[center][b][h2]Erik Elfhame Ostriecher V[/h2][/b]
[i]Mistmoor Stronghold[/i][/center]

[indent]Erik trekked his way along the fortress battlements, looking out at the calling dusk beyond Grand Wall. He moved swiftly despite being adorned by his full array of armor and weapons. He couldn't say that he was particularly enthused by the nightwatch ahead of him, but it was his turn on shift, it wasn't becoming of him to complain; he would stand vigilant in the moonlight the same as under the hot sun. As was his tradition, he had departed his quarters early to ensure himself plenty of time to reach the watchtower, and to have enough time to steel himself for the hours that stood before him. 

In a moment of rare form, this night would come with a minor distraction from his march to duty. It started as he passed by his father, who looked rather dissappointed as the pair crossed paths. Erik only exchanged a nod of acknowledgement, knowing well enough not to push words at such a time. The expression on his elder's face told him one sure thing: a lesson hadn't gone as well as he'd have liked. Erik could only guess as to which student; surely not a soldier, or the expression on his face would have been redder, and Erik would have avoided his eyes entirely. 

It didn't take long before the young Knight of Mistmoor found the source of frustration. In the nearest battlement, sat upon a bench usually occupied by a guard off rotation, say one Tarrian Kar, the noble daughter. Erik had heard she had taken her training to his father, and now she looked more than the part of his pupil. Passing by, he noticed her expression was the same as he had once worn. He halted near the bench, and, while still looking at the way before him said, "Don't take it too personally. He's hard on everyone he trains."[/indent]