One more look at the chainmail spread on a rocky part of his dwelling, and Arthur acted.
He had difficulties not to smirk, and sometimes exale a laugh. His dearest wish was never to become someone like Uther Aethersworn. He caressed the back of his left hand, cherishing it like a newly acquired treasure without even thinking about it.
He loved to change no matter what he was becoming. As long as he was putting distance
Using fire magic, he broke the mail one after the other and rounded up the sharp edges with the heat. The clumps of molten metal accumulated into big drops, resembling coins, and cooled down when not in range of Arthur's spell.
Sometime later, half a kilogram of the chainmail had vanished, it was now weighing down on Arthur's stomach. Weirdly enough, the digestion process helped Arthur fall asleep.
Five days later, the group passed next to a village in which they bought food stocks and let their mounts rest for a few hours.
