The campfire crackled under a setting sky while the Paladin carefully cut the Torriboar's loin into slices. Georgie patiently walked a circle around the camp, dripping spoonfuls of liquid on the dirt. He occasionally looked up at the Paladin as he prepared cooking the beast. He unwrapped a pan from his bag, along with a standing stove. One by one he pulled an assortment of spice shakers, and a metal clasped wooden box. The knight looked content, proud even of the collection. Georgie had nearly started a second lap around the circle. He returned to the fire, scratching a mosquito off his ear watching the hero work.

"That should shield our scent for the next few hours," he said, sitting on his bedroll. "As well as whatever you're making. Is that a frost box?"

"I never come here without it," said the Paladin as he opened the box to reveal a stick of butter and a fine cut of brie cheese. The butter melted in the pan, making a sizzling bed for the meat. "Do you like rosemary? I'm debating what to use."

"I'm fine," Georgie gently denied the offer. From his bag, he pulled a red apple for dinner. "Though, I didn't expect you to have so many powders and fixings."

The vendor was disarmed, looking back at the Paladin completely transfixed on the apple. As if he viewed the thing like a long lost relative. Georgie had seen this face towards inanimate objects before, he had done it himself many times.

"Wait," the Paladin asked with twitching fingers. "Your apple gives me an idea. If you humor me, you won't regret it."

He quickly selected five shakers from the bundle and seasoned two thick slices of boar. The sizzling pan burst and popped as the fat touched the pan.

"Salt and pepper for taste," the Paladin explained. "Then brown sugar and honey flakes for sweetness that'll make the garlic powder buttery. Pork goes amazing with apples, so that and the cheese I have would tie the whole thing together!"

Georgie paused skeptically but saw intensity in the knight's eyes. Not of aggression, but inspiration. His soul burned in sync with the fire itself, wafting an admittedly flavorful scent in the man's face. Georgie could smell the passion for the Paladin's experiment, and the results became interesting to him as well. Curiosity had won, and Georgie tossed the apple at the Paladin.

"Knock yourself out."

As the meat cooked on one side for three to four minutes, the focused hero used his time well. He chopped the apple thin and removed The centers with precision to make them rings. He flipped the boar and turned attention to a round loaf of bread still in his bag. He cut four slices and spread the brie evenly on the top halves.

"It'd be nice if we had some greens," said the Paladin as he laid the readied pork on the bread. "Something hardy and subtle."

"Something like," Georgie's eyebrow raised, reaching slowly into his satchel. "Arugula?"

"Exactly," he smiled at the understanding while placing the apple rings. "The nuttiness would be perfect."

With that, Georgie decided to indulge the man further, and offered up his own frost box. One slightly bigger and labeled, Property of Georgie Galmot of Potion's & Parcels. Inside the box, the Paladin's jaw nearly tasted the dirt at the slight of ridiculously abundant amount of arugula.

"There's so much!" He exclaimed at the absurdity. "W-why?"

"To make healing potions," the brewer shrugged. "Calcium, potassium, magnesium, enzymes for digestion. I need other stuff to bolster the benefits, but it's a good base and plentiful in Lazlo."

"I had no idea arugula was in healing potions," the Paladin dressed the sandwich with the leaves.

"Not always," Georgie corrected while taking his sandwich. "You can use other ingredients if they offer the same properties. Spinach and cherries could work if you add enough stalwart salt. That's why healing potions are so common."

Their teeth simultaneously bit into the bread, and Georgie entered a state of shock. He thought hard for the last time he had something so enriched, juicy and flavorful. He was lost in a maelstrom long lasting sweetness and lingering spice.

"Woah," he gasped a little. "That's actually really good."

"I know," the Paladin chewed his sandwich with a tearful pride. "The brie is so creamy, it's fusing to all the spices. It's like fate made sure you would have these ingredients, just for this meal!"

