The tapping of Sorian's walking stick was enough to draw the attention of the curious birds as he passed by. Otherwise, he remained relatively unimportant as he wandered to meet the host of his mystery invitation. Ignoring the many sounds of Radasanth: children playing, horses whinnying, and the many, many footsteps of rushing people; Sorian focused on the songs of the many Starlings that lived amongst the streets. Wandering alone, Sorian had walked from the residential district through to the more upmarket food district. He had been quiet since he returned to Corone three weeks ago, he always enjoyed his quiet time after a long venture, but his old body was once again taking time to recover.

It had taken half an hour to reach his destination, but as he shielded his eyes to see past the midday sun's rays, he finally laid eyes on the building. The old restaurant sat peacefully under the more expensive and open part of the eating district. Many places rivalled one another here, but this place, shaded under two large Beech trees of great stature and age, stood the test of time. The old stone was well kept and while the sign could do with a bit of a touch up, it still remained predominantly and boldly over the doorway.

The Paladin’s Golden Saddle

Stepping into the shade as he passed under the old archway of the entrance, Sorian felt the relief of the dip in temperature, quickly followed by the light after-burn of the sun on his cheeks. It was not quiet inside, the bustling sound of munching, chewing, chatting and charm rang throughout the walls and made it clear why this place was so popular. Sorian however, was not here to enjoy the atmosphere, nor was there to meet a group of people, only one.

“May I take your name?”

There were not many places that Sorian visited where they asked your name to enter, but while unaccustomed he responded in kind. Led down past the main rooms of the restaurant Sorian was taken to a different smaller area of alcoves and private seating. Cushioned and cosy they were designed for small groups of maybe two to four people - adequate for his meeting.

Turning into one of the private alcoves Sorian’s eyes widened and the hostess gasped. “Alina!” She shouted - more high pitched than her earlier, softer voice.

Before them, Storm Veritas lay over a waitress on their table, locked in embrace with her legs wrapped around his hips, his eyes darted up to Sorians arrival. Surprised, he almost dropped her off the table, stood upright to adjust his white shirt, and then flung back his dark leather overcoat before leaning back into his seat with no shame.

The waitress, under duress from the hostess, scarpered, and many apologies were flung their way. Storm, however, merely smiled with that bright white grin Sorian had come to know. He casually lit his small smoking pipe and then gestured to Sorian to take a seat opposite him.

“She’ll be back. They need to bring us more drinks.”

“When I received this invitation, I never thought it might be you that sent it.” Sorian sat.

“It’s been some weeks. I heard stories recently that an old man was following around a giant skeleton. Seemed unlikely to be anyone else.” Storm picked up his empty beer stein and attempted a drink. He paused as he realised he spilled it during his embrace and returned it to the table. “I had no doubt I’d be returning, but I lost you back in Alerar. I thought you hadn’t made it.”

“Oh… Well apparently I wasn’t destined to die.”

Destined to die? If it were only that simple old man. Storm leaned forward with intrigue. “Ignorance is bliss for this world. I think only you, me and Elite know what really happened over there. Even then, we both have different sides to this story. It’s bothered me since I got back. What exactly happened to you?”

“I guess this is why you’ve invited me here, to discuss the events of Alerar.” Sorian looked out into the empty room beside them, void of staff, the white walls gave it a bright, clean interior.

“I figure, after our history, we’re becoming friends. At least on a basic, distant level. A bit like those cousins you see maybe once a year.” Storm took a light drag from his pipe and leaned back into his seat once more, the cushions spreading to this weight. It was time to listen.

“Okay. Well please get a waitress back to serve us. Preferably without necking her first.”