Sunset reflections (open)

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Welcome to the Gardens: one of the most tranquil areas of the Tower Grounds. Birds sing in the trees which line the wide paths between beautiful flower beds and serene lakes. There are benches to sit and listen to the waterfall, and there is neatly trimmed grass to lie on and rest. Novices and Soldiers as well as Warders in Training can be seen, sweeping the stone paths as Accepted and Dedicated study from books and relax under leafy trees.
Jack
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PC: Malcym Ashe

Sunset reflections (open)

Post by Jack » May 20th, 2020, 4:57 am

Malcym Ashe Malcym sat on a boulder in a part of the Tower Grounds overlooking the small lake that was part of the Grey Tower's Gardens, the setting sun causing all sorts of colors to cascade among the clouds in the heavens.

The image was powerful enough to create a gradually fading reflection in the lake itself, but the young trainee's eyes might as well focused elsewhere. The sapphire-silver gaze was a thousand leagues away, in another land, among other thoughts.

It had been nearly two weeks since he has signed his name to the rolls of the Warder Yards ranks of trainees. Two weeks had passed since he donned the grey uniform of a drin'far'ji, two weeks since he began his training.

As had been promised, he ended his days nearly dead on his feet and his muscles sore from the constant drills. In many ways, it was like his early days as a Murandy soldier, except those men sworn to serve the king often lacked the most effective training regimen.

Five years ago, as a raw recruit, he had been one of the most promising recruits to enlist, though nowhere near the nobility to earn an officer's commission. He'd certainly been one of the most disciplined, if prone to a streak of independence and speaking his mind about dodgy strategy. He'd also been fair with a sword, remarked by his drilling sergeant as “one of the rawest talent I've ever laid eyes on.”

Here, in the Warder Yards, he might as well have been in his first week all over again. Those who had been here as long as he had served in the military far surpassed him in skill and discipline. For every blow he'd land in spars, he had Five bruises to show for his effort.

If was one thing the young soldier did not lack was practical experience as a soldier. His mother Jocelyn had married well after his birth to a successful soldier who would turn moneylender, and his stepfather had seen to his education. While Erabus had never fully treated him as a son, the man had cared for Malcym enough to see he knew his letters, numbers and other subjects. Of course, he'd grown up on the stories of Jain Farstrider and the military leaders of old, and as such his interest in history took toward more martial applications.

Erabus was strangely proud to see Malcym off into the Murandy military, but only if that meant his own son, Malcym's half-brother, would inherit the business without competition.

But the recruit's mind wasn't focused on those the events of the last few weeks.

It was the events that had brought him here, the journey from Caemlyn through Camden Corelle and to Hama Vala. For weeks they had been shadowed by a wolf pack, always just beyond the short distance from camp sites or small towns the small party had stopped in for rest.

Malcym had been ordered to escort an Asha'man back to the Grey Tower, and during that time, wolves had been there, at the edge of sensation. The Asha'man, always cloaked and hooded, seemed aware of their presence … and so and Malcym. Just at the outer edge of his mind … and Light the dreams …

And then there was the white shadow the morning they had arrived within sight of Hama Valon's spires. He had been on his knees, crossbow bolts in his body and a heartbeat from death's door when mercenaries were ready to end his life.

A white blur had spurred through the forest and tore out their throats. And then it had … not spoken to him but something else …

A slight breeze raised the skin on Malcym's neck as he looked at the horizon and rustled his brown hair. A solid hour before he would have to return to his empty room. For the past several days he had come here to reflect and for solitude. He'd yet to be assigned to a bunk mate in the cell of a room, and most his nights had been restless sleeping on a thin mattress. He was more used to sleeping in a tent with a sleeping roll or hard ground.

His long blade lay within reach, sheathed. The weapon had been a gift from his mother the day he enlisted, saying it had belong to her father.

Since signing the rolls, Malcym had sought out the mysterious Asha'man who he had escorted. He knew who the man was based on the stories he had read and had been told as a child.