The two enjoyed their sandwiches as the night sky settled. The stars made themselves known, and the Paladin took notice. He stared up at those distant lights, wondering if anything had changed in all the years he devoted to looking ahead. It was a fine night to make something new. Georgie watched the culinary swordsman eating with his own thoughts, and usually that would be the best-case scenario when dealing with unwanted company. However, that sandwich peaked Georgie's interest more than expected.

"You're surprisingly talented," He admitted. "Do you part-time as a chef or something?"

"A chef?" The Paladin said surprised through his eating. "Really? Nah, just a hobby. My training regimen was always so tight, I didn't have much free time. With cooking, I could have fun while staying on schedule."

He said that like he picked the hobby up a month ago, but the perfect ratio of arugula said otherwise. No, this level of skill had to have been molded over time; with well spent years to refine.

"That demon," he inquired. "You two are in a prophecy, right?"

The Paladin's jaw halted. Reality set back in and he nodded. He wiped a thumb across the corners of his mouth while his eyes settled back to dutiful.

"Yes," he answered, staring down at his unnamed creation. "For three hundred years, my people were awaiting the day, a child would be born with the power to defeat Corvolos the day he resurfaced. Back in the 9th Age, the Holy Swordsman, Rada was unable to defeat him, but he could-"

"Seal him," Georgie finished the thought. "And you were born with an affinity for radiant magic just around the corner of the seal's expiration date."

"Well, there's more to how Rada created the seal and-"

"Stop," The vendor repeatedly flicked his wrist while taking a bite of boar. "That's not relevant (and boring). How long have you been training to fight this guy?"

"I guess," he pondered for a moment. "Since I was 5 years old?"

"And how old are you?"

"26."

"21 years," Georgie rubbed the back of his neck. "That's so unfortunate."

Since before the Paladin could master two syllable words, the people of his village, Sall, would fill the boy's ears with them. They'd say things like, "it's the Chosen One," and "we're rooting for you, hero!" To most, this would infect someone with a big head, but the young man was humble. He would watch the citizens of Sall living their lives at ease, despite the ill omen his birth signified. They feared nothing, free to stitch fabric, tan leather, and cook; all because the Paladin was there. He was proud to see those people so free. "Unfortunate" was not a word he would ever consider.

"How?" Asked the Paladin, his patience being tested once again. "How is protecting my home and people 'unfortunate?' It's not like I have much of a choice."

"Protecting people is fine," Georgie cleared his throat mid swallow. "That's just a lot of your own time to sacrifice."

The hero's blonde eyebrows furrowed, and nostrils flared. He was beginning to have regrets making his vow to travel with this passive aggressive cynic. Georgie may have saved him, but his brazenness was boarding on a jerk at that point.

"I'm proud to have made that sacrifice," He asserted. "What about you? What kind of potion is potentially worth your life?"

"Oh yeah," Georgie remembered never mentioning any details of his commission. "It's a hair tonic."

Aside from the crackling campfire, the night went silent at the end of those words. Even the wind ceased into a stunned silence in solidarity of the Paladin's disbelief in what he had just heard. Surely, he misheard.

"Wh- what?" His asked with his bottom lip quivering. "But you said you'd be dead if you didn't get the feathers..."

"Well yeah," Georgie replied without hesitation. "My rent is due in 2 weeks, and this commission is worth 40 Gold! The client is rich and has a reunion coming up, so he's desperate. It's a win-win scenario."

The hero of destiny was left completely appalled. Even a lesser demon with simple claws and teeth would be enough to make a man run. Corvolos was nothing close to simple. An arrogant man would have been humbled by now to the danger. A fool would have already died, but Georgie was something different, and the Paladin finally figured out what he was.

"You're insane," he rose in a snap, looking down at Georgie's nonplussed face, nearly finishing his sandwich while the Paladin couldn't even eat. "All of this for some snake oil remedy and money? You are absolutely insane!"

"Snake oil?"

Georgie stood to meet the Paladin's eyes. Where one looked dumbfounded and mad, the potion brewer was just angry. His boots firmly planted into the dirt with a fist clenched for punctuation. The tension thickened the air around them, enough to even warm the cold blood of the dead Torriboar. The audacity of this knight to say something so insulting to the man who saved his life. Georgie didn't even ask for his company, and he called him crazy?

