The morning sun slowly makes its way to the noon, shortening the shadow of the castle walls. The outer courtyard is in commotion: men-at-arms are preparing for departure. Supplies are being packed, arrows stacked, swords sharpened one last time.
War is ahead.
The inner courtyard is quieter but even here sounds the clinging of metal: two young men are parrying with practice swords, neither able to secure victory while the sun devours the last remnants of shade.
From the gallery, two men watch, until a servant approaches. "My Lord… Arl Howe has arrived."
"Oh. It was high time he did." The speaker turns to the other man. "Will you accompany me to welcome an old friend?"
As they leave, the young men continue their struggle until one of them stumbles and the other takes an advantage of the moment and disarms him. His excited roar startles a chestnut mabari from its comfortable slumber in the sun and provokes a response from a window on the first floor.
"Ned! Get yourself in a civilized shape and come over, we have guests!"
"Yes, mother!" the young man makes an exaggerated bow and whistles at his dog, then turns a warning glance at his companion. "Don't you dare to say a word, Gilmore!"
"Of course not, my Lord. I'd never dare to comment on anything your Lady mother says."
Then they both burst out laughing.
It's going to be a beautiful day.