The next morning, Lindarion stood outside Thalorin's office again.
This was starting to become a habit. An annoying one.
He exhaled and knocked.
"Enter."
Pushing the door open, he stepped inside. The room was the same as before—mana humming faintly in the air, the weight of it pressing down like an unseen force.
Thalorin sat behind his desk, looking up as Lindarion approached.
"You're back earlier than expected." The old elf studied him. "Something on your mind?"
'Such pressure still..'
Lindarion didn't bother with pleasantries. "Can I bring people with me?"
Thalorin stroked his beard. "Your friends, I assume?"
"That's a strong word. They want to come," Lindarion said. "And I doubt I'd be able to stop them even if I said no."
Thalorin hummed, seemingly unsurprised. "I never said you had to go alone."
Lindarion's eye twitched. "You also never said I could."
Thalorin smirked. "You didn't ask."
Lindarion muttered something under his breath that definitely wasn't polite.