"If I made snake oil," he squinted into the Paladin's soul. "I wouldn't be here. This is my job, my business, and I'm not gonna let some roadblocks get in the way of doing it."

"A roadblock?" The knight questioned with a gasp. "This is life and death!"

"For you," Georgie sneered. "But not all of us are adventurers with a higher calling. The rest of us have bills to pay, mouths to feed. I know at least ten different ingredients that could do the job, but that's not what I want."

"But why?"

Georgie rolled his eyes as well as his sleeping mat. Aggressively, he slung the messenger bag over his shoulder. The Paladin watched stunned as Georgie delivered the final chomp of defiance onto the last corner of his meal before leaving.

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"The same reason you have all those spices," He finally answered, looking back with a cold disdain. "The same reason you wanted my apple."

The Paladin looked down at his sandwich. The night had felt peaceful just a moment ago, like Corvolos didn't exist. Behind the chosen one's mind, this had always been the case. Whenever he was able to try something new on his lunch breaks, the young man would vigorously study the taste and spend his evenings attempting to replicate it for dinner. Even when his body was broken down by weight training and battles with beasts of the land. He needed that brief time where flavor profiles outweighed the duty born on his shoulders. Could he have made something that good himself? Could he have possibly made something better?

"Georgie," he called under his shaking. A weakness and anger built inside the Paladin thar he had never felt before. Looking on at the young vendor preparing to walk away without fear into the dark unknown with only vials at his side. Was it frustration? Jealousy? Why? Even so, he couldn't let that allow him to be at risk. "Please... don't go out there alone."

Georgie stopped in place, Keeping his back at the pleading warrior. Maintaining sight on the night ahead.

"I still have some Manticore urine," he said stolidly. "I'll make camp somewhere else. I can't waste any more time."

That stuff around camp is Manticore urine? The Paladin thought.

"And neither should you." Georgie continued walking off, leaving the Paladin alone with his thoughts.

When would Corvolos would strike next? Could he find and kill him before Georgie could get hurt? Would just another beast of the folly take him anyway? Would it be right to let him die if it meant Sall was secure? Did Georgie really mean what he said? The Paladin grabbed the remaining half of his sandwich, taking a bite to silence the noise and wondered if he there would be time in the morning to make candied bacon.

. . .

Get the Hells out of here...

Why are you doing this?

You always work hard,

Georgie...

I'M SORRY!

Don't leave now!

And don't look back.

You know he's not well!

Georgie!

SO STUPID!

I wanted...

Can you see?

To be like you.

Georgie?

Yellow eyes flickered open to the green tinted shade within Georgie's hat, rested on his face. The skin of his hands warmed as the desert chill of night vanished to the rising sun. With a groggy sigh, the young man arose from his mat. The ring of Manticore waste was laid on a sizable plain within the mountains that had very little coverage, but Cacti to refill and scattered airberry bushes Georgie could use to make a caffeinated tea.

He readjusted the cap over his unkempt mop and got to work on his morning concoction. With clean cactus water preparing to boil, Georgie lazily staggered around the circle. He had planted four 12-inch nails before bed in different edges of the ring, holding down rope that stretched 15-feet outside camp. Before the Paladin had cooked the night before, Georgie had made sure to collect pieces of the Torriboar for bait. Stead Vultures may have been known as formidable hunters, but they were also opportunistic. If two beasts of Corv's Folly fought to the death, a nearby monarchy would not hesitate to swarm for two meals. So, Georgie had taken the measure of marinating his pieces of pork in doze powder.

He pulled the first rope, and the meat was covered in numerous Gray Back Ants, moving sluggish and dazed. He pulled the second rope obscured by bushes, and a sleeping Executioner Scorpion the size of a cat was dragged along. The meat on the third and fourth ropes came back mangled. One was torn by teeth, and the other had been picked apart.