The young soldier had an inkling that the Asha'man knew what had occurred. What had been happening to Malcym since the departure from Caemlyn. Without luck, the man was a shadow in the Tower Halls, almost like he was two steps ahead of the drin'far'ji and a hundred leagues away.

He would have attempted to seek out other Aes Sedai or Asha'man, but it appeared his duties had since taken on a life of their own. Chores, drills, practice and studies.

Something made his eyes widen ever so slightly and the hairs on his neck stand up. He smelled it rather than heard anything, the sense of something new in the area. The silver flecks in his sapphire eyes danced in anticipation. Manmade material, nothing of nature. Human smells, not that of deer or wolf or rabbit.

Yet he stilled his hand from reaching for the curved long blade at his side. Instead he merely spoke.

"It's not nice to sneak up on someone," Malcym said calmly.
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."

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Bella
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Location: New England

Re: Sunset reflections (open)

Post by Bella » May 20th, 2020, 6:02 pm

"If I'd wanted to sneak up on you, you would not have heard me," a deep male voice said from behind the young man.

The man belonging to the voice was tall--around 6'3"--and broad, but in that well-muscled way instead of simply bulky. He was a creature honed by decades in the Warder Yards of the Grey Tower, after all, and he had all but been bred into it. His face was angles and planes, with Saldaean-slanted eyes in a startling shade of emerald green. His hair was long, blond, and tied back in a ponytail off his face.

Haeden Ives Gaidin had been on a walk through the gardens. There was much on his mind--much of a personal matter--that he wanted to consider. His Aes Sedai was busy with the last of her day's lessons so he had some time for it until he would meet up with her at their conjoined quarters, but he had happened upon an unfamiliar face. It had not precisely been his intention to approach, but the uniform was that of a Drin. Since Haeden knew all the older Drin, he had been curious as to this one.

"I do not look to intrude, however," he continued simply. Even trainees were allowed some modicum of privacy if they wished it.

Jack
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Re: Sunset reflections (open)

Post by Jack » May 20th, 2020, 11:15 pm

Malcym didn't initially look up. His mind instead raced to a recent memory, nearly a month past after his small group passed through Camden Corelle regarding the spot he sat on.

The Asha'man laughed after Malcym asked about a particular spot in the Grey Tower, secluded from other places. While the young soldier had no intention of staying longer than he had to, he was still curious about the place.

And the Asha'man. Bits and pieces were all that known of the man he escorted and he was intent to learn more.

“There's a place,” the channeler rasped. “A place secluded in the gardens, overlooking the lake. It's quiet, peaceful, and few ever venture there. It's where an old love and I would go for quiet discussions … long before the birth of our children.”

“Children?” Malcym asked.

“Twins. I married the woman, and she bore me a son and daughter,” the Asha'man said softly, his gold-green eyes flickering in the firelight. They were the only things visible beneath the cowl pulled over his head. “Not the first children, not the first wife … but there are days when I wished we never would have left that small place.”


When the man behind him spoke, it was quite apparent this place was either more well known than the channeler had led on or the person was one of those few who came here.

Malcym turned his head to look at who had interrupted his thoughts … and quickly stood up and into a straight pose.

Nearly six years of military discipline and service bred an instinctual knowledge of rank and class. The former he respected, the latter he only paid lip service to as a soldier in Murandy.

“Gaidin,” Malcym said respectfully. After a moment, his posture relaxed. He wasn't military anymore – something long overseen by his unit's new commander – but the Warder was still due the respect his rank was due and earned.

The man was taller than Malcym by at least four inches and he had … the scent … of someone who could easily dispatch the young Mayener without a second thought. A Borderlander for sure, but he seemed more familiar with this place than most Westlanders who came here. As if he were born to it.

“Apologies, ser, but I didn't hear you coming,” he said respectfully. “The scent on the wind gave away … I mean to say that you don't smell but that you stood out … “

Light, but he hated trying to explain how certain things went, especially when he could not understand them himself.

“Malcym Ashe, formerly of the Murandy king's service, ser, and apologies for the rambling,” he murmured. Light, but he missed his old commander. The man might have been a pain in the arse, but Malcym could at least be on the level wit the man. He'd lost two previous captains, and the third was a man who knew his enlisted men – enough that he and Malcym were honest with one another without resorting to rank.

