Jurel spent much of his time in quiet conversation with Metana. He made time for Gaven who wanted to take him out to the impromptu training grounds for a sparring session or sit and play a few hands of Bones over a cold tankard of ale (a small perk to having so many Salosians trained in arcanum close at hand: the ale was always cold). He made time for Kurin too. The old man wanted to talk, always wanted to just talk. Yet while Kurin asked seemingly innocuous questions—“How are you faring, Jurel?” or “Have you been keeping up your studies? Tell me about it.”—he had a glint in his eye as though he was probing for...for something. And of course he made time for Mikal. The needs of the army were never far away; it was a blight on the almost honeymoon quality of the time he spent exploring his new found closeness with Metana. He could never forget that they were marching to war. But now, so close to their enemy, he began by necessity to spend less time with Metana.
