Lyn walked briskly towards the palace yard. She had been up before dawn to finally receive her shield from her grudgingly impressed maesters. It was a well-crafted circular metal piece with a [url=http://i.imgur.com/eqcTrqI.png]Phoenix[/url] engraved in the center, and had been forged back when Lyn had graduated from the Academy—she just hadn’t been allowed to own it until now.

Her fancier, bulkier tournament armor was in storage at the Academy. Lyn wore a simple tunic and breeches underneath reinforced [url=https://d2sx9mrt4zumaq.cloudfront.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/SotA_Female_LeatherArmor-969x1024.jpg]leather armor[/url] that was more lightweight and better for traveling long distances. Her shield was strapped to her back, and what few supplies she needed were fastened to a sack at her hip, on the opposite side of her sword in its sheath.

Lyn wondered what it would really be like, traveling with the prince for so long. What little she knew of the elusive young man was that he had never trained alongside the squires and pages; she’d never seen him lift a sword or ride alone on horseback. She wondered if the reason for his detachment was truly just due to his ego, or if there was another reason that he wasn’t as physically capable as a crown prince should usually be. He was probably rather intelligent, though; with all the time he spent crouched over dusty tomes and scrolls.

She rounded a corner and finally saw the covered wagon waiting there in the yard. A few stablemen scurried about, checking the wagon’s wheels and brushing off the steed that was fastened to its front. It was an unassuming mare; one that looked hardy, but didn’t seem to have come from the royal stables. Lyn raised her eyebrows. The plot thickened.

It didn’t matter, though. She’d accepted the job for the money and to get out of Leincrad; she didn’t much care what exactly Prince Aidan was setting out to do.

Lyn stopped a few feet away, seeing that the prince still hadn’t looked up at her. She hoped he hadn't been waiting long, and cleared her throat. “Lyn of the Western Isles, reporting for duty, my lord.”