The Lion’s Pride Inn was sparsely populated. It was early in the day and there were few individuals inside. A table of would-be adventurers sat discussing the kobolds to the south, they’d grown in number since the gnoll problem had been all but wiped out. But aside from that, all was quiet.
Mosur sampled a chocolate-infused tea, wondering how different it would be from hot chocolate. He paused trying to decide. It had a thinner base, they had still dropped a few marshmallows in it. It was supposed to be healthier. It wasn’t bad, but it definitely wasn’t as good as the normal milk-based hot chocolate. He’d stick with that in the future if he wanted a sweet drink.
Mosur turned his head and noticed the dressed down mage. “Um, Mystery.” He commented and glanced to either side of him expecting to see his youngling. He did not. “No little Kill today?” He didn’t mind, in fact he welcomed the continued silence.
“No, no.” He repeated after a pause. “I was passing through after an errand and happened to notice you.”
Mosur nodded his head. “Yes, very same. Small stop after going through Stormwind market.” He nodded as he spoke.
“You know,” Janderius started soft and slow. The white hairs starting to gather at his temples reminded the shaman how many years it had been now. “I’ve been thinking a lot recently.”
Mosur simply nodded but remained quiet as the mage seemed to be gathering either his words or his nerve.
“About what happened in Northrend a few years ago.” It had been almost half a decade now. “I’m not sure I ever understood what really happened back then.”
Mosur continued to remain silent. He wondered to which event the mage was referring, a lot happened in Northrend over the past ten years.
At the shaman’s silence some of the mage’s normal fire seemed to fill him, or return, he wasn’t used to feeling ignored when he spoke. “I have some questions,” he’d come on strong and his voice had been a little louder than he’d intended. He cleared his throat and spoke again as if to soften his previous statement, “if you have some time to sit and talk?” He left it a question, not actually angry, though those emotions did sometimes stir when he thought of Northrend.
“Have seat.” Mosur said simply and motioned to the chair near his own. He once more resembled the quiet stoic man the mage had met years ago in Wintergard.