The ‘poor’ animals as Arban put it hadn’t finished playing their part that night by sacrificing their lives. They had a more important task ahead of them, filling the bellies of the people joining the quest in the buffet that night. The blessing was done, the teams were decided, all the important parts were finished. Now the people participated in celebrating their impending journey three days from now.

Huge tables full of hundreds of kinds of meat and fish dishes, broths, soups, loaves of bread and fruits lay in the middle of the podium around the fire. People walked around them with plates both empty and full along with their new teammates, socializing, getting to know each other.

Erhan sat on the grass in a circle along with his other teammates. As he watched the faces of the new and old acquaintances sitting around him, he felt complicated. Was it all really just a coincidence? Or was there some behind the scene machinations going on along with the divining?

Along with a tall, bald middle-aged man sporting red horseshoe moustache, and muscles that nearly burst out of his grey wool shirt, a copper-skinned woman in her late twenties with cropped brown hair and a lean cheetah-like man with long golden hair tied into a ponytail, there sat two individuals he knew quite well. A smiling Sena holding an apple in her hands, and a grumbling Arban picking his nose. All of them made up this team of a total of six.

Sena’s knights sat with other groups not far from them. They all had an almost Identical scowl on their faces. Oh no, they didn’t like this at all. They were knights of Moras! Why in the name of all the gods did those godforsaken, flea-ridden druids separate them from their lady, The one they were supposed to protect? They had protested of course. But what can they do when her majesty the queen herself was behind these arrangements? Now they didn’t even have the chance to back up. The worst blow to their heart was Sena. she could at least pretend to be crestfallen after being separated from them. Was sir Erhan so much more reliable than all four of them combined? They sighed. Yeah, he was.

Erhan paid no mind to the moping knights nor the people surrounding him as he sat down with a mug of good old ironvein ale himself and pondered over the sum of today’s ceremony. He’d heard about the prize for completing the task, but land or title, or even too much money would be meaningless as a prize if the queendom ever collapses, which is quite likely to happen in Clover. So the number of individuals rushing to Valar for the quest had always somewhat surprised him. He wasn’t one to care about rumours, so he hadn’t heard about the real prize which drew in so many people.

The Dragon heart elixir. A miracle that could even give an old dying man who had exhausted all his life a chance to live a few more decades. It can cure any injury no matter how serious, even regrow parts of the body that someone lost. The team that brought back the artefact would gain six portions of it. That was one of the reasons for the number of teams. And it was why so many came to join this quest.

To most people in the world, it might be the most precious thing, however, It was useless to Erhan. It couldn’t cure the Fade.

The other reason for such small teams was the location. After all, it was the Dreaming mountains. A place where the sadhus lived in seclusion. No one wanted to disturb those people by sending a large group for an expedition there. What if they become angry and send storms or lightning or any of the terrible other terrible disasters to wipe everyone out?

No, no need to annoy them.

“So, let us introduce ourselves properly,” said the bald man. A long vivid scar reached from the top of his gleaming pate down to his right eyebrow, dividing it like a dry river through a red grassy land. He took down a sheathed bastard sword from his back and stood it upright beside him. “I’m Harker from Tutshan village. And I’m good with a blade.”

“Garan Ersta, from Ersta tribe.” the Golden-haired man glared Harker in provocatively. “I can shoot a running stag from miles away, cut a boar in half with a swing of my sword.”

“Arda Ria,” the short-haired woman bowed her head, “I’m good with tracking, mapping, cooking, cleaning and…” she drew out the last word as she gave a mild smile looking each of them in the eyes, “stabbing.”

Her words gave everyone pause. Arban stared at them with wide eyes full of wonder. “Wow!” he said. “A group of jokers.”

“What did you say, boy?” said Harker as Garan almost sprang to his feet. Arda’s smile also faltered on her lips and Sena? She burst out laughing.

Erhan also couldn’t help but smile. Although the boy was going to kill himself for it, he was right. Looking at them Erhan could feel a headache creeping up to him. He sighed. “A wonderful start.”

“Why is it this route?” the side of the offwhite piece of vellum crumpled under Erhan’s fingers as he clenched them as hard as he could. The hand-drawn lines on it represented a valley at the entrance of the route that was all too familiar to him. He had dedicated ten years of his life to it after all. It was the place he left three years ago. A place he never thought he would see again.

“What are you doing?” Harker hurried toward him like a boulder rolling downhill. He extended his hand and said, “You’ll ruin the map. Give it to me.”

Sena pushed his hand away and asked, “Is there something wrong, Erhan?”

Erhan didn’t answer her, his unblinking eyes staring silently at the map for a long time.

“As I said, none of you five is fit to be the leader,” Arban said as he came in with Garan through the door to the study of the Moras mansion where they had decided to hold their discussions.

“Oh, I see, so you want to be the leader yourself then?” Garan asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Why not?” Arban put his nose up towards the sky. “A great leader doesn’t only need power, but charisma and most importantly, intelligence. But all...” he said as he slowly turned his head to look at all of them and gave a rueful shake of his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Erhan glared at the two of them bickering away in more than a little bit of annoyance as he handed the map to Sena. “Is there no way to change the route?” he asked her.

“Not that I know of,” she said, frowning at the map in suspicion as she took it. Was there something wrong with it? Although she’d only glanced at it when Erin brought it to her from the courier of the palace, she didn’t notice anything unusual. Her brows wrinkled in concentration as she poured over the piece of vellum, scrutinizing it herself to see what incurred such a violent reaction from a man like Erhan. But no matter how she looked, she spotted nothing other than the usual representations of hills and valleys of the Dreaming mountains, and the red line representing the route they were supposed to take. All of it was drawn in the excellent penmanship of the palace scribes. “It’s like deciding the teams. Each teams route is a result of many considerations. Each team’s fate and their chances of success lie on these predetermined routes and how well they can follow it.”

Erhan clenched his teeth. Divinations. It seemed they weren’t as simple as he thought them.

He glanced at the map as Sena handed it to Arda sat on the sofa and quietly watched them. Did his fate truly lie on that path?

Then he had to face them in the end. His demons.