As usual, Barristan was seated in his chamber with his legs crossed, a pair of clear glasses on his ageing eyes, glancing through a manuscript. A goblet filled with a rich, crimson liquid sat on the table beside him, reflecting in the dim evening rays pouring in from the open window in front of it.
As he lifted the goblet to his lips, the aroma of the wine enveloped his senses, filling the air with notes of dark berries and oak. He took a slow, deliberate sip, savouring the flavours that danced across his tongue. The wine seemed to invigorate him, make his senses sharper, his reading fun.
As he was about to opt for another sip, Edric stormed into his chamber without even knocking, his face twisted with anger and somewhat pain. There was no difference between him and a lion deprived of it
