The walk back to the mercenaries' horses and supplies was short largely due to their chatter, they spent about a quarter of a day walking, with at least one of them running their mouths about their glorious past and their exploits in the business. Mike had never been with a louder group.
Algar was the team leader, and after that handshake, things had been going steady for Mike. They still did not understand a word he said and neither did he as well. However one thing Mike shared with them was the goodness and delectability of the wheat beer Algar had offered him. He deduced that it was his hunger, however when he had it, it was like an ambrosia was poured on his tongue. Irresistible.
On their way, Mike managed to show them more tricks with Radiance. The mercenaries have had experience killing raves—magical radiance-wielding sorcerers, and not so much spending time with them. The universal impression raves gave was that they were the masters of those that lacked the ability to will radiance, and much more often than not, they came off as arrogant and to an extent wicked.
The lord of the continent Nation they stood on was a terrible elven rave.
Finally they got to their destination, and fortunately their horses and watchers remained unslaughtered.
"Hang around, I will get you some clothes." Algar said in a strong Afharian elven accent. Mike only understood that he should stay put.
They had rendezvous by a path that looked close to being totally engulfed by grasses. Mike looked at the two watchers, they were not humans, neither were they elves.
They were both blue with feline whiskers, and had faces that looked like an equal mix of a large cat and human. They too wore what the others wore: a monochromatic black outfit with black robes.
Mike looked away once he realized that he had been staring for too long.
"Here." A black leather shirt and a red shawl was thrown at him. He smiled, last thing he wanted to look like was a reaper.
"It seems that you have a lot to tell. We will get to that once we get to the camp." Algar said to Mike, and he simply nodded as he wore the clothes that were given to him.
He retained the trousers, they were perfect save for negligible blood stains. Once he was done, he checked himself out, and was quite surprised. He was different from the mercenary team but the outfit made him fit in rather nicely. A new addition to the team.
Mike got into one of the two horse-drawn carts while the others took either horses or went into the carts. One joined Mike, and it was one of the hooded ones.
They remained still as they sat next to him, and then the journey began.
Over the course of the journey, his eyes darted between the grassy path and the hollow that was within the hood. It was strange, he ought to see something with them that close.
The journey remained awkward, and the team rode through the night.
"Stop." Mike heard and jolted from sleep, his short time at Loonè had sent him constantly alert, one look away and he could be gone, at least that was how things were in the Talcaf forest.
His mysterious cart partner was not present, and he could hear nothing but the wind. He quickly hopped out of the cart afraid that he had been left behind.
The team was just ahead, and they walked to an assembly of tents and men. Mike squinted his eyes against Loonè bright suns, it was noon. He had slept for almost an entire day. It was both sad and ridiculous that the best sleep he had since coming to the world was in a wooden cart drawn across a bumpy road, and shared with a creature that looked to be nothing but clothes.
The tents were plentiful, they stood across an open field of grass, horses grazing, men chattering or exchanging wooden strikes. Mike spotted Algar who in a dramatic turn of event was his benefactor, speaking to another and then pointing at him. The person nodded and went in, and as Mike walked to Algar, a man appeared beside him, clad in a dark wine robe. Mike stopped, even from a distance he could sense an air around this person.
Radiance. This person bore radiance comparable to a radiant beast, and it was not just that, their radiant aura was peculiar, seeming very controlled and constricted, like a controlled river, ebbing out of them calmly. It was nothing like his nor the dwarves and radiant beasts who let theirs burst in large pulsing waves.
Mike then got reminded of his current measly radiance and his chains that have seemingly abandoned him now. Walking to the rave, he felt rather naked and exposed.
The radiant sorcerer eyes scanned him as he approached, Mike could tell that he was not letting on the best impression.
Finally, he got in front of them both.
Algar held his shoulder and then turned to the tents, and with a cry, he announced, " Welcome to the Lancer hawks, Afhar's biggest rebel mercenary group."
Mike simply looked, his face betraying no emotion.
"Right, you do not understand me. Guas, do something about that, won't you."
The rave nodded, and stretched out his hand to Mike. Mike looked dubiously but stretched out his hand regardless.
The rave took it. At this point, Mike understood that the sorcerer was going to bridge the gap between them, the how was what Mike was unsure and curious about.
At the Talcaf forest, he had only witnessed the energy utilized for bright, flashy and destructive spells, nothing as sophisticated as a translation spell.
Radiance flowed from the sorcerer, and to Mike. He could feel the cold intrusion with this strange energy which was ironic since he fed on other creatures' energies.
"Speak." The old sorcerer said.
"Sure," Mike said and then paused. He understood the old man.
"How?" He blurted next, his eyes wide-open.
"Radiant sorcery, young one."