The lime green grass bathed in the rays of heat radiating from the sky. A tall, elderly oak stretched its branches to the farthest point they would extend, welcoming the cool breeze that danced around its leaves.
The sun was not far-gone its maximum altitude, and now began casting shadows off towards the far hills, much like a talented sorcerer. The sun commanded the shadows to grow larger more, and like a willing beast, in little time they did.
Young Nev pounded his feet heavily onto the grass as he raced across the field, under the oak and towards the small town. He was desperately trying to beat the shadows to the wooden gate, but the sun was falling closer to land by the second.
His worn, auburn tunic waved to the countryside involuntarily as the boy bounded up and down, left, and then right. The towns greeting was nearly in his sight now, his one good eye could easily make out the signs scripture, but he was not sure if he could read it from such a distance, or if from memory: "Glannuen - home of free men, home of brave men, and home of all those that wear an honest smile."
Nevs other eye was blanketed by a light, soil brown eye-patch. But this was the only deterrant on the 14 year olds face. Anyone could have quite easily predicted that he would grow up to be a very handsome man, little hints were already appearing.
His jaw line had recently started to become more prominent, a solid foundation for the boys facial structure. He bore high cheek bones and wore hollowed cheeks, much like his mother. His nose was minature, but well shaped. It tipped down as it reached the peak, but only slightly.
He sighed heavily as he realized the shadows had managed to scale half of the 20 foot high perimeter wall. His first loss of the day. Left panting like an exhausted dog, Nev walked half heartedly through the open gates, and was greeted with the smell of a market.
A food market. His senses were flanked and out manouvered. The scent of sweet bread wafted through the air and teased at his nostrils, causing a sensation of a warmth to trickle down his sinuses. His eye was stunned by the bright colours of the foreign stalls. Lucious yellows and green banners drapped across the entire market, with more waving about in the hands of women dressed in a clouded-pink dresses.
The boy darted in between buyers and sellers, friends and family, and the market guard. Most of which were tall, wide shouldered men, but they each had a rappier hanging from their belts, and a whip wrapped slyly around their shoulders.
New whisked his growing hair away from his face, he was to seek out a man called Acabor, a red skin mercenary.