Fall 44th - 510 AV.
Markus K. Andres was making sure he had everything on him as he prepared to leave. He had a quiver with sufficient arrows. He had his bow, short bow, composite. Borrowed from the Knights for practice purposes. He was wearing his regular clothes, a black shirt, black trousers. He considered if he should ask for some leather armor, to reduce the risk of being slain by a random shot from some fool. He shrugged the feeling away, Knights usually didn't miss their targets and it was even rarer that he had seen them even be close to hitting a fellow knight by mistake. Markus checked his quiver to make sure he hadn't forgotten the arrows. He counted them quickly, 21 arrows. Weird number of arrows to be given. He shrugged.
He strapped the quiver to his back. Picked up the bow and walked out into the city. People gave him some room to move, considering he was armed with a bow and arrows. Not that they gave him a lot of space, just enough so he didn't brush against people constantly. If he was only wearing his plate armor or had his bastard sword strapped to his back instead of a quiver, then people would give him more space. But it was better than nothing, he supposed. He flashed his usual jovial smile as he walked and whistled lowly to himself. Markus loved to train.
He would be walking in his own thoughts as he walked in the crowd. It was quite obvious that he was going to train, if anyone paid any special attention to him.
Right above the post, if I remember correctly.