When Ravalor finally told him that he was ready to talk to Aeven, Ravalor had looked woefully unhappy about it and it probably implied that “ready” was a very subjective term in this instance.

Nevertheless they met up at Pelagius’ own quarters half an hour later. It was late afternoon, which Pelagius had determined to be the potentially best time to talk to Aeven based on previous experiences. The morning hours were always bad and the more tired he got the less rational he became.

Ravalor waited near the door, hands folded behind his back, waiting for Pelagius to get ready.

“Do you have anything sharp on you? Anything that could be used as a weapon?” Pelagius asked and Ravalor raised his brows and felt over the pockets of his vest.…
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