Three days had passed since the Lamir hunting party and the adventurers departed from Froikton. By evening, the group veered off the westward road and halted their wagons in a forest clearing. Several campfires flickered to life around the wagons.
As Gravel and Iris prepared to start a fire at a suitable distance, Rude appeared out of nowhere, carrying an armful of firewood and inviting himself to join them.
Perhaps because it was the third day, the awkward tension between the hired adventurers and the drake hunters had noticeably eased compared to the first day. Laughter and tales of past adventures echoed here and there around the camp.
Gravel, warming himself by the fire, was listening to Clau boast about his massive spear, the Blast Spear. Even at a glance, the spear was longer than Clau was tall. Its entirely metallic construction, devoid of any wood, gave it a hefty, imposing appearance. The spearhead was unlike those of common soldiers or adventurers, it was massive, spanning over two handspans. A foothold protruded from the middle of the shaft, which Clau explained was for bracing a foot to drive the spear deeper into a drake's hide.
As Clau continued his explanation, he twirled the spear's handle and detached it from the shaft.
"This is why it's called the Blast Spear." he said. "Though some folks just call it the Beast Lance."
Inside the detached handle was a small mana stone, roughly the size of a pebble.
"With the power of this charged mana stone, you can drive the spear even deeper!"
Clau mimed thrusting the spear into the air.
"Whoa! So, like, does it shoot out flames and go BOOM?!" Rude, who had been listening intently, spread his arms wide, mimicking an explosion.
"No flames, but it does explode." Clau replied, pointing to a spot just in front of the foothold.
"The explosion from this part of the spear drives it even deeper into the target."
Clau paused his explanation and handed the mana stone to Gravel, asking if the great mage could infuse it with mana for the upcoming hunt. Though the stone was already partially charged, Gravel obliged, pouring mana into it at Clau's request to push it to its limit.
Taking the recharged stone, Clau continued showing off the hunting party's gear. He pulled out spiked riding boots designed to be strapped onto shoes, a large iron grappling hook worn at the waist, and more, his enthusiastic chatter showing no signs of slowing. As the night deepened, the group added the last logs to the campfire and settled into their portable bedding laid out on the ground. Gravel, too, unrolled his curled-up bedding, spread it out, and drifted off to sleep.
On the fourth day, the hunting party was abuzz with activity from dawn. They needed to clear the forest before sunset, so everyone moved quickly, far from the leisurely morning of days past. Some, still groggy, trudged alongside the wagons, leaning on them for support, half-dozing as they walked.
Navigating through the forest, weaving the wagons between trees, was far more arduous and time-consuming than traveling on open roads, despite covering the same distance.
After hours of traversing the woodland, the trees began to thin. By afternoon, they emerged from the forest into an area with fewer trees. In the distance, a massive rocky mountain loomed, sparsely dotted with trees. Closer by, several towering stone pillars rose like columns, their natural formation almost unbelievable. The sight evoked the feeling of standing before a roofless temple. Enormous stone spires, reminiscent of stalagmites in a cave, jutted upward, crowned with patches of grass and trees.
"We're not there yet! We need to head a bit further down!" someone shouted, directing the group, who had paused, awestruck by the overwhelming landscape.
"Down to the right, toward the canyon below. That's our destination!"
"It's almost time. Just a little more effort, everyone!" Clau's voice rang out. Perhaps to rally the exhausted group, who hadn't even stopped for lunch, he climbed onto a high perch on a wagon, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted even louder.
All eyes turned toward the direction Clau indicated. There, between two mountains, lay a canyon. Its rugged gray and brown stone walls were overgrown with countless small, nameless plants and trees. At the canyon's entrance, more of the stone pillars they'd seen upon exiting the forest stood tightly packed, like the ornate columns of a grand structure, each rising to a different height.
The group descended the slope and stopped the wagons at a spot some distance from the canyon's entrance. As they unloaded essential supplies, the sky darkened, and two moons cast their light over the scene below.
Campfires illuminated the area around the wagons, and the group bustled with activity. The sounds of hammering wooden stakes to set up tents, metal harpoons and wooden crates clattering as they were unloaded, and voices directing where items should go filled the air with a lively clamor.
