Re:Birth: A Slow Burn LitRPG Mage Regressor

In a blink, Bob materialized inches from Adom’s face. Adom yelped and stumbled backward, landing hard in the snow.

”Holy shi-!” Valiant’s tail went rigid.

Adom chuckled, brushing snow from his cloak. ”Bob, you really need to stop doing that when it’s not expec-”

”Ya feckin’ eejit!” Bob yanked him into a bone-crushing hug, beard scratching against Adom’s face. ”Two months! Two bloody months! Searched every pub, every street, every dark corner in Arkhos!”

”Bob, I can’t breathe-”

He really couldn’t. What was it with small creatures like leprechauns and dwarves having that ridiculous amount of strength anyway?

”Thought ya were dead in a ditch somewhere!” Bob’s voice cracked slightly. He pulled back, holding Adom at arm’s length, sharp eyes examining every inch of him. ”By the old gods, look at the state of ya! Where’s yer proper cloak? Tryin’ to catch yer death out here?”

”I’m fine, really-”

”Fine? Fine?!” Bob’s face went red under his wild beard. ”Last I saw ya, ya were runnin’ around that cursed academy with some half-baked plan about-” He stopped, finally noticing Valiant. ”Who’s the mouse?”

”Um.” Valiant raised a paw in awkward greeting. ”Hi?”

”This is Valiant,” Adom said, finally managing to stand. ”He helped me escape the dungeon.”

”Dungeon?” Bob’s bushy eyebrows shot up. ”What feckin’ dungeon?”

”It’s... a long story.”

”A long story, he says!” Bob threw his hands up. ”Go missing for months, show up in the middle of nowhere looking like ya fought a dragon, and all ya can say is ’it’s a long story’?”

”Well-”

”Sìth is Solas!” Bob grabbed Adom’s ear, twisting slightly. ”I ought to box yer ears for the worry ya put me through!”

”Ow! Bob, come on-”

”Don’t you ’come on’ me, laddie!” But he released Adom’s ear, running a hand through his own wild red and grey hair. He muttered something in the old tongue that made the snow around his feet briefly melt.

”What was that?” Valiant asked.

”None of yer business, that’s what!” Bob snapped, then turned back to Adom. ”At least tell me ya solved whatever mess ya got yerself into?”

Adom and Valiant exchanged glances.

”Not... exactly,” Adom admitted.

Bob’s face darkened. ”What’s that supposed to mean?”

”Maybe we could discuss this somewhere warmer?” Valiant suggested, teeth chattering. ”Preferably with food?”

”Ach, ya both look half-frozen.” Bob’s expression softened slightly. ”Should get ya somewhere warm before-” He paused, something crossing his face. ”Though I suppose ya should know... yer parents have been in quite the state.”

Everything stopped. The cold, the wind, the snow - it all fell away. Adom’s eyes went wide.

”My parents?”

”Yeah, about that...” Bob tugged at his beard, a habit Adom knew meant trouble. ”Ya might wanna sit down for this, lad.”

Adom looked up from his spot in the snow, one eyebrow raised. ”Bob, I’m literally sitting in frozen water right now. How much more seated would you like me to be?”

Valiant snorted, quickly turning it into a cough when Bob shot him a glare.

”Yer da’s about to rebel against the Empire.”

The words hung in the freezing air. No one spoke. Even the wind seemed to pause, letting snowflakes drift silently around them.

Somewhere in the distance, a branch cracked under the weight of ice.

”...what?” Adom’s voice barely carried through the falling snow.

Bob exhaled, his breath misting. ”Ya remember sending me to get yer father, telling him ya were in trouble? Well, by the time we arrived, you vanished. No trace. Nothing.” He kicked at the snow. ”He started asking questions. Searching. But every lead went cold.”

The wind howled between them. Adom sat perfectly still, listening.

”Then the Crown Prince showed up in the city few weeks back. Told yer father to stand down - said he was causing too much chaos for a Star Knight of his rank.” Bob’s face darkened. ”Said they were ’handling’ the investigation, but wouldn’t give any answers about what happened at the academy, where ya disappeared.”

Valiant’s head snapped up. ”Wait - his father’s a Star Knight?”

”689th Commander of the Iron Wolves,” Bob nodded. ”Four hundred of the finest Star Knights in the Empire.” He glanced at Adom. ”I meself was surprised.”

