They kept to the Hari Path. They were more likely to encounter adventurers this way, but he wasn’t sure about how they would fare in what encounters might lurk in the wilderness.

The only reason Alric had survived their encounter with the giant six-legged cat monster was due to his stone form Arcana. Without a similar tool, he suspected that Cedril being involved in such a fight would be the end of him.

They made light conversation as they traveled. As the topics circled back to Nidra and her forces, Hirrus grew less certain of whether or not that was a good thing. When they were silent, he found himself lingering on him questioning his choices. And when Cedril spoke of Nidra’s forces, the doubts within him bubbled up.

“I fear what she might do,” Cedril admitted, “now that you’re not with her.”

“What do you mean? What do you think she’ll do?”

“Lie,” Cedril said with a grimace. “I’m afraid she might tell the others you intend to meet her in the capital. If she does - if they don’t know you’re not coming - they might follow her to the bitter end, waiting for you to ride to the rescue.”

“She’s powerful in her own right,” Hirrus said. “She is strong enough to do anything I could.”

“Perhaps,” Cedril said with a moment’s pause. “But we all saw how the fight unfolded. She was left near-death at the end. You were untouchable.”

“It only seemed that way because we did things my way,” Hirrus said defensively. “She would have been fine if we had been able to continue with her plan, while I would have looked like a fool.”

Cedril grunted, clearly unconvinced.

Hirrus didn’t know how to change his mind. Then again, Cedril had already deserted. It wasn’t as if Hirrus was trying to convince him to follow her again.

“Even so, I worry for her,” Cedril admitted after a moment. “I hope she’s honest with the others, but I know what will happen if she is.”

“What’s that?” Hirrus asked.

“They’ll leave,” Cedril said. “Whenever she turns to look back, there will be one or two fewer people following her.”

The silence stretched out after that. Guilt planted itself in Hirrus’s chest by Nidra and GM Dave roiled and twisted within him.

“Not all of them,” Hirrus said. “Surely.”

“No, of course,” Cedril said quickly. “Some will stay. Most of them, probably. Plenty of folks were riled up enough by Rumi’s call to action. Nidra promised to use it to give the power back to them instead of taking it for herself. That will keep those people at her side. People are angry about their lot in life, and needing to better it.”

Hirrus wanted to point out that if the only ones Nidra had remaining at her side were those driven by anger, that wasn’t a positive thing. They would be reckless and prone to lashing out. Those people would break with Nidra’s plan at the first sign of resistance, turning the whole operation into a chaotic mess.

They would-

They would behave like Hirrus, without having his strength to fall back on.

His guilt redoubled.

He told himself it would be fine. Nidra could do this all herself if she had to.

But what if she did have to?

“It’s been a long day,” Cedril said, “we should stop to eat.”

“Has it?” Hirrus asked, furrowing his brow. “And should we?”

“My decision tree tells me that it is supper time,” Cedril said with a smile. “While I can choose to ignore it, keeping to a complete schedule is one of the few good things Rumi had us doing. It gave us a sense of normalcy. I feel like if I went a full day without eating, it would mean… It would mean that something was very wrong.”

Hirrus wanted to point out that they didn’t need to obey their decision trees to eat, and, as he hadn’t slept in several days with no ill effects, they didn’t need to sleep, either. But before he could say it, he realized that that kind of talk was exactly what he was fighting against. Cedril was a person, the same as Hirrus. And if he wanted to indulge in the small familiar comforts, it would be monstrous to demand that he forgo them for no reason.

“We can stop, then,” Hirrus said at last. He nodded to a small clearing off the side of the road ahead.

They were still pretty far north, though the trees were starting to encroach upon the tundra here. There was a copse of trees near at hand, supported by clusters of briar bushes, that would shield them from the wind.

Hirrus set the campfire easily. Stacking some thick branches into a proper log cabin shape, filling it with dry brush - easily found in the wintry cold - was a familiar chore from his mercenary days.

What was slightly less familiar was blasting it with Flamesplash to ignite it, instead of patiently working with flint and steel to make a spark.

With a blast of fiery Arcana, the tinder took instantly, and the fire was crackling and throwing off light and warmth in plenty.