Here was a different story. Here you could find yourself in a potential severe quandary. He'd seen it with a rare few and Light, but it was pleasant.

But then it would be a matter of time before Malcym's own independent nature flared and he would face punishment of one nature or another.

So the trainee did the only thing he could do. He turned about and sat back down – and extended a hand to spot near him.

“An Asha'man I escorted back here said this was a spot of reflection, one of the few,” Malcym said. “I'd welcome the company, given we might both need some peaceful area to think.”

He reached opposite his sword, toward a bag and pulled out a drinking skin. The last remnants of Murandy civilization he had brought with him, and a tradition he had shared with his old commander.

“And perhaps share a drink or two of Shinearn ale with a new recruit, ser,” Malcym murmured as he proffered the skin to the Gaidin.
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."

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Bella
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Location: New England

Re: Sunset reflections (open)

Post by Bella » May 23rd, 2020, 11:09 pm

"I'll have a seat," Haeden agreed easily. The change in the younger man upon seeing him and realizing his rank was something that the Gaidin had gotten used to long ago, after all. It was expected from trainees, although he was a bit more...lax than his father. Then again, granite was more lax than Caden Ives had been.

The long-legged warder crossed the remaining space and took a seat. "However, I'll pass on the drink. Thank you. Shienaran ale is not to my tastes." And he did not want anything to interfere with his head being clear. As to the "more lax," he didn't call the young man out for the drink. It was only ale, after all. "This is a good place to find peace, assuredly. I've come here since I was a child."

One corner of his mouth rose in a crooked smile. "I am Haeden Ives. You are new to the warder yards, yes?"

Jack
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Re: Sunset reflections (open)

Post by Jack » May 24th, 2020, 3:12 am

Malcym inclined his head briefly at the Warder's polite decline of an offered drink. He took a quick pull of the black ale, the strong, bitter liquor sliding down his throat.

Most might have been burned by it, but the young soldier had seen more than his fair share of drinking games in the barracks while not patrolling around Lugard's sphere of influence. A second pull and he stoppered the flask.

“I'm afraid it's not most anyone's taste outside of Shinear, sir,” he said simply before returning it to the nearby bag. “The first time I drank it, I felt like an Aiel had pierced my skull with a hundred spears the next morning.”

The best thing about its strength was that it would keep well for months. Or serve as a makeshift source of fire accelerant.

The Gaidin's remark about this secluded glade reflected his upbringing. Malcym honed in on that as much as he had acknowledged the man's rank. It was the product of being trained to be observant enough to stay alive during patrol or during a routine interrogation.

The Warder had apparently grown up in the Tower, if not been born to it. The stories he had been told of this place varied differently from those of the White Tower and Tar Valon.

But the thought was bounced aside by the Warder's introduction and his question.

“Aye, I signed the rolls two weeks ago,” Malcym said, his eyes on the fading reflection of the clouds in the lake. “A Joram Satile Gaidin thought I should join the Yards after I chased a bunch of Aamadician mercenaries that had been on our heels since Camden Corelle, apparently after the Asha'man I was ordered to escort.”

He resisted the urge to grimace at the crossbow bolts he had ended up with as a result of that decision.

“Of course, my stepfather would rap my skull and say I was foolish for doing a stunt that nearly got me killed, and then pay good silver to see the bewildered look on the faces of the men I chased off when they realized one only man attacked and then led them on a wild fox chase,” Malcym said with a smirk.

He shifted slightly as other memories came back, ones of more recent impacts.

“Of course, your second-year recruits know how to hit harder than most drill instructors with a decade in the Murandian army,” he muttered. He looked at the Gaidin and asked, “Were you trained as well how to strike with the strength of five mules, Haeden Gaidin? Or is it something learned whilst growing up here.”
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."

