Avin sat at the edge of a mountain cliff looking out at the rising sun as it bathed the horizon in golden dawn. A beautiful sight for such a morbid day. He basked in the fresh warmth of the day for a while before standing up and patting the called soil off his clothes. Turning around he gazed down at the grave he had just made.
Beneath the grave lay his teacher, Vlad. He never called him that ofcourse, always Master. On the grave stone were initials carved by the old man himself, two days before he had died.
It read "If you want the gold debt I owe you, come take it from me."
The old bastard was a real piece of work even in death Avin had to admit as he chuckled. But that's exactly what his Master was, he was many things but at heart A Trickster. And one of the the most infuriating kind at that.
Avin's training wasn't over, he was supposed to have graduated from his masters "school of whimsy" at eighteen. Bu unfortunately he had left Avin when he was about to reach his seventeenth birthday. So Avin considered himself self graduated.
Vlad wasn't complaining either way.
He picked up his pack in which lay his things, and slung the thin sword on his hip and walked towards his brown Horse that stood in the distance nipping at fresh few covered grass. He slung his pack, and heaved himself on, patting Bark on its neck.
He looked the final moments of the fresh dawn and at the grave of his teacher for a moment, and then turned away and said softly to Bark "Let's go back home."