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  “Well well Magistrate Millerson and what, may I enquire, are you doing here?”

  “Well, you see, Captain Skarsdale....”

  “Actually, it’s Commander Skarsdale” Torr maintained, even though he knew it had not been endorsed yet.

  “No it’s not you moron, you got a cavalry commission, so your starting rank is captain”. There was a pause. “Wait, you haven’t been introducing yourself as Commander have you?” Raeknor finished the sentence with a laugh. “No” lied Torr defensively.

  Raeknor’s laughter got louder as he continued. “Oh... that’s priceless! Commander is generally a naval rank, or a garrison officer’s rank”.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, I’ve just introduced myself as Commander Skarsdale to the sodding garrison sergeant!”

  Torr had lost their verbal contest almost instantly as Raeknor was now laughing so hard he was incapable of entering into further conversation, leaning against the mule cart that he had dejectedly been loading just moments before.

  Torr half hoped the two young men who were helping Raeknor load the wagon, would come back out, forcing Raeknor to adopt a suitable posture in front of ‘Captain’ Skarsdale. Torr suspected that the two individuals would remain buried in the store room until the situation had blown over. In fact, if they could hear Raeknor laughing now, and surely they could, they probably wanted to stay there until Raeknor had seemingly come to his senses.

  Raeknor’s laughing subsided anyway, if only to wipe away the tears from his eyes.

  “No but, seriously, what are you doing here?” Torr said to Raeknor, before he could display any more ignorance about a topic that, by rights, he should know more about than his friend.

  “Holy Balls, you don’t think I’d let you do this on your own would you?” said Raeknor. “Gods’ you can’t even get your rank right”. Raeknor started to laugh again. “By the time, we got to the gaestnip camp, you’d introduce yourself as Marshall, probably”.

  “What, seriously, you’re coming along?” said Torr, in a genuinely alarmed voice, now ignoring his friend’s continued mirth. “The only place you could find for your own sword was up your backside wasn’t it?” This was a bit of a late and low blow by their standards but Torr was still trying to genuinely work out what Raeknor was doing here.

  “Ohh...dear, I needed that”. said Raeknor, recovering from his last bout of laughter. “Yes..I’m coming along”. Raeknor was calming down now but still wiping his eyes free from tears. “Cuhlaed thought the plan sounded good so he’s lent five men from his militia, who I am in charge of. Why, how many are you in charge of?”

  “Dunno yet, depends on how many horsemen are available across the volunteers”, said Torr, matter of factly now. He would have to wait for another opportunity to find a chink in Raeknor’s verbal armour. “So, really, you’re here to fight?” The question was still genuine. “Yeess...” responded Raeknor fixing his friend now with a stare to emphasis his point. “We’ve sort of been folded into the other merchant’s volunteer force, so, in total, I believe there are about forty of us”. Torr wasn’t sure where Raeknor had drawn this figure from. “What...forty what, men in total?” Torr was starting to sound perplexed.

  “No...oh for fuck’s sake you cretin, Garel and the other two sold the plan so well...what were their names...Bernhart and Ahred.....that the other merchants coughed up another thirty five men between them. So...with our five from the magistrates, that’s forty. Gods’, hope I’m not in your command, you don’t know what your rank is or how many men there are”.

  Torr really was at a distinct disadvantage now. He recalled that, with the number Garel had calculated, they would need another forty in total, but with Raeknor’s information, they already had this number even before Torr and his men from Home Manor had been taken into consideration, another ten.

  “So we’ve got enough?” said Torr.

  “And that’s not all” continued Raeknor. “Rumour is Bereofs Town have reconsidered and may lend their weight to the fight as well”. Torr had no idea how Raeknor knew more about this thing than he did, but it quickly dawned on him that he may actually have been privy to more post meeting discussions than Torr anyway. Torr was still trying to take in the fact that Raeknor was here. “The last time I saw you, you were lying unconscious on my porch...wait...it’s probably all your fault I’m here isn’t it?”

