Standing with the two brothers she had interacted with more today than their entire lives put together, a certain swordswoman found herself somewhere between treating them like they were close - and like they were just random Guild trainees. Meanwhile, an illusionist drank it all in with great 'joy'.
Seeing her Qat frow and try something right in front of her was always enjoyable.
"Corde hez Iralev and Talva er Ryleon. Both accomplished cultivators in their own right. Would you say they seemed weak?"
The boys exchanged uncertain glances, clearly struggling with the contradiction between what they'd been *taught* to think and what they'd witnessed. The oldest of the two started to speak carefully.
"Father..."
He trailed off when remembering who he was speaking to. Just that morning, Qatrand had made a point of having them set aside Anper's words. Children are sometimes wise about what matters in the short term, but fail at considering the long effects.