With a cup of tea, Georgie investigated for the unconscious animals. Obviously, a Stead Vulture didn't leave teeth marks, but the effects of doze powder could last less time depending on the creature's size. He strolled in the fourth rope's direction, blowing on his drink as two twitching Dagger Toothed Salamanders entered sight. He dripped repellent in a horseshoe shape to direct then lizards away from the camp when they woke up. Finally, the fourth rope led to talon scraped earth and a single black feather planted.

"Well," Georgie raised his foot to step before slowly retracting. "You must think I'm stupid."

With that, the feather disintegrated, and the ground cracked. Rising from the earth was a corrupted vulture with a beak chipped into a hideous smile. Its warped wings pawed at the earth Like it was splashing water at Georgie's feet. A snicker of entertainment reverberated the tunnel the demon came from.

"Impressive human..." The vulture hummed in Corvolos's voice. "I was expecting you to be blinded by greed."

"Almost," shrugged Georgie. "But from what I read, a real Stead Vulture would have broken the rope and left with the meat. And one feather left perfectly behind? Don't insult me."

"HYAK!" The monster cackled. "Indeed, I underestimated you, human! You may prove useful to me after all!"

However, this fell on deaf ears as the young brewer was on his way back to camp. The bird vessel snarled at the disregard. This frail primate had called him a nuisance and now he walks away, drinking tea? Corvolos straightened his neck like a spear, aiming at Georgie's back. Propelled by agitated wings, the vulture was launched.

"PETULANT BOY!" Screamed the demon. "I'LL PICK YOU APART!"

With one blow of his tea, Georgie sidestepped left of the barreling bird with a twirl. Corvolos curved the vulture's wing to turn but collided with the campfire and knocked over the tea kettle and stove. The corpse's tail feathers were set ablaze, spastically rolling sparks onto a cactus. The zombified fowl's head settled rattling at the sight of the spilled kettle, pouring tea and a two-inch fang.

"A tooth?"

"Feline Reflex," Georgie briefly explained, sipping his tea. "That kettle and stove cost me 73 Silver. Why are you bothering me?"

"IMPUDENT WRETCH!" Cawed the demon. "You dare misdirect me with simple parlor magic!"

"I don't do magic," the potion brewer said with a cold stare of contempt. "Airberries are a natural source of caffeine and vitamin c..."

Corvolos wailed as the vulture's neck elongated at young man's heart. Georgie's pupils dilated wide like an alert cat. He knew there would be a risk of running into dangerous wildlife with his trap. Georgie made sure to research Corv's Folly heavily before coming there. He knew that finding that plain of berry bushes gave the brewer an advantage avoiding danger. Before the beak could touch his overalls, Georgie had pounced over the mutant vulture head. Aiming for proper ground to run, his wrist turned splashing tea on the back of the demon's long neck

"Thanks to stalwart salt and binder root," he continued his dry explanation, landing again on the vulture's left. "The caffeinated berries and feline DNA can properly meld and enhance their traits."

Georgie made a dash for his messenger bag. The demon puppet extended a wing and fired multiple feathers to puncture the unarmed cretin a dozen over. Georgie bobbed and weaved past the projectile plumage. He could not risk any dives or jumps to his bag or else he would become a flying target.

"Parlor magic," he thought. Every dodge, another step closer to the strap. Despite the rapid movement, his yellow cat eyes stayed on target. "Snake Oil." Nobody respects good craftsmanship.

A feather came straight towards his temple and had to duck. A black bolt of pain flew across the fabric and skin of Georgie's right calf, sending him lower to the ground. As he fell, another feather shot into the shoulder, and the volley had abruptly ended. Georgie's ears were alerted to the oncoming rumble from behind. Corvolos, was retracting the vulture's head, bending backwards for a decisive snap down onto the human's back. The bird's crooked smile cracked and contorted, protruding serrated teeth from the rim of the beak. The Paladin was his only threat, so Corvolos could never allow a magicless animal from an inferior species speak to him so nonchalantly!

