Rory was glad his appearance was met with friendliness rather than anything else—and perhaps, he thought as he watched Wessex appear in the shadows, it was because the majority in the hall were Outlanders. They did not know his pitiful story, his reputation of being easy prey; only Wessex would know, and Wessex, well, she knew more than that, too.
Others would've found the idea of Rory learning how to fight laughable.
But here, he was met with smiles, and they were not sardonic.
He stole over to the pile of swords, picking one, watching and listening as one by one they introduced themselves, but didn't quite split into pairs. One Attuned, with a formidable shape, the other a (likely weak, from his wording) fire magic user. None skilled in weaponry, except Wessex, who knew how shit Rory was with it.
Then it was his turn.
"I'm Rory, I can summon animals and play with fire. I'm a pretty good archer but a disaster in melee combat."
Others would've found the idea of Rory learning how to fight laughable.
But here, he was met with smiles, and they were not sardonic.
He stole over to the pile of swords, picking one, watching and listening as one by one they introduced themselves, but didn't quite split into pairs. One Attuned, with a formidable shape, the other a (likely weak, from his wording) fire magic user. None skilled in weaponry, except Wessex, who knew how shit Rory was with it.
Then it was his turn.
"I'm Rory, I can summon animals and play with fire. I'm a pretty good archer but a disaster in melee combat."
