“Love your soldiers and they will march into the fires of the underworld for you. Your job is to bring them back.” —“Qualities of A True Commander”, by General Zarina Akrod

  Tower Castle, Cryptonia, Ground Plane

  From the armory, Titus walked with Jasper back to the outer court, then into the nearest corner bastion. They hiked up the counterclockwise spiral of the tower and Jasper had to pay close attention as he ascended, or risk stumbling on the randomly spaced steps. He recalled this type of construction was an intentional design by the builders to make an assault on the tower more difficult for the attackers. He made a comment to Titus and the knight chuckled.

  “Yes, it takes some time for new militia or staff to grow accustomed to the steps,” he said, patting the center column. “Here we are, top of the wall.”

  Titus knocked on the big oak door leading off the landing and there was a brief pause before someone slid a thick bolt back and it swung open. The pair stepped onto the wall. Behind them, the tower continued upwards at least another two levels. Jasper looked over his shoulder to see the dozen or so slits built into the structure for defenders to fire arrows. The bastion protruded like a knife’s edge from the wall, allowing those atop and inside the tower to fire back along the wall instead of trying to shoot straight down from a flat wall. It was a brilliant design and allowed for a much easier defense. He turned back to the battlement before him.

  It was about eight yards wide and had crenels on both parapets, granting protection and more arrow loops for defenders to fire down on both sides of the wall. The guard who had opened the door for them stood at attention while a handful of others stood by on the outer parapet. They were a mixture of veterans and soldiers Jasper had not met. He nodded respectfully to those he recognized as they came out. They were armed with spears, swords, and wore simple helmets that looked similar to a Norman helm from Earth, but with supplemental cheek plates resembling the Roman Galea. It provided decent protection to the head and face, but still left plenty of room to breathe, see, and communicate. Jasper had seen similar helmets down in the armory.

  “Good morrow, Lord Jasper,” said one Jasper took to be the man in charge. He was older, with a long gray mustache. “Glad to see you about and kitted out proper.”

  “As am I,” Jasper smiled.

  “That leather and studs was a pretty thing, but your mail will serve better.”

  “You saw my old armor?” The younger man cocked his head.

  “Aye, Lord. I was on the wall when, um…” He suddenly looked nervous, as if he had said too much. “That night, ser.”

  “Ah, right. No matter. What is your name?” Jasper asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

  “Sergeant Kiefer Beckland, ser.” He rested his spear on his shoulder to shake Jasper’s outstretched hand, smiling. He was missing a tooth but seemed to be quite a pleasant fellow. “I daresay I’ve been on the wall longer than Ser Titus here has worn breaches.” Jasper laughed heartily at this, and Titus joined him good-naturedly.

  “Yes, Kiefer here is one of the old hands. He oversees the left rear quarter of the wall.”

  “Used to be the Gatehouse, but we all know how that ended up,” Kiefer rolled his eyes.

  “I sense a story.” Jasper grinned. Titus shook his head.

  “Some foolish misunderstanding between a merchant and our former Captain of the Gate here. Lord Lerontis kicked him back here to appease the man. Apparently, the merchant was a close friend and delivered a great many special herbs for our departed Lord.” Jasper wrinkled his nose.

  “We’ll have none of that here,” he said firmly. “I am not against a little alcohol on occasion, but substances that cause a man or woman to lose his senses will not be tolerated. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Lord,” the guards nodded. Kiefer winked.

  “No worry of that, ser. I keep my lads sharp and on the job.”

  “Very good. Carry on, Sergeant.” Kiefer saluted, and they stood to their posts as the other two moved along the wall.

  From their vantage, they could now see three of the bridges linking the Keep wall to the outer wall. Jasper walked beside Titus as the knight pointed out various features. There were several small wooden elevators that would serve to raise supplies and even soldiers onto the wall from the baily below. Like the bridges, the lifts could be easily disabled to prevent an enemy using them to access the upper levels. As they reached the next bastion, Jasper paid closer attention to the inventory readily available to the troops on the walls. The majority of the arms themselves were decent, but he saw a great deal of wear on boots, belts, scabbards, and shields. The arrows tied in bundles inside the towers were in good condition, but many of the bows were barely serviceable.

  “Do we have a bowyer?” he asked Titus.

  “We had,” the knight lamented. “A masterful dwarf craftsman from the forest to the east. He fell sick some time ago and his heart gave out a scant month before you arrived, Lord.”

  “And the issue was never addressed,” Jasper nodded. “Another thing to add to the list.” Titus tried to look upbeat.

