The water sluiced from the swimmer’s body, sparkling in the rising sun like tiny diamonds. As the droplets hit the stone floor of the courtyard, their radiance winked out of existence. Strange, the man thought to himself, I didn’t think I’d been gone that long. He pulled a coarse towel from its place on a nearby branch and walked over to where he had left his clothes. Stripping off his wet things, he dressed himself quickly and then neatly folded the towel. He was late for his morning routine.

Travis Kiltias strode quickly through the courtyard of Castle Agnace, taking care to tread lightly so as not to wake the guards. Their barracks surrounded the courtyard on three sides, the other opened into a large gallery before turning out into the Coronian countryside. Breathing in deeply, the red-haired traveler took his Akashima redwood staff in hand and set a course for the rising sun. He’d have to run.

The lone traveler on the dusty road from Castle Agnace to Jadet wore little besides his clothes and an equipment belt. Unencumbered, he was free to go where he pleased. Weeks earlier, the young adventurer had been turned out of the Dajas Pagoda of Scara Brae. He’d entered the place looking for a challenge, but it had soon turned into more of a chore. The robust warrior had loathed beating newcomers senseless time and time again, but the Hierarchs further up had proven too hardy to dethrone. Thus, the redhead found himself free of obligation and wandering the streets of that fair city.

Each loping stride he took along the road to Jadet fell in a strict cadence, no matter the terrain underfoot. Uphill, downhill, across flat expanses; Travis made sure to keep a measured pace so that he could track how much longer he had. The run calmed him as much as the swim had; physical activity such as this always served to clear his mind. And he’d had a lot to think about lately.

Krystyn was at the forefront of his thoughts, as always, but he knew that dwelling on her for too long would drive him mad. And so he occupied his time with training, the same routine every day so that he would have no idle time to think of her. Pushing the image of her face deeper into his consciousness, the ex-Hierarch counted his steps.

One, two. One, two. One, two, they fell rhythmically and carried him further from the source of his greatest troubles.

Out of Character:
Solo, I believe