Chapter 45 - The Cocky Crumble

The wagon rattled toward Glimmerfen like a drunk skeleton, each bump threatening to send us into the nearest ditch. I lounged in the back, glowing faintly from the First Loaf's power, feeling like the gods had personally baked me into a hero. My crew—Lilith, Vorren, Jex, Yvra, Mister Fog, and the King's walking disasters, Sir Thrain and Sir Gorrim—were less impressed. Lilith drove, her scythe glinting like it was ready to divorce me from my ego. Vorren sharpened a knife that could probably cut through a mountain. Jex clutched his apple sack, muttering about dragons eating him first. Yvra sat upfront, her princess glare sharper than ever, probably regretting every life choice that led her here. Mister Fog floated above, sipping tea that smelled like burnt hopes. Thrain gripped the reins, his backward helmet wobbling like a bad decision, while Gorrim polished his broken sword hilt, muttering about "scabbard treachery."