"I can't go back looking like this," he thought, looking at his own reflection at the base of the mountain on a stream.
He looked old. Fully bearded, wildly unkempt long hairs, that too white hair, and the dress...it was just made up of deer pelts, with spots on it.
After a year, the dress he had in the bag, which was stolen by the hermit, was pretty much unusable. Even with holes, he had worn it but how much can a dress resist against the harsh training and terrain? If someone from the noble circle saw him, they will write this in their history books and will mock the Zadkiels for generations.
The only thing that has any value, at least, is the cloak he made of a magical bear.
"I need a makeover. Don't you think, Aviora?" He splashed the water onto his face, cleaning it. The cold and cool water freshens him up.
