When Mallory spotted Roast drawing out what looked like a twig from his pocket and aim it at the other man, she interrupted, worried a fight was about to break out in front of her. “What is your name? I’m Mallory.” She held out her hand.
Roast stared at her hand a moment before putting the twig in his left hand and shaking hers. “Art. Short for Arthur, but my father is called Arthur too so it gets confusing if we’re both called that.”
“You should be thanking me. Roast is an improvement on Art.”
Mallory faced the other young man. “And your name?”
“Erym.” He shook her hand.
“And you’re complaining about Art’s name,” Brodie muttered.
Mallory barely managed not to laugh.
“At least I know better than to be a mage. He should become a warrior like me and level up his unarmed,” Erym said.
