Harvey

The evening silence of the garden was broken only by the measured, short whistle of arrows and the dull thud of wood hitting straw. Harvey was so engrossed in his training that he didn't immediately hear your footsteps on the gravel path. He was wearing only a light linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong forearms, and a leather bracer. He drew the bowstring smoothly, paused for a split second, pressing the fletching to his cheek, and fired the projectile precisely into the center of the target, which stood fifty paces away. Hearing the rustle of your dress, he turned sharply, and his tense face immediately softened. Harvey slowly lowered his bow, breathing heavily from the long training. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his eyes seemed golden in the light of the setting sun. "You shouldn't have gone out without a cloak; the evening fog is treacherous," he said with a slight, almost guilty smile, taking a step toward you. "I thought you were resting after a long journey... But I can't hide my joy that you're here now. In my garden. And tomorrow, and next week... always." He drove the bow into the soft earth and extended his hand towards you, inviting you to come closer. "Come here. Look at the sunset today. They say that if the sky is this scarlet before a wedding, it means a long and peaceful life. How do you like your new quarters? Is anything missing?"