Lost Lore and Otherwise Unconnected Stories
Page 1: Legacy
Khadgar stood up he saw the master mage approaching him along with a gangly lad attempting to keep up beside him. With a curt bow, the young-old mage nodded, "Lord Krasus, I wasn't expecting to see you."
He smiled and laid his hand on the young man beside him. "I had wanted to see you off before you went back to Lord Lothar." Krasus raised his eyebrows, seeming to remember his companion and pushed the boy forward. "Master Khadgar, I'd like to introduce my apprentice Rhonin of Andorhal."
The young-old wizard's eyes twinkled at the student, recognizing the red-haired youth from before he left for Medivh's tower. He couldn't have been more than seven when Khadgar had first left but now the student was probably twelve or thirteen.
Rhonin frowned at Krasus but nodded politely at Khadgar before looking back down at the ground.
Krasus gave Rhonin a proud, slight smile, "Magus Medivh… despite his shortcomings he trained a capable apprentice." The Archmage faltered but quickly recovered, "I for one believe the Council should follow in that example."
Khadgar grinned and mussed with Rhonin's bright red hair. "Good to see."
The boy blinked at him owlishly but didn't speak.
"He's a bit shy I'm afraid," Krasus apologized. The Archmage laid both his hands on Rhonin's shoulders and squeezed them lightly. "Nevertheless," Krasus continued somberly, "May the Light protect you on your way."
The sun was bright above them, but no warmth fell from the celestial body. The brisk cool air that was all too common in Northrend blew across the small courtyard prompting Khadgar to adjust his robes tight around his body. The children didn't seem to mind though, as they fell back onto the ground exhausted from playing.
The younger mage beside him stood up and walked over to the boys. "Much better boys, no doubt your mother will be pleased with your progress." The children beamed at their father, and nodded in turn. Rhonin smiled, placing a hand on each of their heads and tussling with their hair. "Now go on inside, that's enough swordplay for today."
Rhonin sighed longingly as the two ran off towards the entrance to their private quarters. After a brief moment, hardly a second really, he returned to the old mage.
A folded map of Northrend and letters to Stormwind littered the small table between the two, most in regard to placating the situation at the Wrath Gate. Rhonin had asked for the old wizard's thoughts on the matter, and so Khadgar, for a time, left his post in Shattrath City to spend time back in Dalaran.
"It's a shame," Khadgar mumbled, fussing with his cup of tea, "I spent almost three years spending time with the late King Llane and young Varian. He's about the same age as you, you know Rhonin? Maybe two or three years older…"
The redhead nodded, tight lipped. He had nothing to say in regards to Varian Wrynn. It sometimes amazed Rhonin what fate gave to him, finding himself compared to Kings and other heroes of the world. If he had been told as a boy leaving Andorhal for the privilege and honor of studying in Dalaran, that he, the youngest son of a farmer would wind up its leader? His six-year-old self would have laughed.
The thought was sobering. Fate was cruel.
Rhonin eyes flickered to the map on the table, the latest news of armies and resource points noted in careful script. He nervously bit the inside of his lip. "We grew up," the red-haired mage replied grimly.
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