The rain had hammered down for hours and there was no sign of that letting up. He looked out the window, wiping the condensation that had formed on the glass with the back of his sleeve and it was nothing short of torrential; puddles had formed all over the old cobbled street and shutters were closed everywhere.

A few minutes later the noise on the roof ceased, as if someone had flicked a switch. He took to standing, pacing the room and looking out the window again, clearing the condensation again so as to reveal the scene that had transformed in just a few short minutes.

The rain had stopped. The ground was wet and drips were seen everywhere but the sun had broken through and whilst the twilight wasn’t far away, the sun was here and it was a sight of much comfort. He would make the trip. The trip he had to make for he had no other option. He would gather the papers, slip them into his coat and make the trip up to the castle beyond the arch.

And so he gathered the necessary, he signed the paper and rolled the documents, tying them with a red ribbon and putting them carefully into his pocket. As he took to the street, he would see Mr Borthwick peering through a window and another gentleman of whom he couldn’t identify already half way through the arch, moving purposefully towards the Kings Arms Tavern.

With a thud, he pulled the heavy oak door closed and embraced the evening as it developed. Birds flew overhead and the sun was now setting quite magically, the storm having passed and the slippery wet cobbles and puddles the only remnant of the storm he had witnessed just a short while before, almost completely erased from the mind of all…