  Both realised that a continued lengthy discussion would prove difficult, given that Raeknor was supposed to be loading the grain wagon and Torr said he was on his way to report to Commander Garel.

  They both agreed there would undoubtedly be time to catch up at length, given that both knew they would probably be in training for at least a few days here before they set off for the assault.

  It was difficult for Torr to say goodbye in the end as he wanted to see what else his friend knew. By the time Torr reached Commander Garel, he was bursting with questions.

  “There will be an officers’ briefing this evening when all the units have arrived Captain Skarsdale”. The first thing Garel had done was to accept Torr’s scroll of commission and to confirm his rank of captain and command of the cavalry unit charged with destroying the brigand camp to the south. Garel’s command room had a large map on the wall. Torr had to resist the urge to ignore Garel and study it in depth. The map took up a wall and a half as Garel’s room was not that large, not at all in keeping with the size of the castle.

  Still, it was naturally very well appointed with a solid oak desk, full of scrolls scattered over yet another map, but only three chairs, suggesting any meetings held in here were confidential affairs.

  “I suggest you reacquaint yourself with our little outpost here whilst we await the rest of your command”. Garel continued. “We have been quite fortunate in that the merchants at our recent meeting seemed confident enough on our little plan to cough up more men than we had actually asked for so, if they are good to their word, your cavalry command should number about thirteen, plus yourself and your sergeant”.

  “That’s very good sir” said Torr, a little surprised. He had anticipated (having had plenty of time to think about it over the last couple of days) that he may end up in charge of maybe half that number. Perhaps picking up on Torr’s pleasantly surprised tone though, Garel continued. “However your unit more than most will be drawn from different households so your training over the next week may have to be more vigorous than others. I don’t need to remind you that cavalry can often be one of the most over-worked units on a battlefield so they need to be fit and well led, Captain Skarsdale. But don’t worry, we will have more experienced officers and men to draw on I believe”. Garel gave Torr a firm pat on the shoulder before he was dismissed.

  Garel’s comments gave Torr plenty more to think about until the evening’s briefing. He returned to the outer bailey to find his men in drill practice. They were looking a little ragged against the men of Garel’s garrison who were of course professional soldiers, plus the long march they had undertaken first thing in the morning. Sergeant Bourne showed Torr his billet, which was actually back in the third bailey, closest to the keep. Torr could not see Raeknor or the mule cart as he retraced his steps back towards his new quarters. It looked like Raeknor may have been on a supply run and had probably gone back to Paega, or possibly his own family’s mills, for more grain or flour. Torr thought that was probably the safest thing for Raeknor to do. He really did not want to be worrying about his friend in the heat of battle as well.

  Torr struck up some brief conversation with Sergeant Bourne on the way, establishing that his men would get their break soon anyway and that they would soon get into the training regime here.

  Torr saw the stables as they walked through the baileys and that their horses had been settled and were being tended to by the stable hands. Caenet was not in sight but Torr gleaned from Sergeant Bourne that Caenet would be billeted in the sergeant’s mess. The men’s barracks would be in the outer bailey. “I have served with Sergeant Caenet before. A
good man sir, he will see you right”.

  “Thank you Sergeant, I have no doubt of that. Where did you serve with him may I ask?” enquired Torr. “In the hills to the north sir, near Eastrek. Not a warm place sir I can assure you”. Sergeant Bourne didn’t seem to be willing to expand on the subject so Torr let it lie. No point annoying the garrison sergeant on your first day, he thought, at least, any more than I have probably done already.

  ************************************

  Torr was shown his billet, which was a medium sized bunk house. It was a galley room as it was set in the outer wall but it was on the first floor, so there was access to the battlements, which Torr had never been given cause to use or walk when he had been here previously. He thought he would settle himself in and go take a look.

  He realised that he must be one of the first group of men to arrive. The troops from Tantes would take longer to get here. It seemed to Torr that they would have to spend more time than anyone travelling if they were then going to march back south a week later, well to the south of Tantes anyway. In fact, as Torr sized up which bunk he wanted, he thought about the garrison from Oaks Keep that had been promised. That was several days travel just one way so what was the point. Surely better to meet them on the march down.

