***
Holbek Gartson stretched as he leant against the shaft of his pike. It had been a long day and he relished the prospect of returning to his bed in the guards’ quarters in Blackstone Castle. Duty at the front gate was always hectic, but today had been worse than normal. Lord Jerstis and his entourage had arrived for the feast and Holbek had been obliged to glance at every wagon that passed.
Despite his grumbles Holbek was proud of his post. He still carried within his chest a glimmer of the excitement he had first felt as a ten year old boy brought by his father—a cooper—to the mighty castle. He had been the envy of the other children in Eviksburg and when the chance came later to join the Baron’s guard he had leapt at the opportunity.
Holbek turned and strode under the arch of the main gate and looked up at his castle of dreams. The curtain wall hailed from the time of the Artorians and drifted around a vast bailey. To the south of the bailey were the tournament grounds and tents, dormant until the Festival of the Sun in early summer. North of this area was a collection of cottages and workshops for some of the tradesman that chose not to live within the black walls of the castle. A small chapel dwelt amongst the buildings, the setting sun glinting off the spire.
The dwindling light framed the castle in flame. Holbek could see the distinct wings of the castle even from here. The large central wing was dominated by its four round towers, one at each corner. That was the oldest part: the original Eerian fortress built atop the smaller fort of the ancient Thetorians. To the north, south and east lower structures protruded, their walls less worn and their towers square with open roofs, not turrets. These were the Artorian additions. A bastion ran from the south wing and partly down the south-eastern slope.
The far side of Garan’s Motte, the hill that the castle sat upon, was a steep drop to a small stretch of land between the base of the hill and the northern section of the curtain wall. On the north side of this wall ran the broad River Eviks, working its way from its source in the western mountains to the Bay of Thetoria in the south and east. Holbek could see why the castle had never fallen under attack, whether from goblin raiders or from squabbling barons.
A whistle broke Holbek’s flight of fancy. His companion, a new lad brought in by the latest master-at-arms, was gesturing him over. The boy was too jumpy and his eyes were too close together, a sure sign of a disreputable heritage, Mrs. Gartson always said.
Six figures were approaching the gatehouse and Holbek could discern the glint of armour and sword pommels.
“Look lively, lads. Get the crossbows loaded.”
Holbek could see that three of the figures were bound, one with manacles. They were lead roughly by a broad man in shining plate armour. By his side strode a female knight, the breeze blowing her grey hair behind her like smoke. She had two swords hung from her belt. Both knights were without helmets and wore loosened coifs around their necks like chainmail scarves. The final member of the group was a hooded man, lingering towards the rear of the party.
“In the name of Baron Enfarson, halt! State your purpose, if you wish to pass into the castle grounds,” Holbek said.
To the guard’s surprise it was the female knight who replied.
“You address Captain Orla Farvous, third lance of the Silver wing of the Knights of Air. I have journeyed with my men and our captives to this castle for an audience with Baron Enfarson.”
Holbek did his best not to gawp.
“My lady, I beg your pardon. Is the... is the baron expecting you?”
“I am sure even a Thetorian watchman would appreciate the honour we bring upon this house from distant Eeria. Expected or not, I shall anticipate the audience forthwith.”
With this declaration Lady Orla strode forth. Sir Minrik followed and dragged the prisoners with Ekra-Hurr behind him. Holbek looked in surprise and then jogged after the visitors.
“M’lady, please excuse me. Indeed such prestigious guests as you are a rarity. My watch is ended. Bestow me the privilege of walking you towards the castle on the Motte.”
Lady Orla nodded and Holbek grabbed a lantern from a brass hook and propped his pike against the stone of the arch. He led them along the pebbled road that ran from the curtain wall’s gatehouse towards the main castle on the Motte.
The unusual party progressed in silence. Holbek glanced at the dour knights, chewing his lip as he scurried by their side.
“M’lady, m’lord... I had always expected Knights of the Air to ride from the skies atop golden griffons.”
“You are to be disappointed this eve then, guard,” Sir Minrik said. “Our weary steeds are resting near the bridge east of your castle. We felt an unannounced arrival from the air may scare some of your faint hearted colleagues to loose a crossbow bolt or two.”
“M’lord, I can assure you all of the baron’s men are of the highest calibre,” Holbek said.
“None the less, it would have been a discourtesy to not present ourselves in the first instance to the outer gate,” Orla said.
Holbek nodded, his mind a whirl of protocol and etiquette. They were a touchy bunch these Eerian knights.
The group walked through the collection of cottages and small dwellings that sat either side of the road. Several children stopped their games to stare at the knights. Above them the silhouette of Blackstone Castle loomed.
“May I ask if any of you have visited the castle before?”
Holbek was surprised when the only reply came from one of the prisoners.
“I’ve been here once, mate, though it was a few years ago,” Hunor said. “No, I know, I’m older than I look! It was when I was a lad. I came here with my father and brother. I can still remember the rush of excitement as I ran up this road. I thought this must be where Mortis himself rests his head.”
Holbek smiled and said, “It fair takes your breath away, eh?”
“It does, mate, it does. Of course that was a few years back, when the baroness was still with us. I expect things have changed?”
“Sadly so,” Holbek said. “Place is full of foreigners and southerners now, no offence meant. All sorts, even some bloody Azaguntans.”
Hunor nodded with interest and caught Lady Orla’s eye as he did so. She had pricked her ears up at the mention of the Azaguntans.
“So are you local, young man? Your accent seems familiar?” Holbek asked.
Hunor wrinkled his nose and said, “No, no. Way down south, nowhere you’d have heard about. Surprised that the baron...”
Sir Minrik cuffed him with a mailed hand on the side of his head making Holbek jump.
“Cease your prattle, Hunor. It’s like having an insect trapped in my ear wax!”
Hunor glared at the broad knight and became silent. Holbek quickened the pace as they began to ascend the steeper section of road that lead to the castle’s inner gatehouse.