Fall 21th 510 AV.
Markus stood in the field looking to the night sky, watching the stars sparkle in the darkness, it had been a long time since he had last given himself the time to just stare blankly at the night sky, watch the beauty and wonders of the sky. His vision went back down to the ground, the bare ground beneath his feet, just dust and firm ground. Nothing interesting about that, he turned to face his equipment behind him. His trusted sword was leaning against his steel shield, the same sword he had been given by his father the day he had become a squire. He was having a hard time believing so much time had passed, it felt like yesterday that he had been handed this sword. The shield itself was resting against the bow and quiver that Markus, for some reason, kept dragging down here, despite him never having used it once during his evening training.
He wasn't wearing his usual plate mail, instead he was only wearing hardened leather clothing. Just to take the brunt of the force. He wasn't wearing any gloves, nor was he wearing any boots or socks. A habit he had gotten from Richard during their years of training together.
Markus was getting impatient with Richard. He was a bit sleepy after a long day of training and he would much rather be lying in his bed and be getting a good night’s sleep. But he had promised his friend he would practice with him tonight and he always tried to keep his word. Even if it meant he had push aside his own needs from time to time. He drew his blade from the scabbard. Felt the familiar hilt against the palm of his hand. For 5 years he had been swinging this blade and this blade meant a lot to him. He swung the blade through the air in a couple of very simple combinations. This was a simple exercise to get his blood flowing again and get some warmth out to his limbs and prepare for the training.
But he was starting to wonder when Richard would show up.