Adam sat silently before the bonfire, slowly turning a stick-struck potato above the fiery embers, roasting himself a dinner.
The camp in which the fire burned was located on a slope of a somewhat high hill, towering above the plain full of bushes covered under a slim layer of snow, yet with a scarce amount of trees in sight.
On the other side of the hill, a major road carried travellers through the massive Pruinian fields, stretching to the horizon without any sign of stopping.
While the fire was hidden from the most oblivious onlookers by the hill the envoys set their camp on, the tents and few horse heads were clearly seen above the rise's top - Fenfallal, in his calm paranoia, prepared them for an attack by giving them as much of a height advantage as he could.
Though, after visiting the Northern Overseer, most of the warriors relaxed considerably, having seen the state of the Empire, and that their team, while small could have a slim chance at taking on the whole garrison of a city such as Northern Overseer.
Of course, Northern Overseer was somewhat an outlier, while being a big, major city, it was located so deep into the imperial lands that there was little to no possibility of it being attacked.
The beasts on the plains were territorial and rarely left their scraps of land in search of a powerful foe, thus the city felt nature's wrath very rarely.
The Southern Hegemon, Semainet's Court, a theocracy ruling lands far, far away from the Fire Mountains, which acts as Pruinos Empire's grand enemy, their ever-hated foe whose armies clash on the riverbanks with Pruinian knights and warmages. The horror of every young boy is far too far to invade the Northern Overseer.
As for the barbarians living behind the Fire Mountains' veil... they are just legend, cursed demons that brought the Pruinain into a neverending war might have all starved in the lands behind the mountains for all the Pruinians know.
Here, it would be useful to mention that a small number of imperial citizens knew about the barbarian's existence, and traded with them from time to time, yet, they never informed the imperial court about them. Or the Emperor just let the barbarians be, having deemed them unworthy of his attention.
Anyway, the point is: the envoys would have a slim chance of being attacked by anyone near powerful enough to endanger them, yet Fenfallal didn't abandon making as much as he could to fortify their encampment.
Back to the spinning potato.
Adam sat there, deep in thought and spun the stick, while the embers licked his dinner from time to time, bit by bit, bringing the roasted potato to that perfect state, when the insides are soft and hellishly hot, and the outsides are hard, like a bowl for the soft parts.
A bit of salt, maybe some other spices and butter, and the normal, unextraordinary potato would change into a culinary masterpiece.
"Hmmm... Potato." A voice came from Adam's side.
"Indeed, indeed... potato." The young mage responded and returned to his considerations.
It felt weird to be in a city for a week and not hear about any mage for the entire duration, especially after living as one for nearly half a year during which he got quite accustomed to the treatment he received as such a person.
Going back to being treated as everyone else was, wasn't hard, humiliating or other things that one might think about being essentially degraded to a lower social class, but it was bothering for a while before he got used to it.
What bothered him more though, was the absolute ban on using magic in public, which by the way was the main reason behind their scam being a complete lie, instead of just an exaggerated price.
During the travels from the Fire Mountains, Adam mostly focused on training his arcane magic, creating shields, manipulating them into different shapes and sizes, and even some practical exercises with his companions, during which they threw stones at him and he deflected the projectiles in such a way that the stone would not hit him after the barrier inevitably shattered - which mostly involved choosing the right location and angle of impact, one that maximises the deflection.
Apart from focusing on his main element, to kill the boredom and stray away from mostly monotonous exercises, the young mage finally developed a spell using nature mana, one that invigorates the plants and gives the vegetables their youth and freshness anew.
[Refresh], he named it.
Now, let's return to the potatoes at hand.
The potatoes, refreshed by the [Refresh], started to smell lovely, hanging above the blazing embers and enticing the ones holding these sticks to retreat into the shadows and consume the divine fruits of the earth.
"Hmm, should we make some for Stellmo? He is bound to come any minute." The voice said once again, breaking Adam's focus off of the mighty vegetable impaled on a stick.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
"Maybe, maybe not. Though I would rather leave it to him, if he wants he can do it in a matter of seconds, after all." Using precise fire manipulation in cooking was the biggest incentive for Adam to pick up on fire magic. But to develop the skills necessary was too much of a commitment for the young mage right now, thus he delayed his delve into the fire, if he even could do that in the first place.
"Nah, he would burn it into a black abomination. Stellmo isn't to be trusted with food," Tensyn's face tensed in seriousness. "Remember never to leave the kitchen duty to him, it will only bring a disaster." The warrior sternly advised.
"Suspicious, but okay I guess," Adam replied, pinking up another potato from the basket. Before impaling it on a stick, he infused the vegetable with his mana, previously altered into the Nature Mana, and spread it evenly inside the thing, restoring its planty youth.
"Is a fire-bending warrior immune to burns?" Adam hushly asked no one in particular, into the void.
'No one answers, in that case... May the Hot Potato decide...'
