A Good Sign.

"Your Majesty!"

The one who had just spoken was a young esquire named Egon.

At this hour of the afternoon, the Lord Sovereign, Briceus, had decidedly mounted up the battlement top of the Castle to alleviate himself of certain topics which continued to throb at his heart. 

With the drizzly wind which stabbed on his exposed facial and his one hand which he'd caused to lean on the solid upright wall of the battlement (called a merlon), Briceus had fixated his eyes on the grey cloudy bubbles which stayed afloat up in the sky. 

The rains were threatening to drop soon. 

However, now that the young esquire had interrupted his hour of solitude with his uninvited visit to that place, Briceus allowed his head to tilt in the angle wherein he could settle his eyes on the lad properly. 

"Egon-"

Briceus mouthed after just sighing because of his interruption of his 'Alone time'. 

"Yes, Milord-"