Blackwood studied himself in the mirror as his squire tightened the armor around him. His beard had grown and he realized it needed trimming. But not when this war was still ongoing. He was determined to make the first move when Arcadia least expected.
Hazog came in at the same time, a glass of wine in his hand. He was dressed in white robes contrary to his usual dark and tattered ones. His steps were graceful yet as silent as a cat's advancing on a prey.
"You look like someone ready for war," he complimented taking a sip before he leaned lazily on the wall. He could see Blackwood's side profile from where he stood.
"Do I?" Blackwood asked giving him a stern look.
"You're far from it!" Hazog replied nonchalantly which had Blackwood dismiss the squire with a wave of his hand.
"Tell me," he said and walked over to the table, pouring himself a glass too. "What do you know about war?" He half filled the cup.
