5
Goodbyes
Julian pulled his mail over his head and rolled his shoulders a few times to coax it into settling more comfortably around his frame.
Not that it was ever actually comfortable, especially when the weather turned toward heat. But it beat being skewered. Most days.
Once the mail was situated as best it could be, he pulled on a dark green shirt overtop the linked rings and looped his baldric and sword scabbard over his shoulder. Then he buckled on his belt and checked himself in the little mirror he had mounted on the wall of his flat.
Nothing seemed too out of place, so he picked up his bedroll and lifted his saddle bags over his other shoulder, then he left.
He stomped down the staircase that led from his front door down to street level, then he set out for The Oarlock,
