@iiofcups plotted for a starter
The evening sun had, at best, a handful of hours before it would set, and Gaelavun would not waste them. He kept himself to a rather strict and rigorous training routine with his great sword that both kept him in shape, and kept his skills honed for battle.
He wasn’t the only one in the training grounds but he would be soon. Usually all of Cullen’s men would break off for bed or for the Herald’s Rest in the short hours before the cold of the night set in after the waning light had gone. The last of them were already winding themselves down; training with less fervor, and taking on more lighthearted faces. But not Gael. He maintained a centered composure. Though dressed down in a casual shirt and pants, he put himself on the battlefield, pretending that the wooden training dummy he was hitting was some manner of enemy; alive, moving, and dangerous. Breathing hard and with a sheen of cool sweat, almost nothing could break his focus.
