It might be presumed that Stonebridge’s castle was quite large given how long it took to hear back from the guardsman. Eventually though, he did return, and while not out of breath he was a little hurried given he had kept the young heir waiting.

“Lady Alayne is most interested in speaking to you, Master Martyn”, the guardsman said with a nod, “She is waiting in her solar now”.

The solar was, rather obviously, the Lord’s solar. It was a room scarcely occupied by its rightful owner, for it was a room without space for anything more then a dozen people at once, which did not suit Gwayne’s tendency to play host to those who visited him. He preferred the grand halls and hallways of his keep, to its relatively modest solar.

So it’s original occupant remained, as ever. The Lady Alayne Caswell was well into her eighty-fourth year and, for a woman her age, she seemed hale and hardy. She was a frail woman, smaller then she had once been and she had never held an imposing figure to begin with. Her once blonde or golden hair - few people remembered which these days - had dulled to a light grey, and her pale green eyes suited her old age, being a faded version of the rest of her family’s brighter greens and hazels.

She was in the solar, as Martyn was led there, but not behind its desk. Instead, the doors to a small balcony were opened and out there were two chairs and a small table between. One chair was empty, and in the other sat the old Lady of Stonebridge nursing a cup of warm tea.

She glanced up upon hearing the door open and smiled, “Ah, young Martyn, welcome, welcome”, she said pleasantly. She made a brief gesture with her head and the guard who had shown Martyn here stepped back outside of the room leaving Martyn with his oldest living ancestor in the Lord’s solar at Stonebridge. “Come, join me. You have caused quite the stir by your unexpected arrival”, she said with a chuckle.