"Father's done with the investigation, caught the guys of course." Jared rolled his eyes in consternation; he and his father often were at odds. "He tried to show me the ropes, but I quickly gave him the slip and got around to the local mercenary taverns! It was great! You could feel the energy of adventure! The sweat and grime of glory clung about like. . . well. . . sweat!" Jared's eyes now took on a very familiar misty quality and only served to confirm Marcius's thoughts about the real reason he took the journey.
"Uh oh. . . " Marcius mumbled half jokingly, which earned him a mock stern glower from Jared. Ever since Marcius had known Jared, there had been one dream the blonde haired man had kept alive: Jared wished to be a famous adventurer. To be forever immortalized with tales of bravery, and battle bards and minstrels across the land. It was the fuel that spurred him to spend most of his free time training with the sword, honing his skills with every passing day.
The dream also kept them friends when he found out that Marcius was training to be a wizard. Jared had been pressuring a young Marcius as to where he disappeared to every month. Marcius, who had never had a friend before, quickly folded to the questioning. "Every adventuring party needs a wizard. . . " he had said, rubbing his chin after a few moments of tense silence when Marcius had finally told him. It was this acceptance that cemented their friendship. They trusted each other fully from thereafter. He even occasionally asked Marcius about his training or to perform can-trips.
"One of these days, my friend, after you're a full wizard, we have to go off and seek our fortune!" Jared exclaimed quietly, mostly from force of habit. By mutual unspoken agreement they had headed to their favorite restaurant to no doubt talk about the happenings of the past days. Marcius tethered Ruby to the post outside, patting him calmly for a few moments before following Jared up the steps and into the restaurant.
Pushing open the doors of Taylor's, they were immediately beset by the owner. The aptly named Taylor was a bald, middle-aged man of Northern Morlian descent. His rotund face a rosy cherub color that went well with the smile that graced his features. He was an old friend of Jareds. "Ah! Jared Garalan and Marcius Realure, my two favorite customers!" Taylor said gleefully, slapping his hands together in unfeigned happiness. Marcius couldn't help but smile back, the man's cheerfulness was embarrassing, but also contagious. "I presume you want a secluded corner as usual?" he asked, mostly as a formality since he had already set off to locate it.
For all his smiling, the man was a shrewd business man. Marcius realized long ago that by making them feel at home and by being personable, the owner ensured they'd come back. The familiar faces that he saw at the tables served as testament. Navigating the tables with unexpected dexterity for such a large man, Taylor led them to their usual seat, tucked comfortably underneath an overhang against the wall.
Nodding their thanks, they sat down, and Taylor let them know that he would be sending over a barmaid whenever they were ready. A smart man, Marcius reaffirmed. "So Marc, tell me what've you been up to?" Jared asked after the owner had left.
Marcius filled him in, glossing over a few details, such as his dream about the wyvrr, and pausing a few times as Jared asked a few questions or to clarify things. When he finished, Jared let out a low whistle and leaned back on his chair. "I heard about the woman from my father. The Academy had let him know she would be coming here for business reasons. Gave the old man a right hissy fit, but there was naught he could do. Even he isn't foolish enough to mess with the Academy. So, she's a looker, eh?" Jared asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"Aye she is, but I still don't trust her totally. You can have a crack at her if you see her, doesn't matter to me." Jared had a far more accurate reputation of womanizing than Marcius; no doubt this Mage interested him. Marcius didn't think he would be as lucky as he was with the local barmaids and such when it came to Alicia.
"Well thank you for the go ahead, but this just goes on to confirm that I need to up my training. Can't have you going about blowing up everything without a sword to protect your back, eh?" It was a subtle yarn, but there was a trace of seriousness in Jared's demeanor. "If only my father would get off my yoke about becoming the Sheriff. . . " Jared had let the comment hang in the air; it was well known that the Sheriff intended for his son to take over when the perils of duty or age made him unable to uphold the law anymore.
"Dryken damn him, you'll be celebrated and knighted within a few years, whether he likes it or not!" It was a rather shabby attempt to cheer him up, but Marcius felt it had to be done.
