Lysander's trip would take the rest of the day, given the distance between the two. As their trusted aly carried their warning across the seas, Celine made an effort to keep herself busy, trying not to think of what may have become of her people, and the fate of her parents. She explored the refurbished castle with her childhood companion, delighting in seeing the hallways the two of them used to chase each other through. The whole time, it was hard for her not to notice how much her friend had grown; he was still head-strong and boyish at heart, but he had become quite the king.
But the tour could only last for so long. The next morrow had left the red-head to her own devices, and to stare at her father's sword with sad eyes. That was, until the noble mouse from before discovered hr, ad inquired to her skill with that blade.
Well, one couldn't leave a challenge on the table, now could she?
Thus, that found her in the courtyard. Familair in the more painful fashion, Celine buried herself in the sparring match with Reepicheep. Steel clashed on small steel, as Celine found herself unable to cope with the enemy being of such small stature. Thus, after several attempts, she lost.
"I'm...impressed..." she said, wiping the sweat from her brow. "You have the advantage of the ages,friend. If only my army fought so well."
"I hone my skill for the good of the crown, my lady," Reepicheep(who was trying not to look as tired) smirked, also panting. "But you...were close. Don't give up."
The red-head laughed, taking a drink from her waterskin. She'd made the switch from her dress to something easier to move in; a leather jerkin with a plain tunic, trousers and boots. If her mother could see her now. she'd balk at her little angel looking so unfeminine. The thought made her sigh, face forlorn, and slowly removing the tye from her copper-red tresses.
"I wonder if he'll be back soon," she muttered.