Son of a slave

"How would you compare it to Denitel’s work on rare plants within the empire?"

"It’s far more detailed. Each entry takes up an entire page."

One of Corrie’s eyebrows rose like a hoisted sail at sea. "I’ll be borrowing this one, then."

"What about the other two?"

He approached the desk and began to explain the subjects that the other works covered, both of which piqued his friend’s interest in equal measure to the first. They spent about an hour leafing through their contents and discussing key ideas, oftentimes pausing to let Corrie read up on certain snippets that were relevant to the conversation. In the end, the eldest member of the Dozen stuck with his initial choice of the book on dangerous plants, deciding to leave once he finalized his decision.

"Hold on," said Alistar as his friend made to leave the room. "There’s something else I want to give you."

"What more could I possibly ask for?" came a dry response. "I came here to ask for advice, and I’m leaving with a grimoire and a choice read."

Alistar retrieved a bundle of cloth from within his dresser’s uppermost drawer, which he then placed atop the desk and unfurled to reveal the dagger that Aglain had given him. Lacking a sheath, the dull, weathered weapon looked as ordinary as any other if not noticeably unkempt in comparison to the average blade.

"No offence, Alistar," said Corrie, openly unimpressed, "but even I can afford a better dagger than this." Shaking his head, he added, "Thank you, but I’ve taken enough of your things today."

Paying his friend no mind, he picked up the dagger and injected some of his inner energies into it. The moment that he did so, Corrie’s eyes went wide with shock, his body tensing up as he looked around the room with a dark, shrewd gaze.

"Alistar?"