"Thanks for the kind words, but it seems as if the fates have conspired to keep me trapped within devices out of my control." The words were very uncharacteristic of him, but he seemed to be giving voice to something he had given much thought. "Ever feel trapped Marcius? That's how I feel now. I'm bound by duty to do my father's wishes, even though in my heart I care not for this town. I'd rather be out there, where they need me, protecting small villages from the likes of orcs, goblins, and the ilk! Not protecting a big town from itself, because people are too stupid to get along with each other."
Marcius knew exactly how he felt. The incident with the elf had given him second thoughts about magic, but he felt trapped into learning it. What else was there for him if he turned away? He had no trade skill. The best he could hope for was inheriting his father's business, an assuredly stagnant position.
The awkward silence extended for an uncomfortable amount of time before Marcius, clearing his throat, felt compelled to say something, anything. "Heh, at least you don't have to worry about your soul being stolen, or being strangled by a cloak."
"Truth, there is much more to magic than the stuff I read about in books, but I think you'll do okay, Marc. Just be careful about getting involved with wizard politics. One doesn't have to be a wizard to know that! Also remember, when you've become an official wizard, you and I are going to go out and seek our fortunes!"
It was a tried and true rhetoric. "In order to adventure one must have a cause. I'm already rich, what else is there?" Marcius was teasing. They had gone through the motions of this conversation many times before.
"Perhaps to free a love? Or perhaps to spread one's religion? Why even the noblest cause of all? For the excitement of doing things that you've only read about? There are many causes to champion one's resolve Marcius!"
"Ah, but I have neither love nor am I religious. I've no heart to risk my neck either."
"What about friendship? Who better to adventure with besides me?" Marcius started grinning. It was hard to argue with one so zealous. With a non-committal shrug, he signaled for a barmaid to serve them.
This particular one was the youngest daughter of Taylor, as petite as her father was large. Though unlike her father, she sported a full head of wild red hair, which was currently tied up in a tight bun as she worked. She greeted Marcius and Jared with a warm smile, though Marcius could have sworn her eyes lingered a half second longer on his friend. With a shrug, he ordered a helping of shepherd's pie, while Jared contented himself with steak. Taylor's daughter scurried off to relay the order, hips swaying with a demure sense of enticement.
"You know Jared, I think she fancies you," Marcius said with a grin.
"Let's be serious though, Marcius. Would you do it after your training?" Jared prodded, ignoring the jibe.
"If I succeed, I promise you I will." Marcius only half meant it. He was starting to grow annoyed at Jared's pestering.
The answer must have sufficed because Jared broke out in a wide grin, seemingly content. The young barmaid had somehow slipped a pitcher of chilled wine onto the hard wooden table without them noticing. Marcius raised an eyebrow, his point regarding the barmaid proven.
Jared poured both Marcius and himself a goblet of wine and raised it in toast. "To Marcius, future Arch Mage and myself, a mere swordsman!" he said quietly enough to not be overheard, tapping the cup against Marcius's, the contents gently swirling.
"To myself, bungling apprentice and Jared, future Sheriff of Rhensford!" Marcius responded coyly, throwing a smile to disarm the glare he received from Jared and to show he was just joking. He sipped lightly on the sweet drink, smacking his lips a bit at the slight tangy aftertaste.
"So, Marc, did you hear about the war rumors up north?"
Marcius shrugged, "Bits here and there. Nothing much. Why?"
"Well, remember that shipment of rare metal that got stolen in the Selenthia woods? Apparently the Morlians are blaming it on the Selenthian elves and calling it the last straw between them. Everyone in Harcourt is saying that the Morlians are preparing for full out war. There have already been skirmishes between the two."
"I doubt the elves would do that though," Marcius pointed out. "They kind of stick to themselves from what I heard. Doing whatever it is that they do in that forest of theirs."
Jared's eyes gleamed, "That's just it, Marc. Rumors are claiming that they're just using this as an excuse to invade. Though the Morlians claim it's just one more thing on a long list of wrongs the elves have done. I think they're both shady, if you ask me."