Halcyon
It is mid morning on Saturday, and Aslatiel is late as usual.
The lush green of the royal property wave back and forth with the gentle wind, rolling like a great sea. Refreshing air sweeps across the fields, cooled by the high mountains and brought down by the streams that surround the capital.
The sun is not quite at its zenith. It is perhaps eleven at most, however Aslatiel promised ten thirty to be his arrival. Anyone that knew him well enough would add a half hour to whatever time he promised, knowing he had his own strange schedule to maintain.
A brown, spotted horse bearing a black armored rider comes up the trail way, energetic in its steps. Aslatiel sits at the saddle, wearing the full garb of a Mirran knight. Behind him trails a black horse, riderless but equipped for a short journey. It is to be Samuel’s.
“Sorry I’m late, Samuel. The crowds are vicious today.”
Aslatiel always gives some kind of half baked excuse as to why he is late. Usually it is some well crafted story, a tall tale to be funny and help dissipate the ire his friend contains. However, today he was telling the truth. It was a true struggle to get down the crowded streets as the public made their way towards the Theatre.
Of course Aslatiel could have saved time and taken the Royal Road, but that would defeat the purpose of a clandestine meeting. The back roads through the wood will have to be good enough, at least until they enter the city proper and can rejoin the crowds.
