It is a short sequence in which the friends are training, though have not yet left home.
Glaril fell back with a gasp, his hand instinctively going to his wounded side. ‘You have got to be joking!’ he exclaimed.
Vaurotha stood before him, still in a striking pose, a broad grin on his face. The stick he had been using as a sword hung in the air, pointing at Glaril. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow and he relaxed. ‘Trust me, I’m as surprised as you.’ He stepped forward and held out his hand.
Glaril took it and sighed. ‘Three times, V.’ Once on his feet he brushed himself down and chuckled. ‘I tell you, Ituro is on your side this evening.’
Vaurotha chuckled. If the God of Luck was on his side, he hoped he would remain at his side for a long time, especially in battle. That would be fitting, he considered, for Ituro was also the God of War. ‘Maybe he is…want to put that theory to the test?’
Glaril shook his head and gently kicked the stick he had been using. ‘I don’t think I’ll manage to best you, V. Besides…I’m tired.’ He smiled and wiped some sweat from his brow.
‘Really?’ Vaurotha chuckled and dropped his stick. ‘Alright, then. I suppose it’s about time to head home.’ He looked across the field they had been training in, seeing his house a short distance away. It would be good to spend the evening with his family, especially considering that, in little over a week, he would be off to join the Legion. Grinning, he gripped Glaril’s arm in a warrior’s handshake and bid him a goodnight.