  “Calian and Miss Fern both assure me that when word of your arrival and erm, unique manner of rule spreads, there will be workers and recruits aplenty.”

  “We can certainly hope so.” They continued along the wall and encountered more guards who came to attention or saluted as they passed. After two more bastions, they finally came to the left gate house tower in front of the Keep. Inside were the hardened workings of the portcullis, gate doors, and many counter-offensive capabilities.

  A dozen or so small murder holes, oil chutes, and arrow loops allowed defenders to retaliate against any assault on the gate itself. Meanwhile, other slots positioned at outward-facing trajectories would be well-placed to prevent or slow other attackers from gaining access to the base of the wall and gate. Titus showed Jasper the key points of defense and the remarkably simple gate apparatus. The heavy portcullis was magai-assisted and would rise at the pull of a large rune-carved lever. The handful of guards stationed in the gatehouse were more veterans. They were playing dice when the pair entered. Of the group, Jasper recognized the woman, Aesil, and one whose name he could not remember.

  “Vek, my Lord,” the man saluted smartly. He was tan and clean shaven with a confident smile. Jasper shook his hand. “We met earlier this morning, but I’ve a forgettable face.” He smiled easily and gestured to the dice on the table. “Do you play, ser?”

  “I’ve been known to play,” he said, remembering many past tabletop games on Earth. “But, I think the game I’m used to is very different from yours.”

  “Don’t take him up on it, Lord,” Aesil laughed. “He’ll take every copper you have.”

  “Aww, Aesil, I’m not a shark,” Vek protested, rolling his eyes. “And it isn’t as if we’re playing for Oaks.”

  “As long as it does not interfere with your watch and the Tower remains secure, I don’t mind a little recreation.” Jasper smiled. “Security is the paramount concern, but I have confidence in your abilities. Titus has spoken very highly of the veterans here.” The pair’s chests swelled, and they stood a little taller. “Just keep an eye out.” He winked.

  “Thank you, ser.” Vek and Aesil saluted again and Jasper departed with his knight. The gathered soldiers grinned and went back to their game, turning the table toward the nearby window to look out over the hills beyond. Jasper and Titus descended the gatehouse stair to come out beside the gate. They turned right towards a large well, a riding corral, and the stables behind.

  “I had meant to ask about our horses. I smell and hear them frequently, but I hadn’t seen them,” Jasper chuckled.

  There were two rows of stalls facing one another. A handful were empty, but most were inhabited. Two groomsmen were mucking out one stall. A few horses poked their heads over their doors to investigate the newcomers. Jasper approached one, a beautiful bay with a white blaze on her face. Her nostrils flared when he offered his hand and her warm breath puffed over his skin when she scented him.

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  “We have a decent selection of mounts, though Lord Lerontis’ favorites were misused,” Titus grimaced. “He preferred the whip and spur over a gentle nudge.”

  “I’m not surprised, but I am disappointed,” Jasper growled. “Abusing a creature just because you can is detestable. I don’t suppose—”

  “Ser Titus!” A voice called from down the straw lane. It was squeaky and full of excitement as the figure scurried closer. “I’m so glad you’re here, ser!” The individual drew to a halt and Jasper’s eyebrows rose in surprise. It was a boy of about fourteen. His cheeks were flushed and his little muscular chest heaved. What really caught Jasper’s attention was his lower body. Instead of human legs, he had the lower half of a goat.

  “A satyr.” His tone was flat, more confused than anything. “In the stables?”

  “Is this—?” The young halfbreed’s eyes darted from Jasper to Titus and back again before they widened. “Oh! My Lord Jasper!” He bowed several times in quick succession, showing off his short curly horns that just poked through his dirty blonde hair. When he stood straight again, he looked a bit dizzy and wobbled on his cloven hooves. “Oof.”

  “Yuli,” Titus laughed. “Take it easy, my friend.”

  “I am well, ser,” Yuli protested, quickly regaining his balance. “It’s such an honor to meet you, Lord. We have been blessed with a righteous governor again, so we hope.”

  “Your praise is most appreciated,” Jasper smiled kindly, inclining his own head. “I will do my best to live up to it.”

  “I am sure you will do, Lord,” Yuli grinned broadly. Titus coughed into his hand.

  “You had some urgency?”

  “Oh, yes!” His bright eyes flashed. “Lord Lerontis’ favorite mount, he’s hobbling again. I’ve cleaned and bound the cuts on his legs, but unless we treat the rot and fester in his right forehoof…” Yuli’s voice trailed off. “I do not know if I can save him. Certainly not restore him as he was without some special help.”

