The next day, in Edarin's study, Zepar stood rigidly before his master, jaw set. If Edarin refused, he would leave anyway—even if it meant ending their relationship as master and disciple. Edarin sat slumped in his chair behind a desk, looking at Zepar with a conflicted gaze. He understood why Zepar wanted to go on this journey, but he had also gotten used to his disciple's company. His tower would be so much quieter without him. He continued to study Zepar for a long moment before letting out a deep sigh.
"Very well, Zepar," Edarin relented. "But, I have a condition." He reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a worn, leather-bound tome. "This grimoire belonged to my master, and his master before him," Edarin explained. "I want you to take this with you, and I want you to study during your journey." He handed Zepar the grimoire, which his disciple accepted reverently.
"Very well," Zepar agreed. "I won't disappoint you, Master."
Edarin nodded approvingly. "I know," he acknowledged. "I wish you well on your journey, Zepar. May the winds of fortune blow ever in your favor."
"And the same unto you, Master," Zepar bowed respectfully before leaving. He wasn't sure where he'd go, but the journey was what mattered. As he approached the city's exit, he smiled softly as he spotted Aya leaning against the city wall.
"Take care of yourself, alright?" she asked as she hugged him tightly.
"I always do," he murmured against the top of her head. "Just stay out of trouble till I get back."
"Meaning we'll get into trouble together when you get back?" she teased.
"That's the spirit," he said with a chuckle. "Well, I'm off now."
"I'll wait for you," she said quietly. "Just don't make me wait too long."
With little more to be said, the two parted. Zepar walked through the gates, stopping briefly to turn and give a wave to Aya before continuing on. This would be one hell of an adventure, he was certain of it. And whatever came his way, he'd be ready.
A few miles from Gilramore, Zepar spotted what looked like a group of knights being besieged by three-meter-tall bipedal pig men. Zepar immediately recognized these pig-like humanoids as orcs, a species infamous for their war-like culture and 'appetite' for other species. Seeing the knights being worn down, Zepar aimed his staff at the largest of the orcs.
"Globus Ignis!" he watched as a flaming projectile streaked through the air and landed on the chest of the orc. Everyone on the battlefield froze and their gazes landed on the orc, who now had a charred hole straight through its midsection. The orc let out a loud choking sound as blood trickled from its lips and snout before it fell back and landed with a resounding thud.
"I do so enjoy pork," Zepar sneered. "So please, stay right where you are, pigs." He began focusing his mana into a series of stones on the ground, intending to use them all as high-speed projectiles against the orcs. "Iactus Dispersus!"
With a loud cracking sound, the stones shot out in a scattered formation, travelling at lethal speeds. The knights instinctively ducked, making Zepar chuckle. They needn't have bothered, he had aimed the attack high above their heads, only targeting the much taller orcs.
The sound of ripping flesh filled the area as the stones mercilessly punched holes through the bodies of the orcs, leaving bloody bodies in their wake. A few of them fell to one knee, while most of them simply collapsed onto their backs and breathed their last.
"Well?" Zepar asked impatiently. "Don't just cower there, finish off the stragglers."
He nodded in approval as the knights came to their senses and began delivering the final blows on the wounded orcs.
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Back in Gilramore…
In the tavern, Aya sighed as she leaned back in her seat. It had been a few hours since Zepar had left, and she was already feeling anxious. She took a swig from her mug of ale, letting the drink calm her nerves.
"He's charming, and handsome, and absurdly kind for who his father is," she muttered before taking another swig. "Gah, what are you thinking, Aya? He's a lichspawn!" She bit her lip as she hung her head, ashamed of herself. "You know better," she muttered to herself. "He's not like his father at all."
Just as she was about to order another drink, a man sank into the seat opposite her and slid a fresh mug of ale to her. He sipped on his own drink and flashed her a friendly smile.
"What seems to be troubling you?" he asked. "I'm a pretty good listener."
The man, who was in fact the town crier, watched with satisfaction as Aya quickly downed the mug of ale, which he had personally laced with a truth tonic. He had heard the word 'lichspawn' earlier, and he could smell a story.