to work in HR, and there is nothing to know there. I will probably have all the time to read up on the goings. You may send me on my way. Thanks and bye!"

  Rushing his reincarnation probably wasn't the best idea, he had in the last two lifetimes (even if the second was only six months or so), but he was a quick learner. For example, he learned, Sandy was absolutely incompetent, and asking her anything was a waste of time. Besides, what could possibly go wrong?

  Without further notice, one second he was there, the next second not.

  This time, no strategically placed sheep greeted him, but shrill emergency klaxons screaming their electrical organs… pieces out.

  “What the…?” Prof just had enough time to admire his new, very stylish black uniform with nice, colorful stuff on it, when a guy in the same stylish uniform, but with fewer decorations – meaning, he was probably a subaltern, and not an officer, like Prof obviously was – looked inside the office, Prof was the sole occupant of.

  “Sir! Those evil terrorists just blew up the main reactor! The Emperor was slain by an assassin! We are evacuating! Come! Come! The closest lifepod is just around the corner! Hurry up, Sir!”

  Prof slumped into his office chair, close to crying.

  “Seriously? Are you kidding me?!?! WHY?!?!??”