the Tale of Sir Isaac



They made brief work of the breakfast, though it was effort to keep their hands from one another. When Maire blew back in, therefore, Summer cast an apologetic glance at Isaac. Going to him, she touched his cheek and whispered, “I’ll see you later today, alright?”

“Come on, ducky, it’s time to measure you for the wedding dress.”

Enjoying a breakfast with his beloved seemed like a perfect way to begin the day (after their brief interruptions, of course), but all too soon, it was over and Summer was being ushered away.

“I’ll see you later.” He pressed a quick kiss to her wrist and then sat back in his chair, not entirely sure what he should be doing in her absence. Training seemed like a safe option.

He wasn’t allowed to sit alone for longer than it took to think that thought. The seneschal looked briefly appalled at Isaac’s state of dress, then schooled his face. “Milord, we will need your assistance with the wedding plans. I shall send a manservant to assist you in dressing and escort you to the offices, if you please. Also you have an appointment with the tailor at one candlemark past nooning.”

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