“This is everything?”
“All information that could be gathered.”
“He’s been busy.” Lear took another bite of the steak before him. Flipping the folder open with a pinky his eyes read through what appeared to be a list of items.
“Very.”
“He managed to recover all of these items?”
“Every one of them.”
“Remarkable.” Lear said as he chewed down another bite.
“Sire?”
Lear leaned back into his chair. Taking the folder into both hands he flipped through several more of the pages. There was nothing here that Lear didn’t know about his father. The man known to many as Gravis had a knack for acting like a shadow. He was seen without being seen. So unimposing, so unremarkable, that he was able to slip through crowds without raising a brow. It was a trait that Lear and his brother failed to master.
“There is no one more loyal in this galaxy than he.” Lear said. There were a great many things Lear wanted to express about his father. He held back his deepest thoughts however. They were reserved for family. This associate of his was not a Shamalain. Raising his eyes towards the man sitting across from him, “What do you think of Chandrila?”
“It’s not my cup of tea.” The Associate replied.
Lear smiled, “Nor mine. Yet if I am to learn what my Grandmother and Father have been up too in all of my years asleep then I need to walk in their footsteps. See what they’ve seen. Eat what they’ve eaten. After all this is a whole new galaxy.”
Setting the folder back down on the table, Lear went back to his meal. Everything was coming along quite splendidly. Long gone was the pain of a distant past. Before him lay an unwritten future, but one that still had what a Shamalain cherished most; family.
“Sire, why Chandrila though? Couldn’t we have gotten a list of items he recovered back on Honoghr?”
Lear’s eyes rose to his associate. A man of middle age with shiny silver hair. His suit was crisp though the fabrics were not the highest of quality. Brown eyes watched the much younger Lear as he finished his meal.
“Why Chandrila?” Lear asked as he wiped his lips and set the cloth napkin on the now empty plate. “This is the home of my father’s biological family. I wanted to see these sewer rats for myself. I must say I was entirely unimpressed.”
“Shall I get the transport ready then?”
“I’m going to stay for dessert.” Lear motioned for the waiter. “Go back and get things ready for our departure. Unless something eventful happens I shouldn’t be long.”
“As you wish.” Without a word more, the Associate rose and made his leave from the restaurant.
“All information that could be gathered.”
“He’s been busy.” Lear took another bite of the steak before him. Flipping the folder open with a pinky his eyes read through what appeared to be a list of items.
“Very.”
“He managed to recover all of these items?”
“Every one of them.”
“Remarkable.” Lear said as he chewed down another bite.
“Sire?”
Lear leaned back into his chair. Taking the folder into both hands he flipped through several more of the pages. There was nothing here that Lear didn’t know about his father. The man known to many as Gravis had a knack for acting like a shadow. He was seen without being seen. So unimposing, so unremarkable, that he was able to slip through crowds without raising a brow. It was a trait that Lear and his brother failed to master.
“There is no one more loyal in this galaxy than he.” Lear said. There were a great many things Lear wanted to express about his father. He held back his deepest thoughts however. They were reserved for family. This associate of his was not a Shamalain. Raising his eyes towards the man sitting across from him, “What do you think of Chandrila?”
“It’s not my cup of tea.” The Associate replied.
Lear smiled, “Nor mine. Yet if I am to learn what my Grandmother and Father have been up too in all of my years asleep then I need to walk in their footsteps. See what they’ve seen. Eat what they’ve eaten. After all this is a whole new galaxy.”
Setting the folder back down on the table, Lear went back to his meal. Everything was coming along quite splendidly. Long gone was the pain of a distant past. Before him lay an unwritten future, but one that still had what a Shamalain cherished most; family.
“Sire, why Chandrila though? Couldn’t we have gotten a list of items he recovered back on Honoghr?”
Lear’s eyes rose to his associate. A man of middle age with shiny silver hair. His suit was crisp though the fabrics were not the highest of quality. Brown eyes watched the much younger Lear as he finished his meal.
“Why Chandrila?” Lear asked as he wiped his lips and set the cloth napkin on the now empty plate. “This is the home of my father’s biological family. I wanted to see these sewer rats for myself. I must say I was entirely unimpressed.”
“Shall I get the transport ready then?”
“I’m going to stay for dessert.” Lear motioned for the waiter. “Go back and get things ready for our departure. Unless something eventful happens I shouldn’t be long.”
“As you wish.” Without a word more, the Associate rose and made his leave from the restaurant.
