“What are we doing here?” I ask my grandfather as I trail after him while we manoeuvre around the meadow at the back of the castle, he’s dressed casually in a black, cotton shirt with a v-neckline showing off his broad chest and fitted cotton pants and leather boots.
He reminds me of those dashing prince’s in period movies where their causal is simply putting on a loose shirt, tight pants, and having their hair tousled whenever they run their hands through it.
But rather than allow me to dress as freely as he is, I on the other hand was forced to wear a knee-length dress with so many layers beneath and a tight stretching pants beneath for modesty sake.
The dress has a turtleneck and no sleeves so at least I’m allowed that freedom. When he barged into my room this morning and ordered
