Something pulled them toward the burning pyre, the fire, gentle as it lit. The light pierces the dark night, forming a dome for their eyes. For they are, except the owls and the nightjars, not accustomed to the darkest night. Once again the kindling fire burns and turned into a pyre. Men circled to tell stories. Five travellers they are, a wizard, a young man, a dwarf, and two elves. And they indulge the men in hospitality, or of anything they could do. Wine is out with some poultry meat, game meat, and cheese. Only, it's a shame that Lyle must send back three of the men. And should anyone asked, from where the two elves appeared, they just immediately showed themselves after what happened. They're the one who prepared the food. And they didn't mind few more company. "We're good," one of the elves said. "Everything is fine," the other one said as he turned to the men. The wizard combed his beard with his fingers. "May I ask you, lordling?" He didn't spare Lyle from questions. "You know that we seldom came across your people. What news do you bring of this part of the kingdom?" Lyle answered, "Death, and burning of fields and villages." It was the truth. "No wonder that soldiers in the city gates so sour-faced!" The dwarf threw a piece of firewood into the pyre and hit the glowing embers. "This time of year is time for harvest. No wonder." The young man was listening to them. He inquired, "What became of the villages, sir? Where did these things happen?" The young man turned to Lyle, to Joey, then to Mikhail. Lyle turned his face too to him. Mikhail's eyes met his. And Lyle nodded. "Lommary," Mikhail said with regret and angst. "And Domee, just two-three days ago." "By the gods!" The dwarf cursed, and the old wizard can only withhold a bitter smile while tightly gripping his wooden staff. The young man fell to his knees. And the wizard asked him again, "Are you sure?" Mikhail couldn't say anything. The words are sealed. His eyes looked far into the dark and starry sky. The news shattered them. After a long silence, one of the two elves muttered, "It's impossible. That couldn't happen. No." Lyle donned his solemn face. "You know the people. Am I mistaken?" "Yes. You're not mistaken, sir," the elf replied. The other one inhaled the cold air. "We just had travelled from there. How's it possible?" "We're not lying." Lyle shook his head and glanced at the wizard. "Now I would like to hear your story. By all means, if you could tell us." The wizard exhaled, and he began with his story. "We're travellers." They know they are. And there are no lies after that. "We travelled from Sagvis after through the Capital and through the main road, cities by cities, towns, and villages." "Why so far? Southerners usually don't end up here in the North." "That's because I'm a wizard." The wizard showed them his warm smile. "I need to do a lot of things." "Still, that tells us nothing. Should we know something or two about wizardry I wouldn't ask you." Mikhail said it in somewhat curious tone. "Would you make it easier for us, old man?" "Procurement of ingredients. That's one of them, I guess." "Oh." Joey pondered. He asked while chewing on his game-meat, "For what? Rituals?" "Ointments. Potions. Tonics. Medicine." The eyes of the old wizard shone dully by the fire. "And I could study things that we may found in the journey." "Win-win. Hehhe~" The dwarf laughed merrily, chugging down a mug of water. He too has something to tell. "And what is your story, master dwarf?" Mikhail asked him. The dwarf put down his mug. "I'm in for the ride." He looked at the starry sky and the far-stretching road. "You could say I'm a craftsman. And for a long time, I wanted to visit my relative." "So that's why you're here? Supposedly a dwarf should be inside his own workshop, not out here in the wilderness," Lyle stated. "And is it the wizard who tells you to join him as a company?" "Aye," the dwarf replied. "Aside from a free ride to my relative in Northfrey, the old man will need good hands. There and back again, we owe a favour to the old wizard." He cheered the men by his laugh. "And it's true?" "Well!! Supposedly, I helped them from time to time." The wizard said as he looked at his companions and then fixed his hat. And he helps himself with the nuts. "Every time it's just one random act of kindness and nothing more. But it piled to acts of kindness. Don't you agree?" "True." Lyle agreed unconditionally. "Now, you," Lyle pointed out to the young man. "What's your story?" "I live in the outskirt of my village, sir. I have known old man Rayhar as long as I live." The man said that with a tinge of pride. "I'm a leatherworker, also a lumberjack." "And what are you doing here? You're far from your home by months." "I was also a gatherer," the man continued his story. "But I hoped that going to look the world outside my own village and forest." "Ever regret your decision?" Joey asked out of nowhere. "Never." The young man is sure. "But I'm stranger to travelling and live down the road." "You'll get used to it boy," Mikhail jested. And there was big laughter among the men. "Every man with a sword always felt not easy to hold it for the first time. So are the reins, and so we are to our life." The young man only could nod. And last, but not least, was the story of the elves. "We came from the Great Ancient Forest," Fil, one of the elves began. "We're friends of old man Rayhar before we met the two." And the other simply agreed to what Fil said. What bring the elves here could be something more than 'going outside'. Considerably, elves and their community are secluded from the outside world as they lived inside the deep part of the forests. As they said, they're young. When elf enters the coming of age, they should go on a journey to found their mature-self. Lyle could say they're at least more than a hundred years old. And they're matured in mind and body. And in the end, there's nothing more to say. They got their answers; who they are, what they do, their business, passersby in wagons, and nights of camping in the open. Lyle and his men waited for the rest to came. They must go. "I fear there's nothing more to do here, old wizard," Lyle said his farewell. He gave them the warning. "Go back to Northfrey as your business is done. Winter is no stranger to us but not to the Southerners." Lyle raised to his feet. "Thank you." The old man raised to his feet too and gestured. And Lyle returns the courtesy. Only then, the wizard suddenly turned his back again to Lyle. "But maybe there's something more." The wizard's tone is weary. His voice warned everyone by the fire. "I wary of myself. And for the fate of your company." "What do you mean?" Lyle asked, and confused. And for the last time, the men laughed. But not Lyle, and the wizard. "Maybe it's them you seek," he said. Lyle understood what the wizard mean. But unfortunately not his men. "Them?" one of the men asked with suspicion. "Who?" "Those passersby!" Lyle shouted as he urged to left. But the wizard's hands got hold of him. "Wait," he said, almost whispered. "Let us come with you." There was hatred in his eyes.