Before Hirrus could venture out into the wilderness to find something to kill and butcher, to roast something meaty on a stick, but Cedril produced some materials from his inventory. Hirrus’s inventory held mostly adventuring gear peeled from uncounted corpses, but Cedril had actual cooking supplies.

The bare-chested man set a little iron stand over the fire, and a big metal pot atop it. He gestured for Hirrus to sit.

As Hirrus sat, Cedril continued to surprise him. He produced a small bottle of grease, warming it up by the fire to liquefy it before spreading it over the inside of the pot. He then pulled out a wrapped parcel. It contained a bunch of fist-sized balls of dough. Cedril arranged them in the pot and closed the lid.

“Thank you,” Hirrus said. “I hadn’t considered bringing anything.”

“Who said any of that was for you?” Cedril asked with a laugh.

Hirrus was reasonably sure that he was kidding. Even if he wasn’t, it wasn’t as if Hirrus needed to eat anyway. It was just a recreational activity. His decision tree had forced him to eat at regular intervals, or else it forced him to display symptoms of ‘hunger’ with no physical grounding in his body’s actual performance.

Freed of those decisions, it was only for comfort. Or, like Cedril, for habit.

After about twenty minutes, Cedril opened the pot. The fist-sized rolls hadn’t just risen and baked, but some of them had split open, revealing that they were not just rolls, but were stuffed with herb-seasoned poultry and spinach. Though the dominant smell was of horseradish sauce. Cedril removed the pot from the heat, and carefully - with his leather gauntlets, picked two of the little rolls out, offering one to Hirrus.

“Chicken-stuffed waybread,” Cedril said, before Hirrus asked. “My spouse’s favorite.”

“This looks quite complex,” Hirrus said, accepting the meat-filled roll. The armor on Hirrus’s hand slot was the furred fingerless gauntlets from Mel, and didn’t provide much protection from the heat. Though the little sting of fire damage from the hot roll was negligible, compared to his hit point total. “I thought you were a clothier, not a cook.”

“The things we learn for love,” Cedril said with a sad smile. He stared at the roll for a long moment.

Hirrus nodded. He’d done a lot of work on himself over the years to feel worthy of Julissa’s love. He’d stopped cutting his hair so close to his scalp, and learned how to manage it properly. Hirrus had even learned the basics of cooking so that he could share the load with Julissa, though she was still the more skilled.

He wanted to ask what had happened to Cedril’s spouse, but he suspected he could guess from the sorrowful look he was giving the food in his hand.

Hirrus didn’t want to talk about Julissa either.

At length, Cedril ripped off the top part of the roll, exposing the fragrant contents to the air. Steam spilled out of the opening as Cedril popped the fragment of roll into his mouth.

“To let it cool,” Cedril explained quickly as Hirrus watched. “If you don’t open it up, it’ll still be too hot to eat for an hour yet.”

Hirrus nodded, reaching to do the same to his roll. There was something oddly satisfying about it. Steam billowed out around the opening before he’d finished tearing it open. The bread was warm and infused with the herbs and horseradish sauce. A single leaf of spinach was clinging to the inside as Hirrus popped it in his mouth.

It was spicier than he expected, even as the smell of horseradish filled the air.

It was also good. Really good.

“How do you make this?” Hirrus asked immediately.

“It’s easier than it looks,” Cedril said, pausing to blow on his roll, trying to cool it down. “Chicken, salt, spinach, herbs, horseradish sauce. Cook it up, cool it off, wrap in dough. It’ll keep for a day or so like that, if you keep it cold enough to stop the dough from proofing. Bake it when you’re ready.”

Hirrus nodded. As soon as Cedril had spoken, he was already wondering why he had asked. Once this was all over, he wasn’t going to remember, was he? He wasn’t going to be able to make it for Julissa next week. Not any more than he would be able to abandon his post and walk to Denstad and take out the Shadow Council if Nidra failed.

If Nidra failed.

Now Hirrus was the one staring at his roll, lost in thought.

He didn’t say lost for long, however.

“Oy, oy, oy,” a voice came from the treeline around the clearing. “What’s all this then?”

An armed and armored adventurer pushed his way through the brambles.

And then another.

Then two more.

And three behind them.

They didn’t look that threatening, but Hirrus knew that looks could be deceiving. And from the density of the foliage that surrounded them, these seven might not be all that lurked nearby.