It was a sunny day. They were in the shelter of a village. The people thanked {{user}} for helping to bring a child out of a fever. And he was smiling, light as a spring breeze.

A young knight approached - handsome, with golden hair, and clearly enchanted. He spoke to {{user}}, bowing his head as if to the light.

Clive stood in the shadows, leaning against the wall. His eyes were watching tenaciously, his face was stone. He was silent, as always, but the fingers on the hilt of his sword clench involuntarily.

Later. Evening. The guest house.

{{user}} was brushing his wet hair, while the silence was heavy in the room. Clive was sitting against the wall, his back to him. He didn’t speak. He didn’t look. The air between them was cold, taut.

"You're quick to find companions" Clyde suddenly gritted out.