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Bella
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Re: Sunset reflections (open)

Post by Bella » May 27th, 2020, 8:24 pm

That drew a chuckle from the older man. He wouldn't disparage of the armies of their world, but he was aware of the fact that the Grey Tower held a far higher standard than almost anywhere else. The elite were trained--and sometimes bred--here, but they all worked very, very hard to earn that distinction.

"Both," he replied with an easy, crooked smile. "I was born to an Aes Sedai and a Gaidin, so I was born and raised here. Eventually, I followed in my father's footsteps, since I never could channel a lick." After answering the question, he circled back to something else that the man had said. "You came here escorting an Asha'man?"

Jack
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PC: Malcym Ashe

Re: Sunset reflections (open)

Post by Jack » May 27th, 2020, 11:08 pm

If there was one thing about Malcym, it was that his instinct was more right than wrong, especially when one took the time to listen.

Beside, the man smelled like this place, as if he had been born to it, unlike the vast majority of people he had met here. The only other person who bore that mark was one who had proven elusive these past weeks.

But it was strange that combination, the offspring of an Aes Sedai and Warder. Again, Malcym reminded himself that things were different here than the stories told of the White Tower and its Aes Sedai.

After all, the fear of male channelers didn't have much weight here – something Malcym himself had long ago shed any doubts about. The rumor among soldiers was that the king of Murandy kept an advisor from the Grey Tower, an Asha'man, to balance out any undue influence or pressure that might come from an Andoran throne cozy to the White Tower.

“I'd say good choice by the way you approached from behind without a noise,” Malcym remarked after a moment. “Folks must be proud if you kept to the continued tradition of serving this fine place and hopefully teaching recruits how to wipe their own noses.”

He said that last part with no malice. Malcym had received no slack regardless of the respect his stepfather's name carried in the Murandy military. Every post, every inch, what few merits he received, Malcym had earned them all through sweat and blood.

“My mother's a teacher and my stepfather a Murandian officer turned moneylender,” the young soldier murmured. “There were only really three options there, and my half brother has the favored spot for taking over his father's business. Besides, the man put a sword in my hand from the first time I could walk when he was still an officer and raised me up on military stories and how one Murandy guardsman was better than fifty Queen's Guard fools.”

Light alone knew he had also had to join because it meant the alternative would be his little sister, Amberlee, wedding some flaming noble much older than she. A year separated the two, and four years apart with their younger half-brother.

He laughed at that bit. Pound for pound, the Queen's Guard of Andor could run circles around Murandy's own military. It had the wealth, prestige and stability to train a true corps of soldiers that directly answered the thrown.

Murandy's military was smaller, less disciplined and while it might answer to the crown, old traditions still held where men were more loyal to the lords of a particular estate or town than to the actual monarch. Malcym's stepfather had been loyal to the nation and raised him to be the same.

The Warder's question caught him slightly off guard, causing him to smirk.

“Aye, we arrived here from Caemlyn by way of Camden Corelle,” he muttered. “I was part of a small party escorting an Aes Sedai by way of gateway from Lugard to the Andor capital as part of a diplomatic behest to tell some Andoran lord to go eat Trolloc dung instead of accepting a paltry trade deal with Murandy.”

His smirk turned into a slightly proud smile. Andoran lords looked down on Murandy with as much or more disdain than Tear looked down on Mayene – or anyone else for that matter.

“A day later, I was given orders from my regiment's captain – a hard but fair man, mind you – instructing me to escort an Asha'man from that city to the Grey Tower along with a small retinue of men,” Malcym said. “The Aes Sedai said it was best to travel the road rather than by gateway without any further explanation. I didn't question the orders.”

“He rarely talked, kept to his own camp fire, ate his meals in private. The men with us were more chatty, but gave him a respectable wide berth because it was his wish. His face was always hidden beneath the cowl of his cloak, except for those gold-green eyes.”

Those eyes reminded him of embers dancing in a deep forest, so old and hard. In a few instances, he saw flickers of mischief that turned to bittersweet echoes.

Malcym rarely questioned orders; when he did it was because he had sensed his captain's own doubts or when it came from fool noble lieutenant who thought to make a name for himself. The former earned him either a knock on the skull or changes to the orders; the latter, men died or he had to argue strenuously with that flaming officer.

