"You're Hal from the Eleventh Hearth?" asked a huge man wearing a crown made of huge feathers to me.
I have only seen the chief once when I was a child, and he certainly wasn't this huge in the past.
Perhaps he trained his body hard so he could protect our tribe from the invaders?
"Yes, I'm Hal, son of Dalo from the eleventh hearth."
The brows of the chief rose at my response, but before he could speak again, the older, head shaman stepped forth, eyes narrowed like a doubtful hawk.
"You, I remember you…"
I courageously met his gaze, not cowering one bit. I did nothing wrong except enter the temple.
Furthermore, I used my newfound powers to protect the tribe.
Surely…
Unfortunately, as it turned out, I was wrong.
"Yesterday, you couldn't even shoot a simple flaming ball. How could you be so adept at sorcery now?"
I was about to explain, but I wasn't even given a chance by the old shaman, who directly accused me.