  As Torr eyed the storage chest at the bottom of the bunk he had chosen and started to put what stuff he was carrying in there, he felt he was being watched. As he had entered the dimly lit room in the first place, he thought he was alone.

  He turned round and saw a man lying on a bunk a bit further towards the back of the room. The man seemed content to continue lounging, just staring at Torr. He did not recognise the man and he didn’t seem to fit in somehow being in the officer’s mess. The more Torr stared back he realised that this man must be from The Dog Pack. He had a tanned complexion and dark leather armour which had perhaps helped keep him hidden from Torr in the first place when he entered the room. There was a short sword at the bottom of the man’s bunk.

  Torr finished putting his equipment in the chest at the bottom of his bunk and walked towards the man, who just remained where he was, smoking some form of pipe now.

  “Ah..hello... you’re from The Dog Pack yes....?” enquired Torr. The man moved slightly at being addressed but did not actually get up to introduce himself. “Sharak”, responded the man. “Sorry?” said Torr. The man looked a little frustrated. “Ah...Sharak el qeubel goren”. The man, looked intently at Torr to see if he understood.

  “Oh you’re joking, you don’t speak Weald do you”. The man predictably looked blankly at Torr. “Well, I don`t speak a word of Suthrasian but here goes then”. Torr pointed to his insignia on his armour. “I’m Captain Torr Skarsdale from Paega...look”. He pointed to the ship on his armour vainly hoping that would help.

  “Peegaa?” said the man. Oh what the hell, thought Torr, “Yes, Peegaa”.

  “Oh,” the man pointed to his own armour which Torr now saw did indeed have the war dog embossed on it. “Dagel Sharak,” he said proudly but then he pointed to himself so Torr now wasn’t sure if that was his name, rank or if, frankly, he was asking Torr for a dance!

  “OK then Dagel Sharak”, Torr thought he could not go far wrong with that response. Given the monumental mistakes he had already made this morning, he was already past caring. “I’m going for a wander”.

  Torr marvelled at the view from the battlements on the west side of Valheimers garrison, looking down towards Paega and right along the coast. It was a good clear day but with a greater breeze this far up. He could see the Daret quite clearly as well and fancied he could see Home Manor too. He waved to no one in particular as the only guards he could see were just the two on the front battlement that he had seen when entering the castle earlier this morning. It really did feel empty, almost ghostly. The castle was designed to be large enough to keep, train and feed maybe a thousand men and associated animals, and he’d been told they had been holding it with a little more than twenty. By the time they emptied it out for the forthcoming raid he thought any of the staff left behind, such as stable hands and smiths, would feel as if they had been abandoned by the world.

  As he was on the west side, the view to the north, up to Daretmoor was blocked by the keep behind him and he could not see across the east wall on the far side down to the Valheimers actual residence, known as Valheimers Court. He hoped there might be some function there over the next week. The only time he had been there was on the last day of his schooling where Lord Valheimer of Paega himself, Garel’s and Efaen’s older brother had addressed the class, albeit in rather disinterested and boring rhetoric about how it was their duty to secure Paegas legacy for generations to come. More like so we can keep you in the manner to which your fat arse is accustomed, thought Torr.

  Valheimer’s Court was an opulent affair, supposedly as grand as their cousin’s palace, the Weald Lord of Sommerswake himself, over near Moorsmeet, which was actually the capital of Sommerswake. Moorsmeet was not any larger, and certainly no more important, than the two other large towns of Sommerswake; Paega and Tantes. Still, Moorsmeet had been the traditional home of the Valheimers and the capital of Sommerswake since its founding.

  Torr was quite happy to continue taking in the view. After all, how often would he get the opportunity. In fact, if everything went wrong, this could be the last decent view he had!

  Torr was half joking with himself, he realised, just to try and put his nerves and fear in their place.

