“Adam, we should gift the tribesfolk a sack of flour,” Jurot said upon his return.

“Sure,” Adam replied, leaving Jurot to deal with it. He wasn’t going to get involved with the tribesfolk, understanding there was something between them and the Iyr.

The group butchered the birdcats and duabears. They set up an area in the expanded section of the outpost they had formed slowly as the days had passed, leaving the various parts to dry out. The mages within the group spent some time using their magics to speed up the process.

“Adam, you used so much magic, you should rest,” Jaygak said, patting the half elf’s shoulder.

“I’m not that tired yet.”

“If you don’t start relaxing, we won’t be able to relax either,” Jaygak stated, motioning her head to the Iyrmen who were still in the process of butchering, most of whom were still wounded from the battle.

“Right…”

Eventually, Adam retreated to Korin, assisting him with the meal, along with the farmers.

“Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Adam said, chopping the potatoes they had bought in Red Oak.

“Yes,” Rick replied, his eyes falling onto Adam. If the young half elf was asking about the weather, something must have been on his mind.

“…” Adam said no more, however, his thoughts elsewhere.

“Adam,” Jeremy called, walking over to the young half elf. “About the business…”

“Yes?”

“You said our partners’d be able to join, they’d be taken care of, they’d be paid, that and all.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“My mother and father, they’re getting on in their years. Pa’s been taking more time off from work, but he’s still able to work. Ma’s still spry as ever, but her eyes aren’t what they used to be, and sometimes she needs to sleep more. I was wonderin’ if the business would be able to take care of them.”

“Ah,” Adam replied, furrowing his brows in thought. “I’ll think about it once the outbreak is over.”

Jeremy bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“It’s good food for thought,” Adam replied. As he watched Jeremy leave, Adam felt something in his stomach churn. “Jeremy.”

“Yes, boss?”

“I’ll uh…” Adam paused for a moment, feeling the gazes of the farmers. “I have no doubt the business will take in your parents, I just don’t know what the conditions would be.”

“I’m sure it’ll be a fair price.”

Adam couldn’t help but to smile. “Well, I try.” Jeremy’s compliment had filled Adam with a gentle warmth, the kind of joy he received when his children complimented him.

Rick exchanged a look with his companions, before returning back to assisting Korin with the meal.

“I won’t put in too many spices, I know how you Aldishmen are,” Korin promised, flashing an innocent smile.

“That’s mighty kind of you,” John replied, flashing a charming smile in response. He and Ivy had responded worst to the spices, unable to handle more than the tiniest amount, something which caused Korin to separate the soups midway through cooking, pouring some out for the Aldishmen with soft tongues.

The last of the archers, Brittany, stared out along the horizon, on watch duty while the others worked within the outpost. She clutched her deadwood bow tight in hand. ‘Deadwood…’ The thought of wielding a deadwood bow had been something only found within her dreams, but she had wielded the bow for so long now. She had only just recalled how ridiculous it was for someone like her, a random village girl, to wield such a bow. Deadwood, like red oak, was one of the greatest woods across the entirety of Aldland.

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‘I’m an Expert…’ The thought stunned her at least once a month. Even though she had gained the status the previous year, she hadn’t been able to use her skills to much effect. Yet, today, she had felt it. When she steadied herself, her arrows flew true and struck deep. She was no Nobby, that was for certain, but she could fire the bow like no one else within the camp

“Okay?” Nobby asked, stepping onto the wall, assisting her watch.

“I’m fine.”

The pair stood in silence for a long while as they watched out across the horizon.

“You really think I’ll be able to do it?” Brittany asked, unsure if she could rise greater than an Expert, or if she should.

“…” Nobby continued to stare out into the distance. He had travelled for so long with Fate’s Golden, and had seen so many unbelievable things. Then came the previous year, where they had come across a terrifying foe who essentially faced against all the young Iyrmen, the farmers, Nobby, and Jonn, simultaneously, and beat them. Nobby had almost died in the confrontation, and though he had managed to trap Umbra for a moment, his body had taken too much of a beating, and he had fallen.

Adam, too, found Umbra difficult to face, and if not for the timely intervention of four of the strongest members of Fate’s Golden, he surely would have died too. And yet, Umbra was still not in the top five strongest beings Nobby had met thus far.