Adom’s hands clenched in his lap. He’d known involving his father would draw attention - that’s exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. But with Gale in the picture, another Star Knight and a mage to boot, he’d had no choice. But to this extent...

Holy fucking shit.

”The Iron-” Valiant’s whiskers twitched rapidly. ”Those are the elite corps that-”

”Aye. And when the Prince ordered him to stop searching, with no explanation...” Bob shook his head. ”Well, yer father called in his entire battalion.” Adom’s head dropped in a deep sigh. ”The Prince didn’t like that - said he was overstepping. The argument got heated. Yer father demanded to investigate the Undertow, said something wasn’t right about the whole thing.”

Snow collected on Adom’s shoulders as he sat, unmoving.

”W-what happened now?” asked Valiant.

”Now?” Bob continued, ”Yer father’s given the Empire an ultimatum. Either they open the city gates and let him conduct a proper investigation into yer disappearance, or explain what really happened at the academy.” He paused. ”Or he’ll come in and find out himself, permission or not.”

”And the Empire?” Valiant asked quietly.

”Sent fifteen hundred imperial troops to Arkhos. They’re waiting at the gates.” Bob’s voice grew grave. ”Both sides are dug in. One wrong move, and...”

The wind filled the silence that followed until Valiant’s small voice broke it. ”But... Adom’s back now. Won’t that fix everything?”

Adom pushed himself up, snow falling from his shoulders. His legs felt unsteady. ”It’ll make things worse.” He brushed more snow from his shoulder. ”Think about it. My father raised an army because I vanished. If I just walk back in now...” He let out a shaky breath. ”They’ll say I ran away. That my father mobilized the Iron Wolves for nothing. Started a rebellion over a rebellious son.”

Another shiver ran through him, and this time it wasn’t just from the cold. He tilted his head up, watching grey clouds spill endless snow over the world. ”I just crawled out of a dungeon, and now...”

”Why not just tell the truth?” Valiant asked.

Bob shot the mouse a look. ”For someone who managed to escape a dungeon, yer not exactly the brightest spark in the forge, are ya?”

”Hey!” Valiant’s tail bristled. He was quiet for a moment, then: ”Oh. Oh shit.”

”The Crown Prince had his reasons for blocking the investigation.” Adom’s voice trembled slightly. ”Reasons that probably involve him. If I show up now...” He wrapped his arms around himself. ”Best case? They label me a runaway. No one believes anything else, no matter what I say. My father loses all credibility - and at his level, that’s as good as a death sentence.” The snow kept falling, collecting in his hair. ”And then things get worse. Much worse.”

”Ya should go see them,” Bob said, his voice softening. ”Yer mother’s there too. Sweet lady, worried sick about ya.”

Adom’s face softened for a moment, almost saying yes, then he straightened. ”I will. Today. But I need help first.” He pulled his thin clothes tighter. ”And somewhere to stay - can’t go back to the academy now.”

”What d’ya need?”

”Proper clothes. Warm cloaks. For all of us.” He glanced at Valiant. ”And... I need you to tell my parents where I’m going.”

Bob’s face darkened. ”For feck’s sake, lad, ya can’t keep running off-”

”I’m not running,” Adom cut in. ”But if we want to end this, we need proof. About the Children of the Moon, about what they’re doing. I need to prepare first.” He met Bob’s glare. ”After you help with that... bring my parents to me?”

”Where?” Bob growled.

Adom turned toward Arkhos, squinting slightly. His vision, though better than before - good enough to go without glasses now - was still weak, but improving. Through the falling snow, he could make out shapes in the harbor.

”The Veyshari usually leave when winter comes, but...” He pointed toward the beach. ”Their ship’s still there. Probably stayed because of all this chaos.” He lowered his hand. ”I’ll ask them for shelter, for now.”

Bob stared at Adom for a long moment, then dragged a hand down his face. ”The Veyshari. Ya disappear for weeks, the Empire’s about to have a civil war, and yer planning to hide out with the bloody Veyshari.” He let out a harsh laugh. ”Perfect. Just perfect. Why not throw in a few pirates and maybe a demon while we’re at it?”

He paced a few steps, snow crunching under his boots. ”Ya know what? Fine. I’ll get yer clothes. I’ll tell yer parents. But ya better have a damn good plan beyond ’let’s hide with the nomads and gather proof.’ Because right now?” He gestured toward the city. ”There’s fifteen hundred imperial soldiers down there who aren’t gonna care much about proof once the fighting starts.”

