[center][b]Haljon[/b]
[b]Streets of Helias[/b][/center]

Haljon rubbed his hands fiercely together, vainly trying to warm them. He had taken off his gloves, which had been damp at the time and were no doubt stiff from frost now. He mumbled a curse, wishing Noxios would move the damn sun out from the clouds. Haljon shivered involuntarily, and mumbled another curse at his mail hauberk for making him so damn cold. He lifted his head up from his hands, having been breathing on them, and took stock of his surroundings. Snow was everywhere, blanketing building and street alike. The stark white was contrasted in places by a grayish color, having been tainted by the filth of the city. He was at an intersection in some god-forsaken corner of the city. With a twist of regret, Haljon recalled the boy offering to guide him towards the North Gate—his destination—and him refusing. 

[i]Still, the price was outrageous.[/i]

The thought reminded him of his significant lack of funds. Enough to buy a horse, and perhaps a night's lodging at a half-decent inn. He snorted. What a sight he was, a Knight without a steed. Groaning, Haljon picked a random direction and started down the street. As he walked, he looked around towards the architecture. They were all dull colors of gray, brown and black; making the city seem even bleaker than it already had, with the sun covered by clouds and the streets filled with dirty snow. His stomach growled, reminding him that on top of freezing, he was also starving. Haljon found himself, not for the first time that day, fervently wishing he was in a tavern with a warm cup of wine, his stomach full of bread and a roaring fire in front of him. 

He recalled the events that had brought him to Helias. The Head of House Perar had needed someone to give the Head of House Rynir a report about some such, and he was available, so of course he was sent. Araos knew why they decided to send him instead of one of the numerous courtiers. Haljon supposed they wanted someone who could defend himself against any highwaymen or bandits, but the roads had been fairly safe recently, so he wasn't too sure about that conclusion. Regardless, he had arrived in Helias and paid for lodgings in a nearby inn. He had led his horse into the inn's stables, foolishly leaving his saddle and pack on her as well. He awoke in the morning to find his horse gone, along with most of supplies and gold. Haljon cursed his stupidity and bad luck for the umpteenth time that day. He had reported in to House Rynir anyway, but was too ashamed to ask for a horse from their stables. Haljon knew it would be a while before he lived [i]that[/i] one down. And now, here he was, roaming the gods-be-damned streets in the bitter cold, in search of a stables—which was supposedly near the North Gate—that would sell him a decent horse. 

[i]Clop, clop.[/i]

Haljon stopped. He had heard something, faint but growing louder. [i]Clop, clop.[/i] Recalling the warnings given to him by the city guard regarding ambushes in the streets, he loosened his sword Limbcleaver in it's scabbard. The sound became louder. [i]Clop, clop.[/i] Hoof-beats on cobblestone, he was certain. A large figure astride a horse rounded the bend, and Haljon relaxed as he recognized the figure to be a guard. [b]"Ho, guardsman!"[/b] He boomed, and began trotting towards him when he realized, with a start, that it was not a [i]him[/i], but a [i]her[/i]. Haljon shook his head, disregarding the revelation, and continued on his path towards her. As he approached, nearly as tall as she even atop the horse, he called out again: [b]"Mighty cold day out, eh? Mayhaps you could point me towards the North Gate? I've no clue as to where I am."[/b] He let out a rumbling chuckle.