Unlike Cyril's sister, Hakkiem and the rest of the nobility had free range. Leaving the grounds was another thing entirely, which made the concern all the more important. Skipping up behind his liege he tousled that black hair while pushing the man's head forward before settling beside him on the oyster shell path. "Too quiet, too quiet!"
His hair was a bold shade of gold, glinting in the sun. He was tall with broad shoulders set on a lanky pole of a body. He stretched, sweat still fresh on a slightly red face. He had run here from fencing practice from the look of his garb, half princely red and half ugly beige and stained, padding, almost like he couldn't wait to get out of there. He was far more interested in another sort of combat, something sneaky and more personal in his opinion. The only thing cool about fencing... was the wobbly flexibility of the rapiers, like design-failed slingshots. "What's up, you skipped out again, man..."