Theora straightened in her seat, gearing herself up for that part of her mentor's story. Around the table, everyone seemed enraptured by Quil's tale. Merigold had a hand on her husband's shoulder while the other kept nervously playing with her apron, and Borthur was frowning deeply, his arms crossed. Danell had been fidgeting with his cup without drinking all along, Darim was still, his elbows stuck on the table, and Hamel didn't seem to notice his eyeglasses had slid down his nose.
"The attack came at one of the worst areas, halfway from our destination, like they'd been waiting for us," Quil's eyebrows furrowed angrily at the memory. "It was mercenaries. A dozen of them. We… we shouldn’t have made it out that night. But the terrain was a disaster because of the storm, mud, flooding, an
