Ulysses’s POV
The burning flames brought warmth and light to the dark basement. The man with messy hair chopped wood, piling it into neat stacks.
“Long time no see, Carlos.”
I greeted the shadowy figure softly.
Maybe because of his withered right foot, his movements were slow, but it didn’t hide the sharpness in his eyes.
His gray-blue eyes, so similar to Cecilia’s, met mine over the burning fire. He seemed unsurprised by my arrival. His gray-white beard moved slightly, his voice clear in the basement.
“Ulysses,” Carlos tossed aside the axe. He slowly sat on a chair. “You left in a hurry last time.”
“Oh, yes, I apologize for my rudeness.” I removed my wizard hat and bowed.
“Apologize? How funny. I never thought wizards were particularly polite,” Carlos said with a hint of sarcasm.
Indeed, wizards are like beasts with their territories. We’re used to living without disturbing each other, and visiting another wizard’s space without a good reason is akin to a direct challenge.