An hour before dawn, Blake had woken up, splashed some cold water on his face, took off his tunic, and began to silently work out. Underneath his tunic lay a well tanned mass of muscles. He had a defined 6-pack and well defined muscular chest and arms. He wasn't the strongest man alive, but he certainly knew how to take care of his body. He began with menial push-ups, sit-ups, and the like for about 20 minutes, then tossed his tunic over his shoulder, grabbed his weapon belt and bag, and headed down the stairs.

The Inn's staff had barely started beginning their day as Blake headed out the back door and stepped into a small clearing between the Inn and the outhouses. His breath steamed the chilly morning air and his skin blossomed with goosebumps as he dropped his bag next to one of the outhouses, unsheathed his sword and deposited the sheath next to the bag, then walked into the clearing. His footsteps made the frosted over ground reveal the grass underneath. For the next 30-40 minutes, he practiced with his longsword. He wasn't doing any particular kata or maneuver, just what felt like needed to be done at those particular moments. His movements were all fluid, having used a blade for more than 25 years.

As he practiced, the frost around him receded due to his own body heat as well as the footsteps. By the time he finished practicing, the ground around where he began had been cleared of frost in a three foot radius, for he had kept his movements tight, expecting the upcoming fight with a thief. As the sun began to peak over the horizon, Blake finished up, sheathed his sword, tossed on his tunic and grabbed his bag, then headed inside. He went back upstairs and dunked his sweaty head in the cold bathwater and hand-washed a few choice areas of sweat. He then greeted anyone that was awake, and headed downstairs.

Shortly after everyone gathered downstairs (and yes, Blake did pull out the chairs again for the ladies), the large retainer of the lord ambled inside the Inn, gave his information out, and left. "Hmmm, that was short and to the point." Blake reached for the stack of notes and began to pour over them. As he read one page, he handed it to the next person, doing that with each page. "Anyone good with choosing horses? Not my specialty."