Sir Benjamin Broadshield, Knight of renown, son and brother of Lords, and warrior without equal, sat hunched over a pitiful little fire clutching a pan of bacon, beside a ruinous tower. His shield, the broken manacles on a field of green, was hanging from a nearby tree. Tradition was difficult to break. Even though he was fleeing manhunters down south, he felt obligated to announce his presence to passers-by. Chivalry demanded it. Not that he was terribly upset about it. He was near the border now, and this northern land was sparsely settled- and more importantly, it was sparsely patrolled. He had seen neither hide nor hair of a soldier- or a bounty hunter- in what felt like an eternity, and the watchtower he had taken refuge in must have been abandoned for quite some time. In truth, he did not like it much. But a great storm rolled through a few nights ago, and forced his hand. In the end it seemed to serve well enough. The roof worked, at least, though the place was draftier than any castle he'd ever been in. He had limited himself to the first level of the structure- the stairwell looked fragile, and he did not trust the upper level. 

His fellow Merovahns certainly did not seem to be very worried about the possibility of an invasion from the North, to leave a perfectly good watchtower unlooked after. They would see the error, soon enough, the Knight reasoned. The thought lifted his spirits. He began to whistle whilst turning the strips of bacon with a fork. Within a few moments, he found himself [url=http://vocaroo.com/i/s04DRLpi4Jn4]softly singing, too.[/url] Shifting the bacon from the pan to a little tin plate alongside a hunk of stale black bread, he began to nibble on what passed for his breakfast. In days gone by, he had feasted among Kings and high Lords, on capon and quail and eel, fine pastries and cakes, sausages, light, flaky fish, and bread of every description. Oh, and the wine. Oh, [i]yes[/i], the wine. If only he had some now, instead of the mug of foul-tasting water he currently enjoyed. He knew he should not complain, knowing that many- non-humans, in particular- would have jumped at the opportunity to partake of his paltry meal.

As he ate, he scanned the horizon. The tower in which he was currently making camp sat at a crossroads. A beaten old road went north and south, hills in one direction and lowland in the other, and a better maintained route ran east to west. About one hundred yards away was a little stream, its course dotted here and there by copses of trees. otherwise, there was little to report. He could see nothing of interest, and thus, was not much worried about defending himself. His armor was inside, protected from the elements, and his horse Alexander was tied to the same tree that his shield was hanging from. His sword and dagger were at his belt, and, in a pinch, that would be enough. He did not likely make much of a sight without his full kit, but his reputation ran before him, and seemed to scare off most novice challengers. 

Currently he wore a leather jerkin, a simple tunic, and leather trousers. His left eye was covered by a round patch of black cloth, held in place by a band of cloth running across the back of his head. Oddly enough, he was barefoot. After breakfast, he decided, he would bathe in the stream, gather his belongings, and begin the last leg of his journey. Soon, he would join Stormvahk and his army. With victory, mayhap, he could return home- and perhaps take his brother's Lordship? Only time could tell. A smile came to Benjamin's lips, [url=http://vocaroo.com/i/s16OT3gQbsUy]and he whistled again.[/url]