It was a cold and bitter morning. The sea salt air of Castle Bere stuck to everything and formed frost. As the sun rose and promised a respite from the dreary dawn, the young Prince Ithael, heir to the throne, peered out from a balcony in this castle he called home. Standing beside him, in full armor, his best friend and captain of the guard, Wilim. Both men stood quite tall and we're both well equipped and able to handle themselves in a fight, for fencing was their favorite past time. They both loathed these quiet moments. Ithael would rather have something to do, some adventure to go on and Wilim would prefer not to wait and worry.