The guildstone clicked to life in Mosur's hand. He stared down at it in his left hand and glanced to his left, the book laid on his bedside table. The book he'd been looking for, the one Zaanthe had said would just be trouble. It was old, gold leaf flaked off the stiff leather cover.


Mosur called, his voice held more than a smile as he looked forward to this conversation. He'd found the book the previous evening and had swept Saaska up and taken her out for a celebratory dinner. Today he'd finally dig into what the book actually had to say within it.

Out in the crisp air of Azuremyst, Mosur's voice interrupted a statement from the vindicator to a younger man in armor causing him to come to a halt in his sentence. It happened on occasion, and Zaanthe made a habit to keep his guildstone upon his person and audible at all times in case of emergencies. Cupping the stone in his hand and raising it closer to his face, Zaanthe spoke. "Yes, Mosur?", his tone was short and sharp, partially due to their previous 'disagreement', but also largely due to his current sparring and training of some of the Hand. Keeping an ear out for the conversation, the vindicator beckoned the younger man before him to strike again, to carry on.

"I found it." Mosur spoke, taking a cue from Zaanthe own short tone. He paused a moment but decided not to leave it up to the Vindicator to ask anything further

"The whole book is written in Draenei," he followed up succinctly. His heart pounded and a smile crept to the corners of his mouth, who better to write on the glories of how to use the Light than his own people. In fact being written in Draenei caused him to put further trust in the words this tome would ultimately hold.

Zaanthe grunted in acknowledgement of the first three words, though he didn't raise the guildstone to speak into it. As Mosur's voice continued to rattle out of the device, though, he brought it to his mouth. What followed was  an almighty crack, a grunt, and a thud. Probably not what anyone would expect after such news. The guildstone buzzed and hissed, and Zaanthe's voice came through, barking at the member of the Hand he was training. It was just enough to make out he was dismissing the younger man, rather angrily so. The shocking nature of Mosur's statement had left Zaanthe bewildered enough that he hadn't seen the warrior-in-training's swing of his mace, even though the Vindicator had ordered it. It had struck him clear in the head, and sent him reeling to the floor. Spitting a mix of saliva and blue blood onto the floor below, Zaanthe spoke once more. "…In Draenei? Surely… This is a joke."

Mosur raised a brow as he listened to the clattering and yelling of his fellow draenei. At first he'd thought the Vindicator might have thrown the guild stone down or dropped it. After a moment it was clear he had interrupted something Zaanthe was doing, though this information didn't particularly bother the shaman. He waited patiently for Zaanthe's response. He could hear the Vindicator spit and the scraping of metal against stone. 

"I wouldn't interrupt you before breakfast over a joke about something like that."

Zaanthe pushed himself to his hooves again, and brushed his palm over his face, blinking and bringing himself back into the here and now. 

"You found the book, and it's written in Draenei?", he shook his head, as though he was certain he had misunderstood. It couldn't be written in their language, surely. The statement began to sink in, all of the things that the vindicator had said in anger began to weigh upon him… was it all for nothing? Did he make nothing but an immense fool of himself? "…Have you read it?", was about the only question Zaanthe could bring himself to ask in his shock.

"No, I found it yesterday, and flipped through it reading no more than a few sentences. Some of it was the same verses you'd find in the prayer books of the Anchorites, easily recognized. Perhaps you'll find much to your pleasure I have tempered myself on the time I searched for it every day," no more than an hour a day but perhaps if he had spent longer it wouldn't have taken this long to find it, "and rather than diving right in to reading it I took Saashenka out for a meal rather than letting her cook last night."

"… I'll be damned.", Zaanthe spoke over the guildstone, though unintentionally. He took a deep breath, and steadied himself. "Our own language…", he raised a hand and brushed it through his hair in a gesture of utter bewilderment. "A meal well deserved for the both of you, then.", he paused for a while, thinking on apologies and what might be appropriate to say, and wasn't sure if it was stubbornness or shame that caused him to keep it to himself. Perhaps the silence itself said enough.

"I just thought I'd let you know. I'll let you get back to your training now." Mosur bit his tongue, the familiar word 'Brother' still hung in the air unspoken. He set the guildstone down on the bedside table expecting to hear nothing more from the Vindicator.

Author Zaanthe
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