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Soon, the sound of hooves striking the road, without the usual accompaniment screeching of wheels, reached the ears of the warriors sitting around a campfire, enjoying the evening sky and talking amongst themselves while their potatoes ascended to divinity above the embers.
The Rider approached rapidly before it was easily discernable from the sound that he stopped for a moment on the other side of the hill, probably wondering if it was the camp he was looking for.
"Sellmo?" Gravis shouted over his shoulder, hoping that the stray traveller was the Swordmaster's second in command.
"OH!" The rider picked up the pace once more and climbed over the hill to the envoy's camp.
In a hurry, Stellmo jumped down from his horse and quickly walked over to the fire.
"I think there is a master warrior following me from the city. Do we run? Or should I fight? - They already know of me being a master." The whole gathering felt as if Stellmo dropped an anvil on their head with those words, no one expected to hear such things that day.
"How are you sure it's a master?" Felfallal asked the most dire question, leaving things like 'How were you discovered', and 'what happened' for later.
Stellmo looked over his shoulder and then responded.
"There is one horseman, chasing after me some distance away - I tried to lose them between the hills, but they always appeared some distance behind me eventually, also, I don't believe there is someone who would try to hunt me down without being a master in the first place after what I have done in the city..." The fiery swordsman's eyes glowed in red as he explained - probably a reflection from the fire, but who knows?
Fenfallal was the first one to stand up and move next to Stellmo on the hill's peak.
After Adam joined them, he too noticed a horseback rider galloping their way on the road between the hills.
"You think you can take whoever it is on?" Fenfallal asked, returning once again to his usual calm demeanour.
"If I can go all out, I am pretty sure - they mustn't be exceptional, otherwise they wouldn't be able to stay in such a remote place," Stellmo commented, touching an important point - the warrior stationed in a city so far away from the frontlines couldn't possibly be very powerful.
But on the other hand, a master's status speaks volumes - there are no weak masters.
"What do you think Algier? Do we risk it, or do we run?" Fefallal asked the wind mage, who was the one to decide in the end.
The tall man was silent for a moment, thinking about his answer.
"Either we leave everything behind and run - eventually clashing with the hunter, and maybe exposing the whole group's fighting power, or we leave the fight in Stellmo's hands, here and now." He took a deep breath and brushed his hair from obscuring his vision. "You will fight, and kill - if you fail, we won't have a choice but to step in." Saying that he turned to the black-haired warrior, whose eyes sparked with a willing flame.
Adam flinched hearing that the quickly approaching warrior's fate had been decided, but he did nothing - there was no point, no reason apart from his conscience.
But he had other things to say.
"Maybe play our saviour, and let him escape? That would make them less wary of us." The young mage proposed.
Stellmo didn't look very pleased by the idea.
"But they will know everything about me!" He replied, fighting off the junior's proposal.
"He has got a point, you know," Algier interjected.
"I know, but isn't that a managable tradeoff?" Adam stood his ground.
"It is, I meant that you have a point, not Stellmo" The wind mage expanded his statement, then turned to the warrior and continued, "Let the attacker escape, while we will play the damsels in distress." He ordered.
Stellmo probably felt used, betrayed and laughed at, or at least that's what his face revealed.
Anyway, the rider was getting dangerously close, so Adam, Fenfallal, Algier and the rest of the warriors backed out from the peak of the hill, hiding behind it only to peak over it and see how the stand-off unfolded.
While they did that, Stellmo walked over to his horse and got his weapons from the saddle, a short sword and a medium-sized triangular shield. Apart from them, he also picked up his helm.
Fully armoured and ready to battle, the fiery warrior stepped forward and waited for the opponent to arrive on the hill's side - with a high-ground advantage.
Soon, the rider was within earshot, and the clapping of hooves against the cobbled road filled the ears of the spectators, and the fiery warrior's opponent was finally visible.
Sitting high on a huge, onyx horse - a woman in full armour hunched over, nearly hugging the steed neck.
The woman's hair flung around wildly, around her chest hidden under a full-plated armour with shoulder guards that looked as if they were a size too big for the slim figure of the mounted warrior.
She was still far away, but it was clear that the green-ish armour must have been expensive - it was luxuriously decorated with marks and embroidery that could as well be runes - with purpose unknown.
In her hand, a long polearm with both a slim blade on the side and a poking spearhead. The weapon hunk in the air, ready to attack.
When the lady was only a few moments away from reaching Stellmo's position, the black-haired warrior stepped forward and shouted righteously.
"I will NOT let you hurt my friends!!! Begone evil witch! Leave us alone or face MY WRATH!!!" Stellmo raised both his arms to the air and looked up while shouting at the approaching horsewoman.
In the next second, the warrior exploded with flame, like a mighty bonfire on Warm Hearts Day.
Or a burning potato, like the one he was supposed to eat - forgotten and lost in the embers of the campfire a few metres away.