  “Damn,” Titus shook his head. “May we see him?” Yuli nodded.

  “This way.” The diminutive satyr trotted ahead of them towards a stall near the end. His cloven hooves clopped on the cobblestone as he ran. The plaque on the stall door read ‘Fleetfoot’. Inside was a large blue roan stallion bridled and tied to a ring in the wall. He was clearly lame, favoring his front right hoof as he gingerly shifted his weight.

  “Oh, you poor beauty,” Jasper whispered. He recalled many recreational events on Earth where he was able to work with mounted knights or simple trail riding with friends. It tore at his heart to see such an amazing animal hurt. “Is he safe to handle?”

  “Safe enough, Lord, but I would be cautious,” Yuli warned. “Pain like that can turn even the gentlest creature mean.”

  “Of course.” Jasper approached Fleetfoot from the side where he could be seen and gently extended a hand. The stallion’s ears twitched in his direction and his left eye watched intently. His tail swished with unease. “Easy boy,” said Jasper quietly. “We’re here to help.” Fleetfoot grumbled and shifted as Jasper drew near to the horse’s head. When Jasper waited and allowed him to make the first move, the beast finally nuzzled Jasper’s outstretched hand and chuffed at his fingers.

  “That’s it, big man.” He smiled and gently stroked Fleetfoot’s cheek. His ears quivered, pointing straight forward at Jasper. “You going to let me take a look at that leg?” Fleetfoot huffed and stretched his neck, eyes and ears following Jasper. “I hope that’s a ‘yes’.” He rubbed the horse more before slowly ducking under his neck to reach his right side. Jasper patted and stroked his shoulder before bending and asking for the hoof, finding the special button on his ankle. Fleetfoot complied a bit jerkily, and Jasper handled the limb gently. The frog of the hoof looked inflamed and Jasper could see blood dribbling from a swollen spot.

  “Damn,” he shook his head. “He’s got a stone or caught a loose nail.”

  “That is what I thought too,” Yuli nodded, appearing at his shoulder and petting the big animal. “I considered asking Mistress Fern for help. I can remove the stone simple enough, but I’m worried about the chance of infection, and handling him alone...” The satyr scratched his curly head. “He’s a big beast.”

  “Of course,” said Jasper. “I’d be nervous to work on him alone too. If anything, I’m sure she can keep him calm while we work on him. Titus?”

  “I’ll send someone for her.” He raised a hand and a human stable boy hurried over before rushing off with his message. In a few minutes, Fern arrived with a small apothecary bag.

  “Good day, sers.” She smiled. “I understand Fleetfoot has some trouble?” Jasper showed her the cuts on the horse’s sides from spurs and lash as well as the hoof. “This is definitely the worst of it,” she said, examining the horse’s leg. “I will prepare some herbs to calm him and to help purify his blood. The hoof is already infected and must be thoroughly cleaned once the object is removed.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Yuli nodded.

  “How can I help?” Jasper asked as Fern went to work mixing a green paste in a small pestle. “I feel a bit superfluous.”

  “Well, if you’d like, talking to him and giving him a rub down would relax him,” Yuli said, straightening. He clopped over to a shelf in the stall to grab a brush. “I was going to get Aethel, but she does have other duties, and since you’re willing, Lord.” He offered it.

  “I’ve always loved horses,” Jasper took it with a smile. “And I can’t stand seeing a creature in pain like this.”

  Fern gave the medicine to the stallion, and he swallowed it with a little encouragement. The elf spoke quietly to the stallion in her own tongue and Jasper saw tiny motes of light flow from Fern into the horse. Her magic permeated his body and shifted down to focus on his injured hoof. Jasper assisted Titus in moving a cradle stump with a strap to hold Fleetfoot’s leg steady while the satyr sharpened his hoof knife. When he was ready, Yuli donned his apron and used a small brush and cloth to gently clean the debris from the hoof. Fern stood by pouring warm water over the sole to wash away any loose dirt or mud. When that was finished, Yuli used sharp pliers and a hammer to straighten and remove the nails and shoe before going to work with the curved knife. He expertly whittled away the worn edges, carefully prodding at the frog of the hoof to test for tenderness. When the stallion whinnied in pain and tried to pull away, Jasper caught his lead and shushed him, petting his neck.

