Athar put a hand on the astonished Irun's shoulder. "Don't worry, it takes time to get used to the fact that he can always hear your thoughts," he said, mildly shaking his head. "Yeah, I suppose this will take some getting used to," Irun said, rubbing his new arm. "I'm Athar, by the way," the man said, outstretching his hand.
"Irun. Sorry I haven't been very social since coming here," he replied, shaking the man's hand. "Oh, I'm sure it couldn't have been easy to leave the synners," Athar said, trying to sympathize.
Irun didn't reply, but instead nodded his agreement. This isn't the time to talk about that, he thought. "How the hell did you survive here? Wait, how long have you been here?" Irun asked.
He's got to be around my age by the looks of it, but how did he get here? he thought.
"I was about seven years old when my mother was murdered. At the time, Coltend Castle was a very different place. It had become lawless, unruly, and unfair to any and all who had lived there. It was no real surprise to me when I found my mother dead in the street with a fancy-looking knife in her chest," Athar explained.
"I… I'm sorry to hear that. I also know what it's like to lose someone close to you like that," Irun said, remembering his father. "Oh, I'm over it now," Athar shrugged. "Besides, it's not like anything I could've done back then would've changed the outcome," he continued. "Right," Irun said, his eyes veering away.
"It's not all been bad, though," Athar said. "Recently, I've learned to use mana and cast a few spells. I've only been at it for a few weeks, but I'm very proud of my progress," he said, slight hints of excitement seeping through his voice. "Has he given you the Gwynnleaf?" Irun asked, his eyes opening wide. "Oh, you mean the plant? No, no. I learned it from a book by someone named Farenger Efer. Not a clue who that is, but his writings did teach me a lot," Athar replied. "You learned mana manipulation from a book? The Masked One didn't teach you anything?" Irun asked.
"Not really. The only thing he taught me was that because I immediately used dark mana, and haven't managed to use Ethereal mana, I have to keep that connection up by drinking this foul-tasting deathmold concoction," Athar began to explain. "Karak, a daemon who is his second in command, drinks this stuff like an ant to honey. I don't know how he does it, but I guess it's because it reminds him of home," he continued.
"I see," Irun said pensively. "How did you learn mana manipulation?" Athar asked, genuine excitement on his face like that of a child. "I was a synner, remember?" Irun replied. "Ah, yeah. So you've had some of that Gwynnleaf stuff my master was talking about, then," Athar surmised. "I did, and I'm genuinely surprised to hear that you're able to manipulate mana without it," Irun said.
"I'm not a genius at it like you might be, by any means," Athar said, nudging his newfound friend. "Well, it's a little different when your livelihood depends on it," Irun said with a shrug. "You mean to tell me that all of you know sword castering? At least I think that's what it's called," Athar asked.
"Sword-casting, and yes, I do," Irun replied more coldly than he intended. "Gods above and below, can you teach me?" Athar asked, a hopeful grin on his face beginning to show. "I'll think about it," Irun thought. "Better than nothing!" Athar, now riddled with excitement at the prospect, pumped his fist.
How isolated has he been? He's acting like a child, Irun thought.
Seeing the look on Irun's face, Athar regained his composure. "I'm sorry. I just… I haven't really had the chance to talk to anyone my own age, let alone have someone teach me sword skills," he said, patting his clothes down.
"It's alright. I'm just curious about a few things," Irun began. "Curious about what? Oh, gods, I didn't know having a conversation could actually be this refreshing," Athar said, still trying to contain his excitement. "Well, for starters, you said your mother was murdered. How the hell did you end up here?" Irun asked.
Hmm, how do I explain this? Athar thought, rubbing his chin.
"Well, for starters, I'm a bastard, so it wasn't going to work out for me to stay in the city any longer. With my mother dead, there really wasn't anywhere for me to go. I narrowly escaped a few more people wearing armor that tried to capture me, but for what reason, I still don't know. The Masked One seems to know more than he lets off, but I have a hard time conversing with him sometimes," Athar began. "You said that people in armor tried to capture you?" Irun said, trying to get the excited man back on track.
"Oh, yes. Like I said, I'm a bastard. King Truls' bastard nonetheless," he said, playing it off like it was a common thing to say. "You're fucking who's bastard?" Irun asked, trying to see if he heard that correctly. "King Truls Wishert? Or should I say former king, now that he's chewing dirt, I suppose," Athar said pensively.
Holy shit. This is Truls' bastard? I remember Mourtis talking about something like this when I first started communicating with him and the Masked One, but I had no idea he'd fucking be here, Irun thought.
"So, basically, King Truls sent people to capture you after he found out your mother had been murdered?" Irun asked. "Well, it's probably not exactly how that happened, but yes. For all I know, he was the fucker who stabbed her in the first place. Guess I'll never get that answer now," Athar explained. "Gods above and below," Irun exhaled.
"What ended up bringing you this far North?" Irun asked, trying to move the conversation forward.