Taking position in the middle of the group and using his quarterstaff as a walking stick, Quasar heads south. He starts living over and over in his mind the events that brought him to walk on that very road in this very moment. Something must be at work, he decides. "My fate is set. I will either gain glory and wealth or die in some putrid cellar. Not a problem: if I didn't flee I would be rotting in a cell right now. Or be dead already". He slowly passes a finger along his neck, being grateful that it is still attached to his head. Leaving to his companions the task of paying attention to anything that could be around, he keeps analyzing his new life.
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