The cart carrying Flip home had been cheap. Granted, it wasn’t every day that a farmer was paid a few gold pieces for a lift, as a few gold could carry a simple farmer through a few hard days. A few gold was nothing to a wizard. It was also, in reality, the most private transport from Westcross to Builend the wizard could afford. If nothing else, it may have also been the most comfortable ride he could afford, as few other horse driven carts had room for a full grown adult to lie down in the back while carrying a gentle padding of hay. It would be a three day journey on foot, which Flip did not want to endure. The just over a days worth of travel on a comfortable cart was ideal for the wizard.

The farmer Flip had paid knew better than to make small talk as well. It was a wonderful arrangement; Flip could sit in the back of the cart and write with only the occasional bump in the dirt road to interrupt him. The scenery wasn’t bad either, as the land between the city of Westcross and Builend was pleasant. Mostly fields, both farmed and wild, and the occasional copse of trees to break the land up into different pieces.

The city is pleasant,

Alive and glowing—effervescent.

The country is kind,

Wild and true—unaligned.

Home, sweet home, is stable,

Warm and soft—comfortable.

Flip scrawled the words down in a small notebook bound in dark blue leather. It was new. It had looked more expensive than his own spell book and the comparison inspired him. A thief wouldn’t look twice at his real spell book when there was another nicer looking one more visible on his person. Both held nothing more than poetry and scrawlings, to the untrained eye at least. Of course, it would be a shame to lose any writing to theft, even if it was just the scribbling of a bored mind, but better to lose a journal than the culmination of years of study and a very small fortune of materials. Upon thinking about the potential loss, Flip’s hand reflexively made its way to the pocket sewn into his shirt just over his gut where he kept his spell book. Still safe as it always was, which was no surprise. The pocket was enchanted so that only he could see it and take things out of it.

“Hey, old man.” The farmer called back from his seat at the front of the cart. The call was accompanied by the cart coming to a stop. “You know magic, right?”

Flip sighed and turned to see what the farmer was going to ask him for. It was always a request. No one ever asked if he knew magic just for conversation. And this farmer already knew Flip wasn’t interested in conversation. The call was all the more hurtful at the suggestion that Flip was old. He probably wasn't that much older than the farmer.

“There’s smoke up ahead. I heard a stable hand in Westcross say there was someone harassing travelers on this route… can you deal with bandits?”

Flip could see the smoke rising in the distance now that he knew what had gotten the farmers attention. It was a pillar of deep black smoke rising above the trees in the distance beyond a turn in the dirt road. There was something strange about it that Flip couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“I never said I knew magic.”

“You’re wearing violet cords. I may be a humble farmer but I ain’t a fool.”

“I know several things that can deal with bandits, depending on the bandit.” Flip grumbled. He was beginning to regret his choice to join a guild with physical markers. It made it harder to be less helpful in public without lying. “I don’t suppose you mind taking a detour so I don’t have to?”

“Could do that. Though I figure there’s probably a bounty on someone harassin' folks so close to the city. S’not a particularly busy road, but there’s some trade. Could be worth your while, didn’t know if you were the sort to be adventuring or not. Hard to tell with you magic folk.” Flip could tell this farmer had been starved for conversation for the first leg of their journey, he seemed to be rambling on in a way that people who liked to talk often did.

“Regrettably, you may be right. It might be profitable.” Flip hummed as he though the prospect over in his mind.

He had spent a rather large amount of money in Westcross. The dues of joining the violet cord had been rather exorbitant. Though, subduing a bandit or two would probably mean he would have to go back to claim any sort of reward and bring the bandit or bandits with him… or at least proof he had stopped the bandit. And there was no way of telling if there would be any sort of reward.

“If you don’t mind a little risk and some discomfort, I can allow us to pass through the area safely. If there’s a serious problem I can step in, but if it’s just some silly country bumpkins desperate enough to prey on strangers for coin I would rather not get involved.”

“How much discomfort we talkin’? Cus’ ol’ Henry here don’t take bright light all that well anymore after he almost get struck by lightning last harvest. Chains bless him, he might panic at the sight a' magic.”

Flip eyed the horse pulling the cart. There was an even chance it would be spooked, but it wouldn’t be much of a loss.

“He should be fine... if we don't move too fast... and you can keep on level ground. We'll be just fine then."

Flip began to mutter the incantation of the spell without waiting for any sort of consent from the farmer. He had the time to spend on the full incantation, and even as his hand itched for the pouch at his hip where he kept the heavier of his spellcasting materials, he resisted the urge to pull out the chunk of crystal that a simple farmer or bandit might think more valuable than it really was. The full incantation would do for this. Flip paid no mind as the farmer nodded and waited for the spell to be completed.

Before the incantation was complete the shape of the barely visible dome had already started to form. From within the dome, it looked as though the world had taken on a warped perspective. It would probably be difficult to navigate a horse from under it, but it would be much easier than having to fight off who knew how many bandits; at least that was what crossed Flip’s mind. In reality, Flip had many means of subduing violent attackers. None of them would leave a good impression on the mind of someone who was unsure of magic, someone like the farmer that had agreed to give him a ride. Vaporizing a person, for instance, was sure to leave a bad feeling between them for the remainder of the journey. Assuming the farmer allowed him to ride along after witnessing such an event.

