<span style="font-style: italic">"I wear my armor to protect myself, so that I may live to serve another day... "</span><br/><br/>Several days he'd been traveling since he last set foot in civilization. Several days of muck and grime marred his splinted greaves, till the water damage had turned the leather sections a chalky tan.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"I bear my sword to defend the innocent. Those who cannot fight, those who cannot flee, those who have no other options. Only the wicked will taste it's edge, for life is precious, and must only be stolen from the irredeemable."</span><br/><br/>His white surcoat's hem was frayed from stray branches and close encounters with unfriendly arrows. Most bandits and highwaymen knew better than to attack an armored and armed knight, but there were the few who were either nearsighted enough to think him a traveling priest, or crazy enough to attempt to murder him for his valuable armor and blade. But the rose insignia at his breast remained as red as the day he'd received it.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"I carry naught but these tools, a coat on my shoulders for warmth, a bow with arrows notched for hunting game, and just enough coin for my next meal. The generosity of others keeps me strong, so long as I return generosity in kind."</span><br/><br/>The mantra he'd taken to heart was somewhat outdated. On his back, beneath his kite shield was a small satchel bearing a crossbow and several small steel bolts. A bow was far too finicky for his tastes - small disturbances like heavy rain could break the whole thing and render the craftsmanship useless, and the size of the weapon was far too large to carry conveniently into towns and on trails.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"To walk with worries and concerns over the material is to walk into one's grave. To walk unburdened by the world is to travel freely."</span><br/><br/>Aaron took a seat at the base of the last large tree on the border of a wide open clearing. Beyond it, a massive sturdy wall of solid rock, bordered by perilously steep mountansides. An unmistakable match for that very same city the villagers down by the coast spoke of.<br/>A single glance behind him seemed to sap all of his energy away. Nothing down that hill but the tops of trees for miles, stretching all the way into the broad sweeping flatland he had come from. The fishing village he had set out from was but a dot on the edge of the waterfront, nearly unnoticeable unless one strained their vision and knew what they were looking for.<br/><br/>He sighed, unbuckling his swordbelt and slamming the tip of the scabbard into the earth. Off next, his shield, which he carefully hung on the crossguard of his grounded blade. At last, he could sit down and enjoy the last of his trail rations that the people on the coast had prepared him. Some might consider several loafs of bread and some salted jerky a pitiful reward for risking one's life, but to Aaron it made each tooth-breaking bite all the more delicious.<br/><br/>As he ate, he continued to marvel at the massive fortification before him, its heavy walls barring all who dared to come here will ill intent. But, of course, he wouldn't be here if it were anywhere near as successful as its makers intended.<br/>His travels had left him tired, tense, and grimy. His medium length brown hair lay slicked with sweat in mats against his head, and his jaw was marked with unpresentable amounts of stubble. Yeah. He should be just about disgusting enough to fit in with a city.