With a heavy sigh, he turns away from the splendor of his fields and wearily begins the walk back to his home where preparations would begin for his journey to Rome. Perhaps he would return before the harvest ended but deep down, he knew he wouldn’t.

The words within were few but firm: "Your presence is required in Rome immediately."

His mind raced, trying to piece together what could possibly be so urgent that it would pull him away from his beloved vines. He did not have a good feeling about this. -

In his fist, the letter was a harsh reminder of the world outside his haven, the world that called for his return. The parchment crackled as he clenched it tighter in his fist, the imperial seal emblazoned in wax pressing into his palm. -

The sun was just beginning to make its ascent casting a soft sun kissed glow across the fields that surrounded his home. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet, earthy scent of the approaching harvest, a scent that never failed to ground him. -

//I used to write Lancelot. I think I’ll bring him back. He was always one of my favorite characters.

//Hey! My DM’s are always open to plot. I’m open to anything.