15 March, 1369. Magdaline Castle, Islia.
Celia couldn't tear her eyes off the imposing stone structure on the gentle rise before her. Her never ending tiredness now banished, she'd been watching with growing excitement as their group drew closer and closer to the castle, with its mighty stone outer wall and imposing towers. The visible symbol of her grandfather's enduring power.
Father's power now, she quickly corrected herself.
It was all going to take her a little time to get used to the recent changes.
Celia hoped her grandfather was still in good enough health for her to visit and talk with him. She was dying to know why he'd made such an unprecedented decision.
The old king wasn't one to leave anything to chance. Knowing his canny ways, it would've been something he'd given a great deal of thought to. Hopefully she'd be able to sneak away for an afternoon or two and go see him in-
Where exactly would he be these days?