Stewart was training in the courtyard.

Norbier, King Malcolm and Alan were walking down the corridors of the Royal Palace. Alan admired the splendour of the fine craftsmanship and artful decorations around him. He could not quite remember if things had changed since the last time he was in the Palace. But then again, an eight-year-old boy would not have cared much about how fine the fabric of the drapes was, or how long it had taken the carpenters to carve the detail on the doors.
  ‘Norbier, where’s the rest of the family this time of day?’ the King turned to his most trusted advisor.
  ‘Let me think. The Crown Prince should be practising his swordsmanship in the courtyard. MacTavish should be instructing Duncan in magic. I’m not certain where the Queen and your daughter are, my liege,’ Norbier surmised.
  ‘We’ll head to the courtyard, then,’ the King decided.

Even before leaving the corridor, they could hear Stewart’s shouting and exertions. Stepping out into the sunlight, Alan could see his long-missed cousin. He had grown into an impressive man, easily as tall as his father. The heavy armour he wore concealed his physique, but he had to be immensely strong to move as easily in it as he did. It was no wonder the maiden swooned at Stewart’s sight, Alan thought. Stewart was testing his sword swings with a practice dummy, and the dummy looked like it would lose the confrontation. Alan knew quite a bit about swordplay, but he had never trained in knightly combat with full plate armour like his cousin. It made an impression on him.

The Crown Prince noticed that he had received some spectators and turned to them, ‘Father, what a rare honour to see you here. Shouldn’t you be holding court? Or did you want to try swinging a sword again in your old days?’ He grinned at the three new-comers.
  ‘These old bones would still wipe the floor with you!’ Malcolm laughed, ‘Maybe I should come here more often to give you instructions, because I see you still swing like a little girl!’
  ‘We haven’t had a good match in a while, father. Care to back up those words?’ he challenged the King.
  The King scoffed, ‘You’ll regret the day I take you up on that, my boy. But there are more important things to attend to,’ he turned to Alan, ‘Remember this young man here?’
  ‘Sorry? Did we drink together the other night? I can’t recall you,’ Stewart scrunched up his face, trying to remember.
  ‘I’m Alan, Stu,’ he grinned at his cousin. Stewart’s eyes went wide with realisation, there was only one boy who dared call him “Stu”.
  Stewart quickly paced towards him and clasped his hands on Alan’s shoulders, ‘Al? Is that really you?’ He drew his cousin into a friendly hug and said, ‘Damn, I missed you, mate!’
  ‘I can’t even say how much I’ve missed you—and you’ve grown quite a bit, huh?’ Alan said, noticing that his nose was only on Stewart’s chin level. ‘I remember us being the same height.’
  Stewart chuckled, ‘Didn’t eat your peas, like mum always says?’
  ‘I never really liked peas,’ Alan laughed.
  ‘Hey, at least Mother Nature didn’t hit you with the ugly-stick like she did Duncan!’ Stewart howled. Alan wasn’t sure if it was alarming or reassuring that the two brothers were still smack-talking each other.
  Alan took the hook, ‘How’s our baby boy doing?’ Duncan had always been the baby in the eyes of his siblings and cousins, being the youngest among them.
  ‘Better question would be: “Who is he doing?”,’ the Crown Prince snickered.

They reminisced for a moment longer, and Stewart looked to Alan’s hips.
  ‘Nice sword. You know how to use it?’