Outside of Bors Lothian's chambers, Owain leaned against the smooth stone wall, resting one hand on the hilt of his sword while the other fidgeted with the heavy signet ring on his index finger. Years of wear had dulled the finish on the once lustrous gold ring, but the stone signet was still as crisp and sharp as the day he'd received it from his father more than ten years ago.
"One day, you'll bear the Lothian Coat of arms as the next Marquis," his father said when he asked Owain to select his personal sigil. "But before you are a lord, you are a man and a knight. The sigil you select is the one you will be known by, whether you fight in tournaments or on the field of battle against demons."
"Even after you become Marquis Lothian," Bors said sagely. "It will still be the symbol you use when you speak with your own voice and not on behalf of your people. So, what have you chosen?"