“We were attacked by eight men our first week out by two men, from Amadicia by their accent but wore brigand colors,” he murmured. “They killed one of the five soldiers sent along with me and I struck them down in return – sword got stuck in one of them, so I tripped the other and as luck had it he fell face first into the campfire. Held him there.”

He was silent for a moment, reflecting on that moment. Light but he had been fortunate.

“The second attack came about two weeks before we reached Camden Corelle, twenty men this time, more disciplined. We lost another man. The men who attacked us, the ones not felled by us … the Asha'man just stood there, in the center of the chaos and lightning fell down. Light, but I'd never seen anything like that before. In two minutes, twenty men were dead.”

Another moment of silence, this one marked by a cross between respect and … unfounded confusion. Malcym was a soldier – he believed in what he could see and touch and reach out and smack upside the head.

“When he was done, he checked on the dead soldier, said there was nothing could be done and walked away with as much passion as an Aes Sedai who had just won a card game with a full consortium,” he muttered. “When I demanded answers, he just looked at me … and that was it. No answer, no excuse.

“We reached Camden Corelle, and it was easy to see that the people there showed respect but gave him his distance. As if he had been known once, but really wanted to see him go. He stayed in the town's keep and was said to have meals with its lord.” Malcym's smirk nearly faded. “We soldiers were given rooms in the barracks of the guardsmen but told to stay close, no tavern for us.”

“After a few days, what remained of our small party left the town and began heading to Hama Valon. It was unremarkable then. The Asha'man became a tad more chatty with me after that, but it was probably just testing my knowledge of this area, or at least the battles fought. He seemed impressed. Told me a few personal details as well.”

He cocked his head even as the sun began its final descent. “But he had this demeanor that demanded to stay away from him at times, enough that even the wolves that occasionally shadowed us backed off. He had the distinct scent of someone who did not want to be bothered.”

Ah, the flaming wolves. He had encountered one just outside a camp on their way from Camden Corelle to the Tower … and it had left him alone. The dreams started around that time. And more and more occasions when wolves would shadow their party.

“Our flaming luck that we were ambushed within miles of Hama Valon,” he muttered. “It was a foggy day. I … something smelled funny, the Asha'man seemed to know, soon there were armed men near us … he channeled and I charged as a distraction, telling the other two men with us to escort him to the gates of the city.”

Malcym pulled the skin of whiskey from his bag and took another, long, pull. The memory wasn't exactly pleasant. “Next thing you know, I'm waking up in some flaming infirmary, the Asha'man over me saying how foolish and fortunate I was and promptly gives be the news that my old captain had been replaced by some spiteful noble I'd kneed years ago and that I'd been canned.”

He belted out a short laugh then and muttered, “And now I sit here, dressed and training with others, all because I have the chance to meet Asha'man Jerid flaming Walker. Creator's blessing, but I'd love to knock that man's skull at least once.”

Malcym blinked, realizing the words he had spoken regarding a raised channeler. “Begging the Gaidin's pardon, that is to say, if he weren't an Asha'man. Or coming to spend his remaining days here.”

The young soldier wasn't as subtle in changing the topic of a conversation as others, but his mind drifted toward the only subject he could think up.

“So your parents were an Aes Sedai and Warder,” he said. “What was that like? Who were they? Are they?”

OOC: Careful with this one. He's got foot-in-mouth syndrome at times. You know, along the lines of "respect authority" but "prone to bouts of rambling."
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."

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Bella
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Joined: April 14th, 2015, 11:28 pm
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QC: Andraste Alhandra Sedai
Location: New England

Re: Sunset reflections (open)

Post by Bella » May 28th, 2020, 12:26 am

It hadn't taken the young man (finally) giving him a name for Haeden to know precisely the Asha'man referred to. The clues were scattered like breadcrumbs through the long-winded conversation from the other sides. Camden Corelle. The color of his eyes. The attitude... Although the "remaining days" part was new, and he had to wonder if his mother was aware.

