The towel felt rough against his skin as he tried to dry himself off quickly to get warm. The coarse wool of his socks and pants itched against his skin, but at least the soft flannel of his shirt was warm and comforting. He pulled the drain on the tub and put his shoes back on while the water emptied. Afterwards, he refilled the same amount of water into the tub as he had found, with pails of water from the pump. Then rolled up his sleeves and washed out his clothes in one of the large basins off to one side of the room. After he was done getting them as clean as the soap could manage, he wrung them out and took them back to Agmar's room. As he walked down the hall, he hoped Agmar wouldn't mind if he hung his wet clothes over something to dry.
It didn't occur to him to knock on the door of the room before entering, as he didn't expect anyone to be in there. He was startled to find Agmar in the room, rummaging through the large duffel bag the wizard had brought with him. Agmar had a clean pair of pants on but was otherwise undressed, his feet bare against the wooden floorboards. Stott found himself drawn to the large scar that ran across the man's back, stretching from his right shoulderblade down to his left hip. It looked as if it had healed long ago, but had been a deep cut that had spread apart some before being stitched back together again. There were smaller scars running across it, likely from the stitches themselves.
Agmar didn't turn around, although Stott did see him straighten up some at his entry into the room.
"Stott," Agmar said.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude - " Stott began, feeling foolish as he stood there. His bundle of wet clothes were dripping on his shoes and the floor.
"Not at all, it is your room as well right now. I have put a line up by the fireplace so that our clothes will dry quicker once the fire has been lit. You could hang yours on the right and I shall put mine on the left once I have washed them?" Agmar gestured and Stott saw a thin line of rope hanging across the room, secured to a candle sconce on one wall and a nail where a picture had been hanging on another.
"Yes, sir." He headed over and started carefully arranging his clothes over the line. How does a man who can heal himself end up with a scar like that? Stott had a feeling that the more he learned about Agmar, the more questions he might end up with. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Agmar buttoning up a fresh shirt and putting fresh socks on. He saw the man sigh as he sat down to put his shoes back on.
"You do not have to call me 'sir', Stott," he said quietly. "You are not my student, although I may teach you things along the way if you are so inclined, and Yilmack will likely have much to teach you. I may be your elder, but let us start out on equal footing as friends instead if we are to journey together. You may not realize it, but it is just as likely I will learn things from you along the way as well. I have acquired a few titles in my travels, as well as the enemies to match them. But I will never wield a title over someone I would call my friend. There are some who would defer to me regardless, but in the end someone can only hold authority over you if you allow them to."
"I..." Stott tried to wrap his tired mind around what Agmar had just said. "Okay," he finally answered. On impulse, he stuck out his hand.
"Friends, then," he told Agmar. He saw Agmar smile as the wizard took Stott's hand and squeezed it firmly. For just a moment he saw Agmar in a different light. He's just as human as the rest of us, but with more responsibility on his shoulders, he thought to himself as he turned back to hanging his clothes. Agmar gathered up the pile of dirty clothes he had on the floor and headed off down the hallway with them. And he's alone. He thought about that as he finished and tidied up the rest of his belongings. Even amongst friends, he's still alone.