"COME TO ME," His jagged maw opened wide. "MY FLESH!"

This prideful act gave Georgie the time he needed to force whatever muscle lied in his left leg to tighten. He launched himself with a desperate leap, grabbing the satchel as his body is knocked a yard away by the sheer force of the vulture's cheekbone colliding with him. Thanks to his tea, Georgie was able to land on his feet and planted himself standing with his good arm in the bag.

"I don't do magic," he defiantly stated to the exposed vulture neck. From his bag, Georgie pulled a round glass bottle of a swirling glittery liquid of white and blue. "It's alchemy."

The sun reflected off the tea on the monster's neck, and Georgie remembered one of the greatest pieces of advice he had ever received.

Remember, a little girl's raspy voice came to mind. Always throw where the target is going, not where it is.

His aim was true, and he hurled the spherical glass nearly the exact spot Georgie needed it to go. With a shatter, the potion touched the tea covering the bird's skin, and crystals of ice started consuming the demon's throat.

"GYAK," Corvolos hissed. A frost potion?

"You're already making my job harder," Georgie rose from the ground, his right leg shaking under his weight. In his hand was a rock, and his eyes were fed up. "You've probably already taken care of the Stead Vultures here."

Corvolos Forced the stunned head to cackle. The sound was uninterrupted by the ice, as it was a soul of pure evil speaking through the crumbling beak.

"I just ate one this morning. You see, when I consu-"

There was a shatter, and a rock passed through the frosted neck. The head fell gracelessly into the dirt while the vulture's body slowly began disintegrating. Georgie approached the head as it kept chuckling at Georgie's annoyance.

"I don't care," he growled, his hat shielded any light in his disturbed gaze. "It's morning, and I'm already tired. You people just won't leave me alone and you keep making things harder than they're supposed to be."

"Then run while you can," Corvolos threatened with only a head to use. "I have consumed nearly every monarchy of Stead Vulture this side of the mountain! Soon, I will be able to spread my vessels in higher quantities to pick off the rest."

"Come on," Georgie gritted. "It's stupid to think you'll get to do that. You're a part of a prophecy bird brain. You're destined to fail, so just wait to die and leave everyone else out of it!"

"HYAK!" Bellowed the head. "The Chosen One didn't tell you! That maggot Rada did not possess fate magic strong enough to write my demise. Only my return and a battle that will follow."

For some reason, hearing this made Georgie think of the Paladin's sandwich. The dedication to campfire food, the look of bliss across the hero's face eating it. Was that because it could be the last?

With cooking, he remembered the Paladin's words. I could have fun while staying on schedule.

"Georgie," Corvolos went on. "That's your name? Run while you can Georgie, because you will be my next meal after I eat that meager excuse of a-"

With a heavy drop of a boot, the vulture head disperses into dust before rising to the sky, like all the others. As the feather lodged in Georgie's shoulder began fading, he placed an empty glass bottle over the dust before it could rise. Quickly sliding a cork into place, he held black crystals pointing in the same direction as the rest above.

Protecting people is fine, he recounted. That's just a lot of your own time to sacrifice.

It's like fate made sure you would have these ingredients, just for this meal!

A tumbleweed passed the young man while his mind became muddled with complications and conflicting interests. Georgie had never been a fan of adventurers. He understood their necessity and needed their patronage, but when it came to them as people; he never had the patience for their vitriol, self-importance and terrible haggling. He wasn't much of a people person anyway, but adventurers were people he just couldn't talk to beyond his counter. Outside his shop was a world constantly insisting itself upon ordinary people with quests, monsters, prophecies, and chaotic magic. The Paladin though, he had more to talk about. That bliss on his face eating that sandwich, was a passion he had to believe could only be a hobby. A caged songbird, raised to be content singing through the bars.

"Ugh!" Georgie drank a healing potion and let out an exasperated grunt. He was allowing himself to get so sidetracked and hated it. The black dust in the bottle pressed on the glass harder to follow the trail, and Georgie echoed through the mountain range.

"FINE!"