He stopped, turning back to Adom. ”And yer father? He’s not gonna sit quiet once he knows where ya are. Man’s been ready to burn down half the Empire looking for ya.”

Then Bob vanished.

Valiant shook his head. ”What a grumpy leprechaun...”

”Aren’t they all?” Adom said.

”RIGHT?!” Valiant’s tail swished excitedly. ”I didn’t want to say anything, you know, don’t want to stereotype and all that, but I always heard leprechauns were grumpy. First one I ever meet and - surprise! - grumpy as can be. Coincidence? I think-”

Bob materialized right in front of Valiant’s face, making the mouse squeak and stumble backward into the snow. A bundle of clothes hit Adom in the chest.

”That was fast...” Valiant looked around. ”Hey, where are mine?”

”Nothing in yer size,” Bob grunted. ”Yer small enough to fit in his pocket. Nice and warm in there.”

Valiant’s whiskers bristled. ”Now listen here, you-”

”Alright, alright,” Adom cut in, already pulling on the heavy cloak and warmer clothes. The fabric was thick, well-made. ”Thanks, Bob.”

They exchanged nods, Bob’s expression softening slightly. ”Just make sure ya don’t vanish into another dungeon before I bring yer parents, yeah?”

Adom nodded again, and Bob disappeared into thin air, leaving them alone in the falling snow.

Adom exhaled deeply, examining the clothes Bob had brought. Everything was exactly his size - thick wool socks, sturdy leather boots lined with fur, dark trousers, a warm tunic, and a heavy cloak with deep pockets. The fabric was high quality, dyed in deep blues and greys. There was even a pair of gloves. Had Bob been keeping these ready?

”We better g-” He started to open his cloak.

Before he could finish, Valiant had already darted into the pocket, rustling around before settling. ”Hate to admit it, but that grumpy leprechaun was right. It is nice and warm in here.”

A small smile tugged at Adom’s lips. ”Just stay quiet, alright? We need to get through Arkhos, find a strider, and make it to the beach.” He adjusted his cloak. ”That means no weird popping sounds with your mouth, no commentary, nothing.”

”I’ll try,” Valiant said, then added under his breath, ”No promises though.”

Adom shook his head and started walking, snow crunching under his new boots as they headed toward the city, leaving their footprints to slowly fill with fresh snow behind them.

*****

It took them almost two hours to reach the city. Adom stuck to the paths he’d discovered during his years here - narrow alleys between buildings, service entrances, gaps in the old walls where stones had fallen away. The hood of his cloak was pulled low, a strip of cloth covering his face below his eyes. Only his blue eyes were visible, scanning the streets constantly.

Arkhos felt wrong. The usual bustle was gone, replaced by an eerie quiet broken only by the crunch of boots in snow. Imperial soldiers patrolled in groups of three or four, their red uniforms stark against the white ground. The few civilians hurried past with their heads down, darting from doorway to doorway like scared rabbits. Shops were closed, windows dark. The snow kept falling, making everything look softer than it was.

He stopped abruptly. There, posted on a wall, was a notice with his face - a sketch from his first year, showing him smiling next to Sam. His hair was shorter then, his face rounder. The word ’MISSING’ was printed below in bold letters.

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Sam. He wondered how his friend was doing, and Eren too. A bitter ache filled his chest as he remembered their meals together in the city, laughing over Old Mary’s meat pies. He glanced toward her place now - closed. Another casualty of the current situation.

”Stop squirming,” he murmured as Valiant shifted in his pocket.

”Just getting comfortable,” the mouse whispered back. ”Do you know how hard it is to find the right spot in a pocket? There’s always a seam or a fold in exactly the wrong place...”

”Shh.” Adom kept walking, keeping to the shadows. More soldiers passed, their hands on their weapons, eyes suspicious of everyone they saw.

”Oh no...”

An apple rolled across the snowy ground, stopping at Adom’s feet. He picked it up, its red skin bright against his gloved hand. It was firm, heavy - the kind that would burst with juice at the first bite. His mouth watered; after weeks of nothing but monster chicken and water...

Movement caught his eye. An old man was struggling to gather several apples that had spilled from his bag. His back was curved like a bow, shoulders hunched from decades of life. White hair dusted with snow, hands gnarled and trembling slightly as they reached for the fallen fruits.

Looking at those shaking hands brought back memories of Adom’s own aged body from his past life - the frustration of simple tasks becoming battles. The old man’s broad shoulders and the way he carried himself, even now, showed he must have been quite strong once. Time spares no one, Adom thought, briefly wondering if his healing factor would change that this time around.

