As you walk through the beautiful stone masonry of the palace courtyard the world seems peaceful, it seemed so easy to forget that war raged on around the countries borders, sweeping through the palace itself at one time, though that seemed a distant memory now. As you pass through the courtyard you come across a young man in his mid 20s sitting in one of the stone alcoves wearing a baggy white shirt, black trousers and long military style boots, fiddling with his sword in his hand, half talking to himself.

“A beautiful morning. I can scarcely remember a time Albion was quite as beautiful as this.” The stranger said with a smile taking a large lungful of fresh air. “Calming for the soul.” You’d never have dared imagine that this kindly man was Prince Alastor, second in line for all Albion.