Adrien, however, didn't move. As much as he had spent days planning his actions for this important moment, there he was, unable to say anything, completely dumbstruck.

The thing is, he had imagined that the door would open, and out would come Valerion, an ancient tortoise of a wizard with spots on his pale face, a long beard, a wise smile, and hands like a geographical map - with some room in his mind for a few variations on the theme, but nothing radically different than that. Certainly, what he hadn't expected at all was that the door would open, and out would come Valerion: elegant, fit, dark-skinned, of unclear age but nowhere close to being old, with a shaven face, black hair and black eyes, and an air of intensity about him. The only thing that the real Valerion shared with the construct of Adrien's imagination was the smile, but even that was different - yes, it was the gentle, compassionate smile of his theoretical grandfather figure, but there was more to it than just that; it was also a cheerful, lively, even somewhat impudent smile - which didn't quite speak of conventional wisdom to him.