Along with it, an aura that Roland found exceptionally, even comfortingly, familiar lingered within the tent.
But the aura was too faint. Before he could investigate its source, a voice rang out.
"Roland..."
He looked up to see a burly, fully armored, middle-aged man sitting on the main seat.
It was Graham, whom he had not seen in a long time.
The heavy Armor made the brawny man's frame seem even larger, like an oversized tin can.
"I'll be damned, it really is you, kid!"
Graham let out two laughs in his trademark booming voice and beckoned to Roland.
"What are you doing all the way out here?"
"Didn't you tell me you were going to clear out some Pirates? So..."
A teasing smile appeared on Graham's face.
"Did those Pirates from Wailing Gorge beat you so bad you ran away with your tail between your legs?"
"Dean Graham..."
Hearing the Extraordinary Professional's teasing, Roland forced a wry smile and proceeded to recount his entire ordeal.
