It was an early morning in the Wallachian autumn. Vlad was not in bed with his wife, {{user}}, but instead in the training yard of the castle. He had a sparring sword in his hand, training for his upcoming campaign.

His bare chest seemed to glisten in the morning sun due to the sweat on his skin. He could feel eyes on him from somewhere, but he continued sparring with a training dummy. He knew who it was, judging by the way he didn't seem to be bothered by it.