Michael walked down the road heading south toward the Lake of Beasts with Davi, Tai, Finnegan, Clara, and a dozen or so others that he’d had yet to formally meet. They were headed for the remaining rift that the twins had been unable to seal. The group was small, but elite, having been chosen by the twins themselves.It was a little after midday, and Michael had fallen into the quiet rhythm of walking mindlessly, listening to the clank of his armor as he moved. He frowned, realizing that his chestplate wasn’t quite tight enough, he whispered “corto” to tighten it and rolled his shoulders a bit to make sure it was on properly. Gurndan had made a few more modifications that went a bit beyond the basic repair he’d initially requested. He felt like he had a bit more mobility, but it felt off. He probably just needed to get used to it.“Did you just say corto to tighten your armor?” asked Alvarez, a taker scout with a bow slung over his shoulder.“Uh, yeah.”“Why would you pick that word?” he asked.“Uh, it means short right? So I picked it because I’m shortening the straps.”Alvarez frowned and put a head in his hand. “What, did you only take spanish one oh one in school?”“I mean… I got to one oh two, but not much further than that. And that was maybe forty years ago.”Alvarez shook his head. “And this old cracker is who we’re relying on for healing?”“Hey, hey. He’s a wonderful cracker,” said Davi smiling. “And aren’t you Guatemalan? Can you even call what you speak language?”Alvarez snorted. “You have absolutely no room to talk.”Michael shook his head. This wasn’t the first time Alvarez had critiqued his Spanish. Luckily, magic relied more on his interpretation of how it represented the spell rather than the meaning because, as Alvarez had now pointed out a dozen times, he had made some baffling choices in some cases.They reached a small clearing with signs of previous (...)