Something in his chest tightened - not everyone got the chance to live that long, to see their hair turn white and their hands wrinkle. And here he was, alone in the cold, trying to carry his apples home.

”Here you are, sir.”

The old man looked up, cloudy eyes crinkling behind wire-rimmed spectacles. Deep lines carved paths around his mouth and eyes. ”Ah, thank you, young man. These old hands aren’t what they used to be.” His voice was soft, cultured, with the slight tremor age brings.

”Let me help you with those.” Adom gathered the remaining apples, careful not to bruise them.

”Such a kind boy,” the old man said warmly, his cloudy eyes crinkling. A patrol of soldiers marched past, and both of them paused, waiting in the uncomfortable silence until the sound of boots faded away. ”Not many take the time anymore. Everyone’s too busy watching their backs these days, rushing about...”

As Adom helped steady the bag, the old man tilted his head, studying him with a gentle curiosity. ”You remind me of someone, you know. Something in the way you move, careful-like. And those eyes...” He chuckled softly. ”My wife, God rest her soul, she had eyes just that blue. Like summer skies, she did.”

”I’m sorry for your loss,” Adom said quietly, meaning it. The old man’s voice had softened at the mention of his wife.

”Oh, it’s been years now. But kind of you to say.” He tried to adjust his grip on the bag, hands trembling slightly. ”Used to be able to carry twice this much without thinking. Now look at me - can barely manage a few apples.”

”Time catches up with all of us,” Adom said, the words carrying the weight of personal experience.

”That it does, boy. That it does.”

That’s when Adom’s stomach, that traitor, chose to growl loudly.

”Oh my,” the old man paused, already reaching into his bag. ”You must take a few apples.”

”No, I couldn’t-”

”I insist. They’re from the farmer mage’s orchard, you know. That special apple tree of his.”

Adom blinked. ”That tree’s bearing fruit? In winter?”

”Started a few weeks ago. The Duke’s been having them distributed at the farm - anyone who comes gets a few. They’re quite remarkable.” He pressed four apples into Adom’s hands, his papery skin cool to the touch. ”A growing boy needs to eat properly.”

”I... thank you.” Adom carefully tucked the apples away.

”Take care of yourself, young man.” The old man smiled warmly, revealing a few missing teeth. ”These are dark days, but kindness still matters.”

They exchanged goodbyes, and Adom watched the old man shuffle away through the snow, his slight frame seeming so fragile against the harsh winter day.

”Can I have one?” Valiant whispered from the pocket.

”Shh.”

”Come on, I can smell them. They smell amazing.”

”Wait until we get to the cart.”

A soft but insistent tapping started against Adom’s chest. He ignored it, keeping to the shadows as they passed the weird stuff store. Through the frosted window, he caught a glimpse of Emma arranging trinkets on the counter. Still no sign of Mr. Biggins. He pushed down his curiosity - other mysteries would have to wait.

The tapping continued.

”For the love of-” Adom muttered, then caught himself as a patrol passed.

Finding a strider wasn’t hard - several carts waited near the market square, their drivers huddled together for warmth. The creatures themselves stood patiently in the snow.

”Beach fare?” Adom asked the nearest driver, a middle-aged man with a weather-beaten face.

”Two silvers.”

”Done.”

The tapping became more insistent as Adom climbed into the cart. With a resigned sigh, he pulled an apple from his cloak and dropped it into his pocket. The assault on his chest stopped immediately, replaced by happy munching sounds.

Adom took a bite of his own apple. The juice burst across his tongue, sweet and crisp, with an odd warmth that spread through his chest. Then he felt it - a surge of energy, familiar yet strange.

[+4 Mana]

[+1 Mana]

He nearly choked. Another bite.

[+3 Mana]

[+2 Mana]

The farmer mage’s tree hadn’t produced fruit since Law’s death thousands of years ago. He’d read about its apples, of course - their properties, their power. But to actually taste one...

A rough laugh came from the front of the cart. ”Good, ain’t they?”

Adom quickly pulled the cloth back over his face as the driver half-turned. ”Yes. Very.”

”Best I’ve ever had. Weird though, that old tree suddenly bearing fruit after all this time.” The driver clicked his tongue, urging the strider forward. ”My gran used to say there was a spirit in it, keeping the apples from growing. Said it was waiting for something.”

