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| “If only I could make heat with the light.” He thought to himself. The last time that he had known true friendship felt like an age but really it was four months ago... He had met Phoenix in another tavern in the town of Pladue. One of the other patrons had made a bet of who could drink more ale before they fell down. Rithevan volunteered right away but after his very first tankard a rowdy half-ling decided to play the fool and stuck his leg over Rithevan's ankle as he was lumbering forward to fetch another tankard from the inn-keep. Being flat on the ground he would've shot back up on his feet straight-away, for the onlookers were in an uproar of laughter, but he's also a light drunk and one tankard was already affecting him so, and he had to roll over onto his back, lean on a table and lift himself up off the floor. He was about to holler something obscene at the half-ling but before he opened his mouth a tall six-foot-four, red-haired man, of about seventeen years stood right in front of him. He advised against Rithevan saying anything for “You may say something you would regret.” Rithevan looked at him as one would look at a very strange or mad person and thought “You do not know what you are talking about.” But he thought twice and so, better. He smiled. “You could be right.” He said. The tall young man eyed the bar and spoke “You might do a number of things you would regret tonight if you do not be careful with that stuff.” Rithevan repeated the same gesture as before again, and then smiled, again so he extended his arm in a hand-shake. “My name is Rithevan.” “Phoenix is what you can call me by.” Phoenix's grip felt like it could crush Rithevan's and he didn't grab the hand but Phoenix held his forearm so Rithevan held his. “A pleasure...” Rithevan smiled a half-cocked smile with eyebrows raised. |
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| 5 |
| Order Of The White Flame |