The sun beat down. Heat rose up in thick waves from the cobblestones. The wind spat dust in their faces.

It didn't all feel so happy and exciting anymore, now that the novelty had worn off.

They were nearly a full day's walk from Leodomum, and the journey had been ... well, eye-opening was one word for it.

Lucilla had, thus far, spent the vast majority of her life within the fortified stone walls of Leodomum, a relatively large and certainly prosperous city, protected from the strife and struggle of rural life. She'd been to only one of the nearby towns (albeit four years ago), had portaled to her ancestral homeland once, and sailed down the Tettia to the sea back when she was little. But that was the extent of it.

Now she was walking through proper peasant land, and seeing the full impact of the province's problems.

To the east, just over the horizon, a thick black cloud hung in the air threatening stormy weather to come. But when she mentioned the impending onset of rain, Derwen informed her it wasn't a storm. It was smoke. So much smoke from such a blazing, out-of-control fire that it had reshaped the sky above it into an endless night. Every so often the wind blew from that direction and they could smell it, too. Lucilla could not imagine what it must have been like to see the fires up close.

Not that here was faring much better. All around Leodomum, including the entirety of the countryside up to the Barricade, drought prevailed. Now, it's one thing to hear about drought from someone else while you're eating freshly teleported apples and sipping on wine. But to ... to see it. That was another thing entirely.

They had been walking for hours, passing through three little villages, and were yet to see a single occupied house. Everyone had left. It was all abandoned. The only other people on the road were all in carriages, and all travelling south to Leodomum. At first they'd warned people the city was full and it was better to turn back, but no one believed them. They'd stopped telling people after the fifth carriage.

As a group they each kept constant vigilance (well except for maybe Grung), even this close to Leodomum. The legionnaire patrols were noticeably few, and Derwen and Jendar both warned that beasts may be prowling around in the absence of people. There were many strange creatures in the provinces that were attracted to death and decay. Best not to be taken by surprise.

"ooh spooky," said Grung at one point, as they passed what may have once been an inn, its doors flapping loosely in the breeze. He hopped almost exclusively alongside Jendar, taking three footsteps for the titan's every one. It was the first time the party and their diminutive wizard were ever on the same wavelength.

It only tightened Lucilla's resolve.

* * *

Jendar kept pace with the group, but the longer they marched the more his discomfort grew. He said very little, contributing only occasionally to the smattering of conversation that bubbled up between party members, and stared straight ahead (not that he actually needed to turn his head to 'see', but he had learned to do so for the sake of others). Lucilla led them, followed by Derwen, with he and Grung at the back. The frog had seemed to take a fascination with Jendar, spending all of his time with the big warrior. It was not apparent as to why.

Jendar might have asked, but most of his attention was currently dedicated to his own suffering. His armour itched all over, but he could not scratch. He felt weak, light-headed, almost arthritic. His pace slowed and so he forced himself to march harder, so that he did not fall too far behind. So that he did not show his weakness.

But he knew he would have to slip away within the coming days, to medicate himself. Although the conditions had to be right for it to work, and so far he had not found anywhere suitable.

He had to wait.

For as long as he could hold out.

* * *

Derwen couldn't believe his luck. From a Leodomum street hoodlum to a prisoner with a broken arm to a free elf (still with a broken arm), his journey had been quite the unexpected ride. And to think that he had fully made peace with either dying in that damp cell or hanging by the neck for the attempted kidnapping/murder of the daughter of the Dominus.

Yet ... here he was! A new recruit in service of the wonderful and mighty Valenian Empire, with all its wisdom and power, long may it reign so that it could continue to eradicate indigenous cultures and send its beloved nobles on suicide quests.

He chuckled to himself, ignoring the strange look he got from his brave teenaged leader. Grung laughed with him. Metal Man the Arm Breaker said nothing.

They'd promised Derwen considerable riches if he would act as a guide beyond An Balla Mòr, the Barbarian's Barricade, and help the little estron girl find the long-storied ffynnon y duwiau (yes even Derwen's clan had tales of the Godswell). In fact, he'd been promised so much Valenian coin he'd be set up for life ... so long as he spent it in the empire where it was actually worth something.

Did Derwen know where y ffynnon was? Nope! Why would he?

Did he even know the lay of the clan lands beyond An Balla? Of course not! Didn't even know which clan owned 'em. MacShuail, maybe. Derwen had been born in the forests far to the west, and came more or less straight to Leodomum after he had ... well, after he had left. But the empire didn't know that. They hadn't even asked. They just assumed he'd know. He was a Northerner, after all. Ruddy hell, it was a miracle they'd grown so large with a vetting process like that.

His smiled broadened and he walked with more strut than before, playing with a red stone ring on his pinky finger.

Easiest jail break he'd ever been through.

Now he just had to get to the Barricade.

* * *

Grung made noises with his mouth. He'd discovered that if he inflated his cheeks, sealed his lips, then pushed his cheeks in with his fingers, he could blow quite delightful raspberries.

He did so with glee.

* * *

On the first night of their journey, the group camped just off to the side of the road, in the lee of a small dusty cliff for what protection it might offer. The Barricade itself was just less than five days' walking from Leodomum, assuming around twenty-four miles walking per day, meaning they still had a good four days left. And then nobody knew how long they'd be roaming the Northerlands for.