”Waiting?” Despite himself, Adom was curious. After everything he’d seen lately...

”Aye. Story goes the tree was planted by Law himself - used to feed whole villages with those apples during the old wars.” The driver shrugged. ”My gran said it stopped bearing fruit when he died, like it was mourning him or something. Sounds like nonsense, but...” He gestured at the snow-covered streets. ”Strange times we’re living in. Maybe it just felt like giving fruit again.”

Adom took another bite, feeling the mana flow into him. A few weeks ago, he might have dismissed it all as superstition. Now? After everything he’d seen? He watched the snow fall, thinking of ancient magic and the ways it lingered in the world, working by its own rules that no one fully understood.

”Your gran might have been onto something,” he said quietly.

The driver just nodded, and they rode on in silence through the white streets, the strider’s claws clicking against the cobblestones.

*****

Two hours later, the cart rolled to a stop at the beach road. Adom pulled five silver pieces from his inventory and handed them to the driver.

”Sure you don’t want me to wait?” the man asked, pocketing the coins. ”Beach gets mighty cold at night.”

”I’ll be fine, thank you.”

The driver shrugged, clicked his tongue, and the strider turned around, its clawed feet leaving deep tracks in the snow.

The beach stretched out before them, white and endless under the winter sky. Waves crashed against the shore, dark and foaming, throwing up occasional chunks of ice. The wind carried salt and snow, biting at exposed skin.

Valiant poked his head out of the pocket. ”Got any more of those exquisite apples?”

”Here.” Adom dropped another apple into his pocket. ”Last two.”

”These are incredible,” Valiant said between bites. ”Never tasted anything like it. Sweet, but there’s something else too. Like... sunshine, if sunshine had a taste.”

Adom bit into his own apple. ”Magic apples. Who would’ve thought?”

They walked along the shoreline, their footprints - one set of boots and tiny mouse paws - quickly filling with fresh snow. The beach looked different in winter. During summer, it would be full of merchants, sailors, and children playing in the surf. Now it was empty, the dunes wearing caps of white like old men.

”You sure these Veyshari people will help?” Valiant asked, wiping juice from his whiskers.

”They helped before.”

”Yeah, but you said that was when you needed a curse broken. But hiding from the Empire?” Valiant’s tail swished nervously. ”That’s different.”

”The Veyshari don’t care much for empires or kingdoms. They follow their own laws.”

”If you say so...” Valiant ducked back into the pocket as another gust of wind howled past.

They walked in silence for a while, until Adom spotted an orange glow in the distance. As they got closer, he could make out the massive bonfire, its flames reaching higher than the surrounding tents.

”Ready to meet some interesting people?” Adom asked his pocket.

”As long as they have food,” came the muffled reply. ”I’m already missing those apples.”

Adom smiled and walked toward the firelight.

A child’s voice cut through the winter air: ”Dikhen! Šošoj murš!”

More small figures appeared on the dunes, pointing and waving. Their excited chatter carried across the beach as they bounced in place, their colorful winter clothes bright against the snow.

Valiant gripped the edge of the pocket tighter. ”They’re not going to try to catch me, are they?”

”I think they just think you’re cute.”

As if to prove his point, one of the smaller children broke away from the group, running toward them through the snow while shouting ”Šošoj! Šošoj!” Her older sister chased after her, catching her before she got too close.

The first drums started, a steady rhythm that seemed to match their footsteps in the snow. More people emerged from between the tents, adults this time, their faces curious but not unwelcoming.

”There sure are a lot of them,” Valiant muttered, shrinking further into the pocket. ”And they’re all staring at us.”

”Well, you are a talking mouse.”

”And you’re a child mage. We’re quite the pair.”

A group of women near the fire paused in their work to watch them approach. One nudged another, pointing at Adom and saying something that made them all nod. Did they recognize him?

”At least there’s food cooking,” Valiant noted, his nose twitching. ”Something with meat. And... is that bread?”

The drums picked up tempo as they got closer, joined by the first pipes. Children darted around them now, keeping a respectful distance but clearly bursting with curiosity about the mouse peeking out of Adom’s pocket.

”Just... try not to bite anyone,” Adom whispered.

”I am a gentleman, I’ll have you know,” Valiant replied with mock offense. ”Even if they do smell like they’ve been handling cheese.”

Mirko’s massive form emerged from between the tents, his wild white hair and beard now adorned with small bells that jingled as he walked. His eyes lit up with recognition as Adom took off the piece covering his face.