The canter over to and around the bend in the road was quick enough, though Henry did take some effort for the farmer to manipulate in the proper direction. What lay beyond was not the sight that either the farmer or Flip had been expecting. Several covered wagons sat abandoned and burning with a purple tinted flame off to the right of the road, a group of terrified elves cowering just off the road to the left, and a single armed individual looming over three roughed up and also terrified human men dead center on the dirt road ahead. It was doubtful that any of the event that had transpired could be gathered from the scene alone. Flip was tempted to let his protective dome fade in order to investigate, but the color of the flames and the single individual with a short sword gave him pause. Things could still go awry quite easily.

“Oh?” The armed figure turned around to reveal a remarkably unassuming human. He looked, to Flip, like every other human he’d ever met. “You there, wizard.” His voice was muffled, or rather, the dome made it difficult for Flip to hear him. It was was as though they were trying to talk while underwater.

The farmer seemed intent to pipe up, but Flip gestured for him to remain silent. With Flip standing up on the back of the cart as he was, he was much more the focus of the onlookers around them. If things did go south, the farmer would have a much easier time sneaking away and staying safe if he remained quiet.

“I cannot hear you all that well from within this magical barrier!” Flip shouted out towards the armed man.

“What?! I can’t hear you!” The man shouted back.

To those standing around watching the exchange, it was baffling. The elves standing by, that had just likely witnessed something quite terrifying, seemed put off by the sudden change in tone. The men kneeling on the ground, that perhaps thought they were seconds away from execution, also looked quite bewildered.

“I said the barrier… by oaths... Carry on! We are only passing through!” Flip shouted again, this time nudging the farmer to snap the reigns and get Henry moving again.

“No, no! Wait!” The armed man quickly bludgeoned one of the kneeling men over the head with the hilt of his short sword. The man collapsed quickly, and while the other two looked shocked, didn’t make a move to try and escape.

Flip paused again, this time in confusion, as all gathered at the road watched the armed man casually incapacitate each of the kneeling men with the same sort of bash to the skull. It wasn’t until each man was lying unconscious on the ground and the armed man sheathed his sword that Flip felt comfortable enough to do away with his protective dome.

“If anyone here can magically quell fire, or has water, those flames will go out just like normal ones. The coloration is only chemical.” The man turned to the rest gathered at the roadside and as he instructed, one of the elves quickly held out their hand and the flames began to die down.

“My name is Dohvran, I was paid by the one of the merchantine guilds in Westcross to subdue these men. The fear was that a group of imps had been using fellfire to cut off the route and liberate goods from caravans such as this.” The man was addressing just Flip now. He had begun to stride over with his hands up, attempting to indicate that he was nonthreatening. “As it turns out, these men have been using some stolen chemicals to replicate hellish flames and stealing from the traders amid the chaos.”

“Good.” Was all Flip could manage to say. Something about the man struck him as off-putting, something about his facial features. His expressions didn’t quite match his tone, or maybe they matched too closely. Almost like every muscle on his face was being manually manipulated into just the proper expression.

“You have careful eyes, Wizard.” Dohvran nodded, as though assenting to a proposition that he presumed Flip had; which puzzled the wizard all the more. “And interesting magic. I do not think I have seen a spell quite like that.”

“And you are quite nosey for a mercenary.” Flip retorted. “I would think that someone who works as you do would respect the privacy of others.

“My apologies, I am simply starved for conversation and the topic of magic intrigues me. I am a modest practitioner myself, though I do not devote myself to it entirely. It is difficult to talk about such things to oneself while waiting quietly in the woods for tragedy to strike.”

“Your quarry is escaping.” Flip announced casually as he watched one of the men who had been incapacitated slowly get up on to his hands and knees and crawl towards the safety of the trees.

Fast as a whip, Dohvran turned, spotted the man, pulled a dagger from somewhere on his person—the motion was so fast and practiced it was almost impossible to tell from where exactly—and threw it in the direction of the man. The dagger made contact, pommel first, into the side of the man's head and he fell prone once more. The man's collapse was met with a sigh, perhaps of relief that the dagger had hit, perhaps of frustration that the man had not stayed put.

“Rather than bicker and talk like we don’t want to, would you kindly tell me your name and help me secure these idiots to a tree or some such?” Dohvran didn’t wait to see if Flip agreed, and made his way back to where he had left the unconscious men, a coil of strong rope now suddenly in his hands.

“I am Faengil Hasterath, arcanist of the Finnegan clan.” Flip mumbled just loud enough for Dohvran to hear, as he hefted his way down from the cart and strode over to the man’s side. “Finnegan is a good enough name for new acquaintances.”

“Seeing as I’ve never heard of you or your clan, that’s fair enough. Hold his arms back around the side of the tree for me, will you?”

Flip did as instructed and helped tie each of the men to the base of a sturdy ash in such a way there was very likely no way they would escape. Dovhran was obviously skilled at such tasks, as he carried out the process very quickly. Flip kept a careful eye on the man as they worked together, noting that there was an odd lack of facial animation when he was not talking. It was as though his expressions were left as they were until a new one was required.

“There. I doubt these poor fools will be leaving any time soon. I can send word back to my contact at the merchantine guild and the idiots will be collected as soon as possible.” Dovhran looked quite proud of himself, which was not unwarranted. Those that excel at something often bask in the accomplishment of a difficult task. The apprehension of three men armed with alchemical fire, when done by a singular agent, was a worthy feat. “If you care to linger, I would be willing to share some of the spoils. It is getting late, after all, and it looks like the caravan is going to make camp here for the night.”

“I don’t know why you would share the pay of a contract you carried out on your own. I did next to nothing.”

“Yes. But I did the work for more reasons than money. And I think you like money.”

Flip was left baffled for once. This peculiar man seemed intent on being friendly. It was both a relief and a whole new worry, as the wizard wondered at his motives.