  As he continued with his contemplation, he saw dust tracks, still some distance from the castle, but definitely heading their way. He moved further along the battlement to the south, where the main entrance was. It was a short column of men with two caravans. As it drew closer, he could see the caravans were well kept and had a banner on the back, fluttering spasmodically in the slight breeze. The banner was of a caravan, the symbol of Tantes. Riding on horseback at the front was a young man who Torr thought he recognised as they drew closer. By now Torr was at the most southern part of the battlements that he could get to. The castle was obviously designed so that it was not possible to access the entire upper walls from any one point, so he would have to find another way down to greet the new arrivals.

  From his current vantage point though, he was now overlooking the outer bailey and the training ground. He saw his own men were now leaving and heading to a building that he thought must be their billet. Six groundsmen had come to move their own battered caravan from just next to the entrance and appeared to be looking with some intrigue at the billhooks which were still in the back, just as the new arrivals from Tantes entered under the portcullis and archway.

  Their officer’s name was Carodin Culos. A fellow graduate with Torr and Raeknor, Carodin’s family were one of the larger merchant families in Tantes and, like Torr and Raeknor, no relation to the Valheimers. As such, the three of them got on well as Carodin had a similar sense of humour, albeit one that perhaps was not as cutting as Torr and Raeknor. Carodin, was, however, an excellent swordsman. In fact, Torr recalled, Carodin was always one for trying to use two shorter swords, rather than long sword and shield as was customary in the wealds. Come to think of it, Torr thought, as he now made his way back up the battlements so he could find a staircase down to greet the new arrival, it had something to do with Carodin’s Suthrasian heritage. His grandfather had been one of Sha Haram’s premier merchants but upped sticks to Tantes, where he married into a merchant family there.

  He can probably help us translate with our new doggy friends, Torr thought, as he found his way back down a different staircase, coming out close to the outer bailey. It was not where he thought the staircase led, as a mark of the castle’s design to throw off any would be attackers.

  Torr made his way into the outer bailey just as Carodin was organising himself and his men, as Torr had done earlier.

  He watched casually as the twenty men from Tantes were again greeted by Sergeant Bourne. However, Carodin had the good sense to move his caravan
out of the way. Carodin’s sergeant seemed capable and well drilled, which appeared to help.

  Torr noted that four of Carodin’s men were on horseback, suggesting these men would be seconded to Torr’s cavalry unit. The horse seemed heavy and even kitted out with some light armour.

  Torr waited for Carodin to address his own men before he approached the second bailey entrance. Torr leant against the gatehouse wall, waiting to see how close Carodin got before the slightly taller and broad shouldered young Tantes man saw him. Torr figured that Carodin would be on his way to see Garel as well, to hand in his commission scroll. It seemed unlikely that Carodin had somehow seen action before all this.

  Carodin duly noticed Torr from a reasonably observant distance but still stopped dead in his tracks. “As I live and breathe, Torr Skarsdale” said Carodin with some excitement. “I’d heard the cavalry officer might be some young pup from Paega’s Bay and wondered if it might be you”.

  “The very same”, responded Torr, half bowing in acknowledgement. “On your way to see Garel to relieve you of your commission scroll?” he enquired.

  “Yes I am. Have you had yours?”

  “Indeed”.

  “So.... if you are cavalry, then that makes you captain right?” Well that’s typical, thought Torr, everyone but me remembered what rank everyone should be.

  “Correct again, infantry for you?”

  “Yes”, responded Carodin. “Which will make me a lieutenant. So, anyone else here we know yet and what do you know about this little venture?” Carodin enquired.

  Torr agreed to walk back towards the keep with Carodin to fill him in on what he knew and then wait for him, whilst he met Garel, so he could then show him the officer’s billet. “Actually, what’s your Suthrasian like? Only one of the officers, well I guess he’s an officer sort of, from The Dog Pack, was in there but he doesn’t speak a word of Weald” said Torr to Carodin.