But that was a future problem.

Lucilla left Jendar, Derwen, and Grung to set up their tents and cooking area while she went off to fetch wood for a fire. She dropped her pack and left most of her belongings, trusting Jendar would keep watch over them. Maybe Uncle Rex didn't trust the big titan, but she had a feeling about him. She knew, in her heart, she could trust him. So she left her two knives, a heavy furred cloak, and her brother's helmet - which she took as her own for the journey, so he'd be with her always. Her mother was with her too, in the form of a locket she wore around her neck bearing a portrait of the woman's likeness. She kept the Sword of the Mountain in case any bandits were lurking about in the dusk, and a small composite bow, just in case she spotted any game while she was out there.

This turned out to be a wise move, for she bagged a rabbit on her trip which Derwen used to make a surprisingly delightful stew.

And so the party settled into its first night together, awkwardly sitting around the fire not really talking to each other. Jendar stared straight ahead, Lucilla quietly ate her stew as she watched the fire, Derwen looked up at the stars with a half smile on his face, and Grung ... well, Grung watched Derwen. That is, until, he finally spoke.

"why is your arm like that?"

Derwen snapped out of his happy daze and looked down at the small frog, which had crawled on all fours towards him ogling his broken arm, held as it was in a black sling.

"It's broken, little one," Derwen replied calmly, as if talking to a child. "That thing over there shattered it."

I recall you stabbing me, noted Jendar without moving.

"Semantics."

Grung furrowed his hairless red brow and raised one little finger, tentatively prodding Derwen's arm. The elf winced and recoiled away. "Oi, didn't you hear what I said?"

"it's sore." The frog looked dangerously like he might poke it again.

"Yeah of course it's sore. It's broken. I doubt I'll ever use it again."

"hmm." Now Grung properly frowned, the cogs in his unknowable mind clearly turning over some serious thought or another.

Everyone stared, no idea what to expect from such a face on such a creature. Derwen seemed cautious, shuffling slightly away. "Don't you dare ruddy poke me again. I already told you it's sore."

But before anyone could say anything more, Grung sprang up - giving Derwen a fright - and scurried back to his corner of the encampment, picking up the spellbook he'd had hooked to his belt all day. Then, he scurried just as hurriedly to Derwen again, carrying the book above his head.

"H- hey," Derwen started, shuffling away some more. "What are you doing?"

Lucilla cocked her head. "Grung, leave him alone."

"don't worry!" Now he flumped down next to Derwen and began flicking through some of the book's crinkled pages, searching for something within. A specific page.

As the pages flickered past, they all caught glimpses of the content inside, seeing a series of scribbled notes in a large black font, all in Arcane - the language of magic. If those were real spells, written properly, then that book contained serious power. Every magi (or 'wizard' as Grung called himself) carried such a book as this, called a day book. It contained all of the spells they expected to use on a daily basis, with lots of blank pages left to fill in more spells later. Each spell would be written into the book multiple times, for when the Arcane words were finally called upon they would ignite the page and it would burn to ash, unleashing the power contained within the text.

Each magi would also carry a second book - usually in their pack - which contained all of the spells they had learned and anticipated they might one day require. This was their spell journal. These spells were only written once, and served as a reference to scrawl the same text in the day book so that, when the pages were incinerated by the god dust conducting through the text, the magi could remember how to draw them again in future.

"ahah!"

After a few moments, Grung had found the page he was after. Without thinking he tore it out of the book and stood up, approaching Derwen again.

"Hey now, little one, careful wi' that..."

"don't worry! grung is a powerful wizard."

"That's what I'm worried about."

But Grung wasn't giving Derwen a chance, and Derwen couldn't really scrabble away anyway for the moment he tried to push himself up he landed awkwardly on his broken arm, hissed, and collapsed into Grung's reach.

And the little frog pounced.

Lucilla started as well, even Jendar finally moving as if to intervene. But Grung was on the elf before anyone could so much as fart. He slapped his torn piece of paper ink-side down onto Derwen's broken arm, causing a great yelp of pain from the elf. Immediately, Grung muttered something in Arcane and the page lit up in a brilliant shower of green sparks, radiating magical energy like a tiny aurora that quickly engulfed Derwen's arm. The aurora grew in intensity and brightness, and the piece of paper fizzled away in a luminous green flame.

It was all over in a matter of seconds. Ash blew away in the wind, the light died down, the sparks fell away.

Grung hopped back, then raised his arms above his head. "ta da!"

The camp was still.

"D- Derwen, are you...?" Lucilla began.

Derwen seemed shocked, mouth hanging open in a fly-catcher of an O. At first he said nothing, did not move, didn't breathe. Then, he slowly turned his head to look at his arm. He waggled his fingers, tested his shoulder, then his elbow. Everything seemed to move normally. The man did not wince even once.

"The little devil..." he muttered in amazement.

Lucilla blinked, while Grung looked immeasurably pleased with himself.

"He's ruddy healed me. My arm - it feels good as new!"

"Huh," said Lucilla.

She stared now at Grung, the fire dancing wildly in the little frog's eyes as night descended around them.

So he really was a wizard.