Quoted By:
[MARS 21st, 1490, SUNDAY, MORNING//ELMYCION CASTLE OUTSKIRTS, STORK ENCAMPMENT//MAILE, AWAKENING]
The call of a rooster from the farmlands not-so-far away brings your eyes to an opening. You feel slightly sore. Your sleeping position was more sitting up than lying down, it has been forever since you slept under the stars in such a way. Your escort, a royal knight from one of Wymund’s two distinguished royal orders, may have been keeping guard outside the tent, but you still felt like sleeping with one eye open.
You slide the modest blanket off of your body and kneel, then stand and stretch. Even as you near your twentieth birthday, you find a childlike wonder for travel that you’re glad to be experiencing, even if there’s some anxiety to be had at the same time. In a haphazard pile in the corner of the tent, resting against the pole, a set of gambeson dirty from travel and some modest supplementary plates held together by leather. Next to your armor, a bag of miscellaneous supplies.
You find yourself soon rummaging through that bag, looking for a pair of items that you’d been keeping clean and safe within. As you thumb through the contents, your eyes catch an identical set of eyes: a mirror…
>—<CONTINUED>—<
