It must have been midday. Leyton was walking through the streets of Cladstein, with a skin of ale in his hand. Pondering all the words he has heard about his birth and what he may be, his left hand tapped lightly on the pommel of his sword as he paced through the streets. He had to twist slightly out of the way of some drunkards and street merchants to keep himself moving, but that is hardly a bother for him at this point...

Tipping his head upwards, he can see the royal palace. [color=f26522]"I wonder if I can see the king there...I have questions for him...However...If I just intruded, would I be killed? Or..."[/color] He took a sip from his ale-skin and chuckled. [color=f26522]"I wonder if any of the guards in the palace can take me...With their heavy mail and ridiculous swords and all.."[/color] He thought to himself as he weaved his way through the streets and headed for the royal palace..."King Sariel..." He whispered.

[color=f26522]"I'm home, brother..." [/color]

It was the first time he has called the king his brother with such conviction, and even then it was barely above and audible whisper...