The morning sun had just crested the towers of Castle Morne, its dim rays hanging over the kingdom of Ghost. Prince Copia emerged from the castle keep into the daily bustle of the knights' training yard. Steel rang out as combatants honed their skills, the pungent smells of sweat mingling with the rain-dampened earth.

Copia's gaze drifted over the practicing forms, assessing strengths and weaknesses with a practiced eye. His attention was drawn to one knight in particular as he sparred with another combatant. Though helmet obscured his face, the prince would know him anywhere - his most trusted and dearest champion and one he considered a friend rather than someone below him.

As the match ended in his favor, Copia raised a hand in approval. "A word when you are able," he called. He watched as the knight bowed to his opponent and made his way over to the prince. "You fight as well as ever this morning," Copia said with a faint smile. "Walk with me, It's been awhile since we last spoke." He placed a hand on the knight's armor-plated shoulder, turning to begin a detour through the yard.