"Lucius, what skill did you receive from the sage?" Bel-ibni asks, trying to change the conversation, his voice straining to mask his curiosity.
"Oh, minor wind conjuration. Well, not exactly conjuration," Lucius replies slowly, as if choosing his words with deliberate caution.
Bringing forth his hands, the air in the room seems to pause, momentarily held in anticipation. "I can only create a minor orb, though," Lucius continues.
The air begins to draw toward his palm, swirling as if obeying an unseen command. Sid scoffs, unimpressed, while Bel-ibni leans in, visibly intrigued by the demonstration.
"That's a well-rounded skill, it should work well with your attachment" Bel-ibni comments, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I suppose the sage's gift of skills really was helpful." He presses his hand to his face, feeling the icy pressure in the room diminish slightly.
