Best of Luck

15 August, 1359. Magdaline Castle, Islia.

William and Francis returned their practice swords to their racks after a long training session, both men aching and drenched in sweat. The early afternoon sun beat down on them without mercy.

William was glad to have a way to burn off all his over abundant energy. The last few weeks had felt like months, for a multitude of reasons. His friends all teased him of course, saying his restlessness was simply because he was eager to bed a pretty girl. He put up with their bawdy jokes and blows at training, with good humour.

"Tom looked like he was trying to take your head off a couple of times." Francis commented, swiping at his brow. "Didn't he refer to his strikes as wedding gifts?"