His face marks the passage of time, a few scars here and there each with there own story. The light that shines in his blue eyes is just as bright as it ever was, his hair has turned the color of ashes. The body is still taught and muscular, hours of training had shaped him, molded him into someone you would have to think twice about before getting into an argument.

Hallam his father had taught him the rudiments of sword fighting, in that regard Aranford was a quick learner, he is a fine horseman started riding almost as soon as he could walk. In regard to his letters, he would find any excuse to put it to one side, much to the annoyance of his mother. His early life was for the most part a happy one, but nothing lasts for ever......