Alric continued chatting casually as he tried on a new pair of pants, “You said you were an entertainer right? Well that’s got to be hard work. You don’t want to hear me try to sing, and I’d make a fool of myself juggling.” He began tugging the pants back off, they didn’t fit on his thighs. Tight pants were one thing, but these didn’t even want to come back off.
“I used to be a scholar’s apprentice, if many of my soldiers knew me then, they’d have probably called me soft. Long days studying dusty tomes or trying to sketch birds in flight might sound like a breeze to a field hand, but work is work,” he concluded. He hoped he got his point across. To his late master’s deep frustration, Alric had never been the most eloquent student. Constantly telling him, Your writing is functional, but it lacks beauty.
He looked up at Paks, she seemed to lounge even when she stood in the middle of a room. “At least you’ve got the play hard part down,” he said with a smile, “Elsewise, you’d be utterly boring.” He pulled on a new pair of black trousers. They were excessively long, but at least they fit on his thighs. “Eh, I guess I’ll just hem them,” he said to himself folding them and placing them on the table.
“You’re right though, well to a degree, I did come here looking for some kind of camaraderie. I also wanted a cause worth fighting for and a chance to travel. One thing I learned in the army, why drink good beer all the time in the same old town, when you can sample the beer in a new town? Well, food and night life in general I guess. Terrible reasons to want to become a Warder, but I’m good with a sword, and the mercenary life just isn’t for me.”
“So,” he began, as he tried on a new coat, “Have you found many chances to play hard here in Hama Valon?”
“I used to be a scholar’s apprentice, if many of my soldiers knew me then, they’d have probably called me soft. Long days studying dusty tomes or trying to sketch birds in flight might sound like a breeze to a field hand, but work is work,” he concluded. He hoped he got his point across. To his late master’s deep frustration, Alric had never been the most eloquent student. Constantly telling him, Your writing is functional, but it lacks beauty.
He looked up at Paks, she seemed to lounge even when she stood in the middle of a room. “At least you’ve got the play hard part down,” he said with a smile, “Elsewise, you’d be utterly boring.” He pulled on a new pair of black trousers. They were excessively long, but at least they fit on his thighs. “Eh, I guess I’ll just hem them,” he said to himself folding them and placing them on the table.
“You’re right though, well to a degree, I did come here looking for some kind of camaraderie. I also wanted a cause worth fighting for and a chance to travel. One thing I learned in the army, why drink good beer all the time in the same old town, when you can sample the beer in a new town? Well, food and night life in general I guess. Terrible reasons to want to become a Warder, but I’m good with a sword, and the mercenary life just isn’t for me.”
“So,” he began, as he tried on a new coat, “Have you found many chances to play hard here in Hama Valon?”