”Ah! Little mage returns!” He spread his arms wide. ”Welcome, welcome back to our fires!”

”Hmm?” His bushy eyebrows rose as he spotted Valiant. ”What this? Another curse need breaking? Price same as last time - one hundred gold pieces!”

”I am not cursed!” Valiant’s chest puffed up, whiskers bristling with indignation. ”I was born this way, thank you very much!”

”Ah.” Mirko stroked his beard, nodding sagely. ”Sorry then, little šošoj.”

The way he said it left both Adom and Valiant wondering if he was apologizing for suggesting Valiant was cursed, or expressing sympathy for Valiant’s natural state of being.

Adom had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

”Manly man!” A voice called out from somewhere behind the tents. ”Is that you?”

Adom froze.

”Who’s ’manly man’?” Valiant whispered, still looking somewhat miffed about the curse comment.

”Long story,” Adom muttered, trying to look at the familiar voice’s owner.

Morgana stepped into the firelight, wearing a heavy Veyshari winter dress with intricate embroidery. Her hair was braided in their style now, decorated with small silver bells like Mirko’s.

”Hi Morgana,” Adom said, and her face lit up with a warm smile.

”I’m so glad you’re alright.” She moved closer, concern evident in her eyes. ”I went into the city last week. Saw Sam with some of those club members of yours, putting up missing person notices everywhere, asking anyone who’d listen if they’d seen you.”

Adom’s stomach twisted with guilt. ”Yeah, I... I saw them too.”

She tilted her head, studying his face. ”That’s new,” she said, gesturing to the white streak in his hair. ”Trying something different?”

For a moment, Adom was back in that dungeon, feeling the life being pulled from him, watching Death smiling at him, and all he could do was smile back. He swallowed hard. ”Something like that.”

”It suits you,” she said simply, and he could tell she knew there was more to it but wasn’t going to push. ”Makes you look distinguished.”

”Thanks,” he managed, grateful for her tact.

”Ah!” Mirko clapped his hands together. ”So you cause all this trouble, yes? City guards very angry. Say no one leave islands until idiot prince say so.” He shook his head, bells jingling. ”Big mess!”

”Anen paj thud!” Mirko called out to someone behind him, then turned back to them. ”Too cold for talk here. Veyshari no like cold. We sit, drink warm milk, then talk.”

He gestured toward the massive bonfire, where several people were already arranging cushions and blankets.

As they moved toward the fire, Morgana finally noticed Valiant who went back in Adom’s pocket. ”Oh, hello there,” she said, bending slightly to get a better look.

Valiant seemed to shrink back, his whiskers twitching nervously.

”Everything alright?” Adom asked, confused by his friend’s reaction. ”Wait... can beastkin be attracted to humans?”

”Oh god, no!” Valiant sounded horrified. He looked up at the equally confused Morgana. ”It’s just... you have the same aura as a cat. It’s... unsettling.”

Morgana chuckled, settling down on one of the cushions. ”Well, I was one for quite a while.”

”You were what?” Valiant poked his head out further, curiosity overcoming his nervousness.

”It’s another long story,” Adom said, accepting a steaming cup from a young woman. ”Involving curse-breaking and raw sheep hearts.”

”Raw sheep-” Valiant started, then shook his head. ”You know what? I don’t want to know. This week has been strange enough already.”

”So...” Adom wrapped his hands around the warm cup. ”I need a place to stay, just for a while.”

”Ah!” Mirko’s face brightened. ”Little mage want stay with Veyshari? Of course, of course! After all, you bring ranji to us!” He gestured toward Morgana with a proud smile. ”She very good for tribe!”

Adom looked at Morgana questioningly. She just smiled and spoke, ”Nais tuke, Mirko,” then switched to normal speech, ”but you flatter me.”

”No, no! Only truth from Mirko’s mouth! Always truth!” He tapped his chest firmly.

Adom blinked. ”You already speak their language?”

”It’s been almost two months,” Morgana shrugged. ”I used to study languages, back before... well, before everything. It’s not so different from some dialects I know.”

Mirko nodded enthusiastically, his bells creating a cheerful symphony. ”We supposed to leave before first snow. Veyshari not made for winter, you see? But guards block roads, block ports-”

”I’m so sorry,” Adom started, but Mirko waved his apology away.