"What was that like?" Haeden repeated with an laugh. The sound existed in an odd world between easy and bitter. "It was interesting, to say the least. My mother lives. My father does not." It wouldn't take any time at all for this man to discover who his parents were if he did the most minor amount of asking. Those two had hardly kept themselves to themselves...

Sitting on the rock, Haeden leaned forward--forearms over knees. It was such a seemingly casual pose, but his decades of training kept his muscles loose and ready at all times. He wasn't even sure he could stop being that way if he tried... Ready to spring to his feet and race off at the slightest hint his Aes Sedai was in trouble.

"Let me say that you don't want to run afoul of my mother on a bad day. Or a good day. Don't run afoul of my mother. Ever." He smirked. "She is the Captain-General of the Green Ajah. Professional fire-starter, as it were."

Jack
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Joined: May 25th, 2015, 9:01 pm
PC: Malcym Ashe

Re: Sunset reflections (open)

Post by Jack » May 28th, 2020, 5:34 am

If nothing else, Malcym was a student of history. History of military and those tales his mother told him and his siblings whilst growing up.

He might have not clicked on the Gaidin's family name right away, but the brief words flowing through the man's lips were enough to jog his memory.

Most of his education about this place extended to the battles fought, the victories and the near failures. He knew the stories such as the sieges of the Seanchan, the Battle of the Lights and its conflict with Tar Valon.

Legends like the grand Lord Sigmund von Danzing and Caithlan Damodred, or Riahana Tomosan and Dax Torellion. Or the channelers such as Saphire en'Damier or Sadira Jolastraer and Aric Cosamaru.

And there were names that stood out. Amora en'Damier. Durrent Antian. Jerid Walker.

“Miahala Aes Sedai and Lord Caden Ives,” he murmured, the last two names coming unbidden as if in reflection of history.

The man beside him might as well have been Tower royalty. A parent of which was a living legend.

He looked sideways and murmured, “They say that about all mothers. A minor Murandian lord got the sharp end of her tongue when he offered a marriage proposal between his son and my sister whilst she was still ten and the lad sixteen.”

He chuckled.

“You've never seen a sight until you've seen a Lugardian nobleman with a blackened eye run from a merchant's house chased by a woman with an iron skillet in hand,” he said. The silver flecks in blue eyes danced quietly as he mused on the thought.

“Of course, my mother never chased away anyone with lightning or balls of fire, like yours would with lightning and fire, Gaidin,” he said simply. He looked at the Warder again. “I grew up on stories about this place, and others. My mother was a great story teller and teacher and she made sure I knew my history.”

The sun slipped past the horizon as the day turned into twilight. His silver-blue eyes flashed as he took another drink from the skin. His mind drifted back toward the original reason he sat here on this rock overlooking the still reflective lake.

“But being chased by determined woman holds no comparison to being stalked by wolves in the waking world or in dreams,” he murmured.

He sipped yet another drink before setting the skin aside. It would be foolish of him to finish the bloody thing in one night when he was the first one up for sparring tomorrow.

“That's what brought me here, to this spot tonight,” he murmured. “Wolves began stalking me … and I could sense them. One saved my life when I was bleeding out and at the end of a crossbow bolt after charging our attackers near Hama Valon.”
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."

User avatar
Bella
Female Channeller Representative
Posts: 5482
Joined: April 14th, 2015, 11:28 pm
PC: Miahala Darrow Sedai
SC: Lysira Viathene Gaidin
TC: Gareth Tomosan Asha'man
QC: Natlya Cade Gaidin
QC: Andraste Alhandra Sedai
Location: New England

Re: Sunset reflections (open)

Post by Bella » May 31st, 2020, 11:07 pm

Well, that's interesting...

Haeden wasn't really surprised by the idea that this young had heard of his mother and father. For better or worse, they seemingly had put their hands, their noses, their fire, and their sword into the business of nearly every nation the existed...as well as maybe some that no longer did or never had. Infamous would be the word, he'd say.

That thought was put aside, however, when he began talking about wolves. "Tell me more about the wolves," he said simply.

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