As soon as he was freed from the mud, the long-backed chair pushed against the back of Yann's knees. He tumbled on its smooth surface, seated before he could will it. His will, however, didn't matter before the smiling sky-blue-haired youth. He was at the youth's mercy, his body a puppet that could be broken with a thought. But his mind would never bend, no matter who Adam was or what he wanted.
He leaned against the chair, his head higher than what dignity allowed, making him look contemptuous instead. His curled moustache and the scales covering his face reflected the crackling campfire.
"Grow a few hairs on that baby face of yours if you want to swindle knowledge from me, lad. The spells you want to learn are legacy, no mage would ever share. The archipelago's secrets are not for you to pry into."
