The Verma
"Vandread…he won't die that easily. Trust me–he's still there," he said.
The utter belief in these words lacked any trace of a lie or exaggeration, causing the fluffy, red tail sprouting behind the tan-skinned man's back to wag.
"Interesting. You're a magic man, aren't you?" Alekkai asked.
"A mage, yes."
"Are you a capable warrior?" Alekkai asked further.
"...I'd like to think so," he nodded.
Alekkai stared at him for a moment before glancing back, yelling something to the outside, "Vigalla for zhawma!"
This command prompted a minute later, a younger, silver-haired tribesman to walk in, carrying the boy's scabbard and staff, carefully setting it down beside the boy.
"--!" He was surprised to have his gear back, but didn't waste any time returning it to his belt and back.
Alekkai watched him, "We will launch an attack on the Outrider village when the sun falls tomorrow. My scouts are out right now, tracking them as we speak."
"You don't have–"