Departure

Zaver, the wizard's robes were crumpled where Drystan's gloved hand gripped the collar, his knuckles white with restrained fury. Zevar, a wiry man in comparison to him, clawed at Drystan's wrist but did not dare to strike back.

"You gave him everything!" Drystan growled, his sharp features twisted in anger. "You handed it all to him on a silver platter!"

The wizard's voice was strained as he shouted back. "What choice did I have? He was ready to slice my fingers off and the next thing would've been my throat!"

Drystan released him with a disgusted snarl, shoving him against the shelves behind him. A cascade of dusty scrolls and old books fell to the ground as Zevar slumped, clutching his throat and coughing.

"You could have twisted it!" Drystan roared, kicking over a nearby stool. "You could have bought me time! Do you have any idea how long I've been working to get my hands on that?"