Jonnathan

Sweat dripped down from Arenborn’s brow as he leant against the tree trying to and catch his breath, and he heaved a heavy sigh as he wiped it away with a gloved hand. Some days it felt too hot to wear armour, but he had to train on those days the same as every other day.

The bright afternoon sun shone down onto Hookworth as Arenborn strolled leisurely through the village, breathing in the warm summer scents. He made his way along the well-maintained paths to the Sizzling Turtle Tavern and strolled through the grass to sit at the base of one of the tall trees in the yard and settled between two large roots.

Evening sunlight filtered through the windows of the tavern, small particles of dust floating in the beams of bright light. Arenborn Kolten was sat inside the Sizzling Turtle tavern of Hookworth beside the fireplace, taking advantage of the light from the windows to write in his book. It was one of his many drafts of a letter to his parents. Every time he had tried to write one they had ended up crumpled up and thrown away. They didn’t even know he was knighted, let alone married.

I been making myself feel all right about the fact that I can't go back and live in the Mark no more, by thinking of how I'm in a life I chose, and a life where everything goes right on account it's what I chose. It's like I'm the hero of a minstrel's tale; once I chose it, it's like it's fate, so everything got to keep going right with it. But this ain't no minstrel's tale, and I ain't no hero, and things go wrong, very wrong. Sometimes when something's too good to be true, it's too good to be true.