”Bah! Not your fault. Prince idiots, guards idiots. Think they own everything, own everyone.” He spat into the fire. ”But!” His face lit up again. ”Ranji show us how make proper winter clothes! From our own sheep! No need buy expensive cloth from city merchants!”

”They’re quite good at weaving and embroidery,” Morgana added. ”They just needed to adjust the technique for warmer materials.”

”Yes, yes!” Mirko beamed. ”And now, if little mage stay, we have two sorcerers! And genius who beats winter!” He threw his head back and laughed, the sound booming across the camp. ”First time in history - Veyshari stay through snow and laugh at cold!”

Valiant poked his head out. ”Does this mean we get to stay somewhere warm?”

”Of course!” Mirko exclaimed. ”Veyshari always take care of friends. Even tiny mouse friends who not cursed!” He winked at Valiant, who couldn’t decide whether to be offended or amused.

Mirko clapped his hands together. ”Not to worry! We hide little mage in plain sight. All wear same clothes, same colors - who tell one from other?” He gestured toward the tents. ”Guards come, you just another Veyshari learning to weave. Or maybe tend sheep, yes?”

A young woman approached with a large platter, steam rising into the cold air. The scent of freshly baked bread filled Adom’s nostrils.

”Ah! Marikli!” Mirko beamed. ”Best bread in all camps. Watch, watch!”

The bread was flattened against the clay walls of a dome-shaped oven, baking until golden brown. As it came off, they spread melted cheese over the top, letting it bubble and brown. The first bite was heaven - crispy outside, soft inside, the cheese sharp and rich.

”This is amazing,” Valiant declared, already on his third piece. He had gathered quite an audience of children, sitting cross-legged in the snow around him. ”But you should have seen the dungeon! There I was, leading my trusted companion - the little mage here - through darkness and danger!”

The children leaned forward, entranced. One small boy offered Valiant another piece of cheese-covered bread.

”Brave mouse,” an older girl said solemnly. ”Like in old stories.”

”Oh, I’m much braver than those stories,” Valiant winked, accepting the bread. ”Did I tell you about the time we faced the guardian?”

Morgana caught Adom’s eye and smiled. ”He’s good with them.”

”He’s good at telling tales, you mean,” Adom replied, but he was smiling too.

A woman brought them warm milk sweetened with honey - ”Paj thud,” Morgana explained. The heat spread through Adom’s chest, chasing away the last of the winter chill.

”Xaiben!” someone called, and more platters appeared - roasted meat with herbs, stewed vegetables, something that looked like dumplings in a rich broth.

”Sarmi,” Mirko explained, pointing to cabbage rolls stuffed with meat and rice. ”And here, pišot - best you ever taste!”

The food was hearty, meant to ward off winter’s bite. Adom couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten so well. Even in the academy’s dining hall, meals had never felt this... warm. This right.

Then a child’s voice cut through the comfortable atmosphere: ”Aven manuš!”

More voices joined in: ”Manuš! Manuš!”

Adom’s head snapped up. Three figures approached through the snow, their forms dark against the white landscape. His heart stuttered in his chest.

He would know them anywhere.

His mother walked with the same grace she always had, her dark cloak billowing in the winter wind. Even at this distance, he could see her hands moving as she spoke - she’d always talked with her hands. Her hair would be streaked with more silver now, he knew, but her eyes would be the same warm brown that had watched over his fevers, celebrated his victories, comforted his defeats.

And his father... The way he moved, measured and deliberate, every step placed with purpose - Adom had that same walk. People used to comment on it, how the son moved just like the father. The Star Knight’s cloak couldn’t hide the straight spine, the squared shoulders. His father had always carried himself like he was wearing his armor, even in civilian clothes.

Bob led them, his wild red hair visible even from here. He gestured as he walked, probably explaining something - knowing Bob, complaining about something.

The drums picked up a new rhythm, welcoming and strong. Children ran past, bells jingling, bright clothes flashing against the snow.

Adom stood, his legs unsteady. The firelight caught his mother’s face as she looked up, and he saw the exact moment she recognized him. Her step faltered. Her hand flew to her mouth.

His father stopped too, going completely still in that way he had - like a sword being drawn.

Somewhere behind him, Valiant was still telling stories to the children. Mirko was saying something about proper greetings. Morgana touched his arm briefly, a gesture of support.

But all Adom could see was his mother starting to run, his father’s long strides eating up the distance, and Bob, that old grump, wiping suspiciously at his eyes as he watched them close the gap between them.