“You can,” Nobby replied. “Will you?”

“…”

Amira stared out from atop the wall, taking in the sight of the horizon. This horizon was very different to the horizon in Aswadasad. The land of the Aldishmen was so green, whereas the land in Aswadasad was grey and gold.

“You are from Rock Hill?” Amira asked.

“Aye,” Fred replied from the other side of the wall.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Aye.”

“Terrible business, that.”

“Aye.”

Amira glanced his way for a moment before she returned back to staring out in the distance. “Born a farmer?”

“Aye.”

“What did you farm?”

“The land.”

“Any particular crop?”

“Wheat,” Fred said, before quickly continuing, “and peaches.”

“Peaches?”

“The best peaches.”

Amira slowly nodded her head. “I’m sure you did.”

“Aye. They weren’t very big, pa said they’re sweeter when they’re small. Sometimes ma’d make wine with the peaches, but sometimes we could sell them to the merchants or nobles for some pretty silver.”

“Jurot likes his peaches too, I’ve seen.”

“No offence to the Rot family, but their peaches ain’t as good as those we grew,” Fred replied, smiling slightly.

“In Black Mountain, there’s a tree which grows berries, all kinds of berries. Yellowberries, pinkberries, and blackberries. The best are greyberries, right before they become blackberries. You have to check daily, because they’re only grey for a day, but there’s something about that day which makes them so juicy. You can pluck them and keep them for a while too. You could not find such a great delicacy even in Dakun Manzil.”

“Dakun Manzil?”

“The Great House,” Amira informed.

“Ah,” Fred replied, slowly nodding his head. “I’m sure they don’t have my pa’s peaches neither.”

“Should they be so lucky,” Amira replied.

“Peaches in the Iyr ain’t so bad, though.”

“No, they aren’t.”

“Must be all the blood in the soil,” Fred joked.

Amira coughed, covering her mouth, trying her best not to laugh. She threw the young Aldishman a look, before her eyes veered off to the side to find Dunes approaching the pair.

“Fred, you’re being called to eat,” Dunes said, motioning his head back to the centre of the outpost.

Fred cleared his throat, nodding his head to the pair of Aswadians, before making his way to eat. “Thank you.”

Dunes replied with a bow of his head, making his way up the wall, glancing towards Amira for a moment. “What’s so funny?”

“Aldishmen are outrageous,” Amira replied, still smiling.

“Yes?” Dunes replied, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“I would not make such jokes about the Iyrmen.”

“What was the joke?”

She shook her head, for the time had passed. “Aldland is so green.”

“Aswadsad is gold and Aldland is green,” Dunes stated. “It has been so since Aswadasad was Aswadasad and Aldland was Aldland.”

“It was so when Aswadasad was Aswabayad,” Amira corrected.

“Yes,” Dunes relented. “So it was.”

“The land is too cold.”

“They say Aswadasad is too hot.”

“The Aldish say many things.”

Dunes smiled. “So they do.”

“Why are you pretending to be smart?”

“It is because I know so many things you do not, and you are pretending to know many things you do not.”

“Do not think I won’t beat you, Morn.”

Dunes chuckled upon hearing his first name. “Amira, should you be so lucky. I am more powerful than I have ever been, and with this blade at my side, not even you could defeat me.”

Amira’s eyes fell to Dunes’ sword, which was so aptly named. “You are so fortunate to have ingratiated yourself with the Enchanter.”

“So I have.”

Amira raised her brows, causing the young Aswadian man to chuckle. “Even with that sword of yours, I could beat you still.”

“Once we return back to Red Oak, we can check.”

“What’s the use of beating you?” Amira replied, dropping the matter.

“It is too cold,” Dunes said. “I must get used to it, for I will work at the business.”

“What trouble are you thinking to cause? You are a member of Black Mountain. A Priest of Black Mountain, Dunes.”

“I’ve a debt to repay,” Dunes replied.

Amira inhaled deeply, letting out a long sigh. “Oh, Dunes…”

Dunes smiled, though there was little joy within his eyes. “I’ve given him my word.”

“What of your word to Black Mountain?”

“I will repay those debts too.”

Amira said no more, since it was not the time nor place to speak of such matters. “Are you certain you are not in love with him?”

“Perhaps I should beat you once we are in Red Oak?”

Amira smiled.