Only after the sun had fully set and darkness enveloped the area did the noise subside, replaced by the chirping of birds and the hum of insects.
At the center of the now-established camp, a large bonfire roared. Lusen, the hunting party's cook, and his assistant Parat, moved busily. Lusen, preparing a proper meal for the first time in days, put extra effort into his work. He gripped three wine bottles between his fingers and poured their contents into a massive iron cauldron.
"Hahaha! Finally, a meal worthy of the name!" Lusen bellowed.
"Whoa, that smells amazing! What's cooking?" Wellen, passing by with a blast spear slung over his shoulder and a crate in hand, was drawn by the savory, sweet aroma wafting from the cauldron.
"It's called Drake Boiling Pot." Lusen explained. "You take big chunks of drake meat—sadly, not fresh, but still good—cook it in grapeseed oil with tomatoes, garlic, onions, and my very special blend of spices. It looks simple, but it's tough to get it this perfect!"
"Oooh!" Wellen exclaimed.
"Damn it! I forgot the herbs,." Lusen muttered. "Stir this for me, Wellen."
Lusen turned toward a nearby tent, leaving Wellen in charge.
"Huh? me? why?!" Wellen protested, looking around frantically. "Where's Parat? Your little assistant was just here!"
"Parat's probably digging through the wagons for the crate with the grape leaves. Wrapping the meat in those leaves makes it even tastier." Lusen called back.
"Tch, hurry up! If you're not back soon, I'm leaving this!" Wellen shouted.
"I'll be right there! Keep stirring—don't stop, or you'll ruin it!" Lusen replied.
Grumbling, Wellen set down his spear and crate, grabbed the ladle, and began stirring the cauldron vigorously.
"But seriously, why's it called Boiling Pot when you're using a cauldron? It's got nothing to do with a pot…" Wellen muttered to himself.
As Wellen stirred, the rich aroma of the meat and a sugary sweetness wafted from the cauldron, drawing people in. Those unloading wagons, others chewing on jerky from their pockets, and even someone hiding behind a rock for a sneaky break, all were lured by the scent spreading through the camp.
"Whoa, that smells incredible!" "Whoa, that smells incredible!" Clau and Rude, drawn by the aroma, sniffed the air and, as if rehearsed, said the exact same thing in unison, like actors in a play.
"Huh? Wellen, you're cooking now?!" Rude asked, wide-eyed and practically drooling.
"What? No! Lusen just asked me to watch this for a bit and stir it." Wellen replied.
"So, can we eat it yet? I'm starving…" Rude asked, swallowing hard.
"Well… Lusen went to grab something he forgot, but it smells ready to me. Wanna sneak a taste?" Wellen said, inhaling the aroma deeply.
"Alright, I'll be the taste-tester!" Wellen declared, scooping up a large chunk of meat with the ladle and bringing it toward his mouth.
Just as he opened wide to take a bite, a thick, muscular arm grabbed the ladle, stopping him cold.
"Who's eating my food without the chef's permission?! You craving a shorter life?" It was Lusen, one hand gripping the ladle and the other holding a small pouch that looked oddly delicate in his grip.
"I-I just… it smelled so good…" Wellen stammered, quickly setting the ladle down and grabbing his spear and crate to retreat.
"Ahem! Attention, adventurers joining this hunt and you Lamir hunting party ruffians! Feast your senses on Lusen's masterpiece: the Drake Boiling Pot!" Lusen's booming voice echoed through the camp.
As he finished his proclamation, he sprinkled the contents of the small pouch into the cauldron, unleashing an even more perfect, intensified aroma. Drawn by the irresistible scent, people gathered, and plates of food and cups of wine were passed around.
"Mmm, this fullness in every bite!"
"The sweet aroma that lingers in your nose, pure perfection!"
The clinking of cups and bursts of laughter filled the air. Accompanied by the food and drink, Leutang began playing a small stringed instrument, joined by Lat, Eto, and Uuk, who brought out drums to add to the music. Lusen and Parat worked even faster, serving new dishes and refilling empty plates in a flash. The night turned into a brief festival, and as it wound down, everyone drifted off to sleep, bellies full and content after a long day.