Fourteenth of Fall, 510 AV
Fenilen walked with a hurried pace through Wind Reach, his eyes scanning even more worriedly than they normally did, his steps quick. His sword was at his hip, his bow over his back. He had a singular purpose today, and that was to get out of Wind Reach to answer the call he felt Priskil had given him. He was a strange sight, in the streets with his weapons equipped, despite his standing as an artisan and not an Endal, but he supposed the people of Wind Reach were used to such things.
He eventually made his way to the Aeries, walking quietly and sneakily through the Eagles and their Riders and the general hubub. His eyes scanned for one person that he needed to find, and eventually, after some searching, he found him.
Amon. He approached him quickly, speaking hurriedly. "Amon, can I speak to you for a moment in private?" he asked curiously, his head tilted.