If Stratagor Ziras doesn't kill me, my training program will!
Every day I wake up and go through the motions, but they've figured out that I'm not a Knight. I can't ride, I can't fight, I can't do magic, and worst of all, I can't see whatever it is...
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That meeting made my brain hurt. Grooming Stryder is the meditation I need...or more like therapy; Stryder is a great listener. I ride five unicorns and when I'm finished, my brain won't think about anything other than how bone-tired and overheated I am. I never knew that being a passenger could be so exhausting.
After I wash my last unicorn, I drag my weary body to the training grounds. I'm dreading whatever Trelix has in store for me because I've already had a long day. The training ground is a large swath of dirt with random weeds growing wildly. It has a series of haphazardly-placed pillars scattered throughout and a row of square targets. There are big wooden bins and small sections of fencing that don't seem to have any rhyme or reason as to how they're placed.
On the far side is a row of tiny colorful houses. I walk to the one with the open door and find Trelix inside. "Come in," he insists. "You look tired already and we haven't even started. I'll tell you what, let's talk for a while and let you rest up. I'd say it'll get easier, but it won't. Hopefully, you'll adjust soon."
The little house is actually a tiny office full of various equipment. In the corner sits a giant suit of armor that I assume is his. There are a few shelves crammed with all kinds of weapons and below those are some overstuffed drawers. The only other furniture in the neat room is a large wooden table and two mismatched chairs.
He sets a basket on the table as I sit in the chair across from him.
"I made these this morning." He pulls out two hoagies and a small bottle of something brown. Then he adds a salad and what looks to be pink french fries, followed by two enormous slices of peach pie.
He places a beautiful china plate in front of me and hands me an embroidered linen napkin. The silverware is real silver and the goblet he's pouring the brown liquid into matches the pattern.
"It looks so delicious. Thank you. Would it be okay if I started with the pie?"
"Sure," he says, taking a bite of his sandwich.
I like the brown liquid. It tastes like chocolate soda with a hint of pepper. "What's this called?"
"Salf," he says with a mouth full of food.
I'm not sure if the elf rule of overstuffing your guest applies here, but I can't finish my meal. After I try everything, I give up. He points to the remains of my sandwich. "You going to eat that?" When I shake my head, Trelix reaches over and grabs my plate, finishing the sandwich, the french fries, and the salad.
When at last he's done, he wipes his mouth and says. "I'll let you digest while I explain some things to you." He stands up, clears the table, then roams around the room gathering various pieces of weaponry. He lays them all out on the table and looks at me.
"This is your wand," he says, holding it up. "This is your wand holster." He holds up the little pouch Kyrbast gave me yesterday. "Your wand should always be in your wand holster and your wand holster should always be on your person. I retrieved it for you today, but from now on you always carry your wand."
