Edwin always recalled his father's teachings. About how one's dignity and stature should be protected. Being the son of a general who has fought against the Nords, he knew all too well about dignity. 'Your stature in life is as important as your sword in battle' he recalled a saying from Westhaven.

If only he could say the same as his cousin would constantly beat him around. Harold apparently loved to see Edwin in this state, not bloodied or wounded, but merely humiliated. Not that he should feel bad, since he wasn't the one with the shield.

It was a good thing then, that their 'training grounds' were only a few steps away from Skoravik. Can't have people fighting each other for fun as colonials wouldn't allow it. The silent trees were the only ones who watched them fight since Alfred's men were busy in town. If bandits were to ambush them, more training for Harold, at least.

"You're done yet, cousin?" Harold jested, not to Edwin's humour. Harold tends to do that to show off of course. The latter got up as soon as possible, wielding his shield and sword again. Harold grappled hard with the wooden longsword as if his two hands were being conjoined to it, more than ready to strike back.. He saw his cousin panting, his shield barely being raised against him. "Higher Edwin, don't make me feel pitiful," Harold said annoyingly, annoyed at the lack of challenge. At least, Edwin provided some good training for him.

Edwin clearly didn't take it lightly, as he immediately thrust his sword at him. He fixated on Harold's face, his lower half covered in a brown beard and small, green eyes, as Harold merely dodged it while giving a proper love tap to his cousin. Edwin was then sent to the ground once again.

"I can't save you all the time, you know," Harold said as Edwin hurriedly took his shield again, gripping it with irritation. If weren't for his shield (and his cousin), Edwin would have died a dozen deaths. Harold took great pleasure in utilizing it as his weakness. "Your shield is for defence, not for attacking," Harold instructed, not even bothering whether Edwin listened or not. His breaths are constantly long, clearly tired from this friendly skirmish.

"Why can't you just let me win?" Edwin asked. Harold grinned, too much for his own good in fact. In a way, he should feel pity for him. He clearly didn't have the strength to beat him. If anything, the bones protruding at his chest should prove much so. Not that it convinces Harold to let him win either way.

In the last attempt, Edwin swung his sword to the left, which Harold parried with little effort before hitting it on his head. Edwin's body fell into a ragdoll, with half of his mind reacting to the pain. His lean and skinny structure did not help at all, leaving Edwin to swing his sword to the ground in anger, while spitting out the snow that came to his mouth. Without a moment to waste, Harold simply walked up to him and raised his faux sword. "Yield?" he asked in a friendly manner, his sword lingering about his body.

"Damn it, it's no fun if you win all the time," Edwin cursed under his breath, refusing his cousin's offer to get up. Every defeat by him only reminded him of his inferiority. Didn't help at all that his father clearly favoured Harold over him. He might as well say that to him, he thought as he brushed his face. His shield was rather bruised after years of use. But nevertheless, he took it with pride, as its wooden structure still holds firm. "You can't give me a chance," Edwin asked as he got up.

"Give you a chance?" Harold chuckled. Harold couldn't contain his laugh as he covered his mouth at him. "Be sure to say that to the man who will cut your head off," Harold said. Little statements like this made his cousin so adorable to him.

Edwin saw red and finally had enough with him. With a long breath, he took his sword and trusted it with Harold. Unfortunately for him, the wooden plank barely missed Harold by an inch, his eyes blaring as he could jest no longer. Harold simply parried his sword hard enough for Edwin's sword to fly out to the ground, before raising it to his neck. Edwin gulped his breath frosting Harold's sword. "Don't do that again," Harold said in a harsh tone, soft enough for no one else to take heed.

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"Alright, lower please," Edwin pleaded, his anger now turned to fear.

Harold sighed as his mood was now ruined, putting the sword back in its original place. As Harold and Edwin gathered the wooden swords, Harold had something to say about yesterday's battle.

"You're lucky your father is rich enough to buy you mail armour, those bandits could very well kill you," Harold said as Edwin simply scoffed, too tired to avenge his own humiliation. It was true though. Armour like his was definitely hard to find. Not that his father was rich, but rather handed down to him. His father was a general after all. He knew as he could smell the age from it.

"And you're especially lucky I'm there to save your hide every time, hard as it may seem," Edwin specifically hated hearing that from him. "I didn't ask you to try to save me" Edwin shrugged as he panted, taking his shield.

"Alright friend, you won't be to be positive? I'm always glad to see your potential, so glad that your shield-blocking exercises have paid out," Harold quipped back, enjoying this banter with him.

But not so much for Edwin. He hated the cold air more than him. Two seasons ago, his toes nearly broke off after a few days without boots. That wouldn't happen on Westhaven, he thought as they both went back to the stables so that they could tend to their horses. At least that's one thing Edwin was good at.

Edwin did take good care of his horse. 'Mary', that was the name he bestowed. She was a noble friend indeed to have a name. No one, not even Harold, would take the time to name their horse. He brushed her black mane as he noticed his father coming.

Harold also took notice of John approaching. As usual, John's face was merely calm. No reaction or anything like that. Both Harold and Edwin couldn't really care then. They have been to bounty after bounty. There is no difference between the last one, and the one before it.

"Hello dear uncle, I hope you'll forgive my lesson with Edwin," Harold said as he was finished scrubbing his horse. He saw Edwin as he did his best to ignore him. After all, Edwin knew that it was better to simply not react. John then patted with his palms at his shoulders, before giving off a small grin.

"Uncle, what is it?" Harold asked.

"You all know we are leaving Skoravik, right?" John tried to dismiss his worries as he saw his horse slowly waiting for him, as her rope was only now tangled. "Well, do we really have to leave that early?" Harold asked. Even if they were used to roaming town after town, Harold couldn't help but feel rushed. Especially looking at his uncle's appearance. Already have white strings in his brown hair. " What's our pay?" John stopped at Edwin's sentence, never thought he would say that.

"Edwin, why did you..."

"There is a lady who wishes to be escorted," John replied, as he raised his bag of money to Harold. He did make sure to look around so that no one would see it. Harold's eyes widened, confused as he would never have seen that many coins.

"Where did you get it from?" Harold asked in shock.

"Not from the Crown, I assure you," John answered. Edwin smiled as Harold simply was bewildered. Who was this woman who gave them this?

"Have you ever asked her who she was, father?" Harold asked.

"Does it matter, she'll be joining us on our journey" John simply replied, not that there was a better way to answer him? "She? Wait, we're escorting now" Harold demanded some answers, not entirely sure of what his uncle had told him. Lately, Harold has become doubtful over the days here. Just because mercenaries were allowed to roam Nordlund, doesn't mean they could just break the law. For all they know, she could be the death of them all. "Do you even know why she is coming?" Harold demanded.

"No, I don't, and I don't really care," John simply shrugged, not having any more of his opinion. Aside from his strength, every other facet about Harold didn't hold quite well with him. "Regardless, we're bringing her to Klarelva. Whether you agree or not is irrelevant," John made it final in his voice. Harold scoffed, doing the last arrangements on his horse before leaving.

"So just like that, you agree. Some bloody witch she must be," Harold said as he left. No words or remark to spare for his uncle. John knew it was only a few years since he reached adulthood. And thus his actions were understandable to him. John simply looked at Edwin, noticing a small scar on his neck.

"You lost it to Harold again?" John asked. Disappointingly as his eyes told Edwin. Edwin merely nodded. His father simply did the same and said, "At least you are meek, makes my life easier," John said as he patted his son's shoulder.

"Thank you... father," Edwin said. He knew very well it wasn't a compliment for him.