"Master, please don't be angry."
Lillian walked over and gently shook his arm.
"My brother didn't mean any harm."
"Hmph!"
Master Wendel turned his head away.
Mage Delin looked at his old friend's state, shook his head, and a helpless smile touched his lips.
He walked over to Wendel, sat down, and poured himself a glass of wine.
"Wendel."
He began to speak slowly.
"Do you really think refusing him was a wise choice?"
"What else?"
Master Wendel retorted irritably.
"Was I supposed to actually agree to stay in this godforsaken place and be his 'Magic Consultant'? If word got out, would we two old geezers have any reputation left?"
"Reputation?"
A meaningful smile played on Mage Delin's lips.
"At our age, are we still chasing something as empty and illusory as reputation?"
He raised his glass, swirling it gently. The amber liquid sloshed within.
"What we pursue is the truth of the world, the origin of Magic, and that illusory door to a higher plane."