  “Whoa now, easy,” he said. “It’s alright. We’re gonna fix you up right.” He moved down the horse’s side, slowly running the brush over his back and ribs. Fleetfoot shivered, and his coat shuddered. His ears followed the lord as he spoke quietly to him. Fern was watching closely over Yuli’s shoulder and she pointed.

  “There it is.”

  “Ahh, I see you,” the satyr said in satisfaction. “You had the right of it, Lord. A nail, barely a finger shy of the frog. Probably why he lasted as long as he did—poor fellow. If it had been a bit to the center, he might have taken a fall.”

  “We should clean around it to be sure there is no other damage before removing it,” suggested the elf. “When that comes out, it’ll be a mess.”

  “Mm, I thought as much.” Yuli worked slowly and diligently cleared away old hoof material until only the nail and infected area were left. “He’s going to jerk and fight when I pull, Lord.”

  “I’ll be careful. I’ve got his head. Titus, stand by us just in case.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Here we go then.” Yuli gripped the offending nail with his pliers before pulling slowly and firmly. Sure enough, Fleetfoot was not excited to have the satyr plucking the tiny iron spike from his tender flesh. He squealed in pain and indignation as only a horse could, arching his neck and trying to pull away. Hobbled as he was, Fleetfoot was going nowhere, but that did not stop the noble horse from making his frustration known. “Got it!” Yuli exclaimed in triumph.

  There was a metallic ping when he dropped the rusty nail in a pan. Jasper tried his best to calm the stallion with gentle hands and a soft voice while the satyr and elf continued to tend his wound. They drained what pus was left and thoroughly washed the hoof with alcohol—which caused more disgruntled fidgeting from the horse. At last, they applied a salve to the wound and packed it with gauze, then wrapped it in fabric dipped in some kind of plaster that hardened quickly once in place.

  “What is that?” Jasper asked, curious.

  “Something I developed a few years ago,” said Fern. “A mixture that hardens and allows a patient to continue to move but isolates the injury.”

  “You made a cast?” Jasper was incredulous as Fern contemplated the word.

  “I suppose that is an accurate term.” The human laughed and shook his head.

  “There is something eerily similar from my world that serves a similar purpose,” he explained. “It just astounds me how alike our worlds can be sometimes.” He patted Fleetfoot’s neck and gave him a big carrot he had saved as a treat. “How long do you think his recovery will be?”

  “Hmm, hard to say.” Yuli was looking over the other scratches and cuts on the beautiful horse. “These will heal with time, but the spur gouges will take longer, and he will be tender.”

  “We will do what we can,” Fern said confidently.

  “Are there others like this?” Jasper stepped back into the aisle to look down the row of stalls.

  “Some rough handling, but Fleetfoot is the only one with serious injuries,” said Yuli, patting the horse’s side.

  “Well done, Yuli,” Jasper said, instinctively rubbing the lad’s head between his little horns. The satyr blushed and would not meet the Lord’s eyes.

  “Thank you, ser. And Mistress Fern for your help.” He bowed his head respectfully and collected his tools. “Um, I have more duties to attend to, but I’ll be back in an hour or so to check on him.” He trotted out of the stall and dropped a pair of pliers. He scooped them up, turning even redder before disappearing down the lane. The remaining three could hear his little hooves clopping on the stones and shared a quiet laugh.

  “He’s a good lad,” said Titus. “Poor boy was chased out of the satyrs’ land a few years ago by some rogue goblins and he sought sanctuary here. He practically lives in the stables, but he says he’s comfortable. He likes tending the horses.”

  “And he is probably one of the gentlest souls in the castle,” Fern added.

  “Whatever that boy needs, he gets,” said Jasper. He felt a kinship with the satyr. His desire to please and a need to belong plucked a string deep inside his chest. “Pay, a room, whatever. I don’t care if it puts a dent in our budget.”

  “It will be done.” Titus nodded. Jasper continued to look after the boy before Fleetfoot snorted and brought his focus back to the stall. He patted the horse one last time.

  “Was there anything else I needed to see outside?”

  “Let’s see. Oh!” The knight clapped a hand to his forehead. “Of course, the smithy. And you’ll want to meet Idein as well, I’m sure. His workshop is near the forge.”

  “Yes I do, that sounds like a good next stop.” He thought about the spectacular stonework inside and around the Tower and he smiled. “I can’t wait.”

  “We’ll go around back past the salle to make the trip shorter,” said Titus, gesturing to the nearest exit. Fern bowed and said she had to return to the Keep. Evidently, one of the staff had a cold that was not clearing up. Jasper waved as they went their separate ways.