“How is your shoulder?” Garreth stood before his squire. He was dressed in his armor again, only the helmet was absent. The squire grimaced.

“Sore,” he replied. “But I will still fight today.”

Garreth said nothing but nodded to acknowledge the squire’s commitment. The truth was there wasn’t another option. If one could swing a sword and walk on two legs they were going to be a part of the battle today. In the briefing the night before, Garreth learned that more undead abominations were coming from the east. One of the mounted units told them of the approach early that morning.

“We’ll be riding today,” Garreth said. “Do you have a horse?”

“Yes,” the squire answered. “A farm mare, taken from my grandfather.”

“Good,” Garreth replied. “Saddle it and meet me at the front castle gates.”

The squire nodded and turned to fulfill Garreth’s request. Garreth shouted out before he left.

“What is your name?” Garreth asked.

“Mathias!” the squire said.

Garreth waved his arm and watched as the squire ran toward the stables. He didn’t make a habit out of learning the names of his squires. They changed often. Especially when the castle was under siege. The very situation had only happened once before when Garreth was a young knight. Northmen attacked. Garreth remembered the tribal armor they wore, adorned with fur and animal bones. They were vicious fighters but did not have the numbers to take the castle. Regardless, they attacked every day for eight days straight. This siege was different. Back then even though they were under attack, there was still hope. Garreth did not sense that same hint of earnest optimism in their present situation. The plague the undead ghouls brought seemed to stifle any hope. Even if one survived an attack, the threat of sickness meant one was never truly safe.

Garreth grimaced as a death cart rattled across the worn stone that made up the courtyard. It was already stacked over the sides with corpses. They were relatively fresh, but one looking at them wouldn’t know. Pale bloated faces with empty eyes looked to the sky in the positions they had been stacked onto the cart. More men were brought out from the quarters and medical tents and added to the pile. The cart driver waved them away crushingly soon. His cart was full and the horse that pulled it could not take any more.

Garreth walked to the stable building where his horse was kept. This barn was finished with chiseled stone. Inside, attendants were running wildly around, doing their best to saddle horses quickly. Many knights were riding out today and many of the horses were outfitted with armor, which accounted for the undead threat.

Garreth heard the sound of hooves on the cobblestones behind him. Mathias returned. He was there with the farm mare. It was not a proud beast. It stood there humpbacked, in a peculiar stance, unlike the knight horses that stood with their feet approximately shoulder length apart; a perfect stance for parade rest. It was Palomino, its dull blonde coat moved lightly in the wind, still holding on to its winter tufts. The mane was plain and unadorned. The white hair hung loosely off the sides of the creature’s neck. Mathias’s saddle was the standard issue for soldiers. Simple leather, but quality. It would hold up if taken care of. Mathias sat upright in the saddle. He had a fresh tunic on, the lack of blood betrayed that. This time a simple leather helmet was on his head. It was brown with copper rivets that went along the side above his eyes. There was a small nasal guard that came down just above the end of his nose. Simple breeches gave way to leather boots, which sat in the stirrups that hung just above the bottom of the horse’s belly. There was something else different about the farm mare that Garreth picked up on. It was its relationship with Mathias. The way he spoke to the animal was gentle. Knights had good relationships with their steeds, Garreth had been with his horse for five years now, and he cared for the creature, but the bond displayed by Mathias and the humpbacked mare was something unobtainable in comparison.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Garreth felt a tap on the shoulder and turned to see one of the stable hands handing him a pair of reins. His horse stood tacked and ready for battle. Barding covered its back and continued in a criniere that covered small pieces of the neck. Its head was bare. Garreth did not care for a chanfron on his animals. He preferred to ride with speed, and that meant as little armor as possible. Though the armor did well protecting against individual blows. A heavy horse was a horse that could be swarmed, and the undead beasts could find chinks in the armor with their nails and teeth.

“Follow me,” Garreth said. “We won’t be fighting with the main group today.”

The squire gave him a curious look but slowly rode behind Garreth, who was now mounted in his saddle, reins in hand.

“Sir Garreth, a word?” A messenger approached the duo.

He wore a simple tunic, much like Mathias. The grinning sun rested not only on his chest, but also at the top of his sleeves. It was frowned upon to kill a messenger and the sleeves helped verify their identities on the battlefield.

Garreth eyed the satchel that lay across the messenger’s shoulder. The crinkled leather was faded, bearing the marks of the elements. In between the metal clasps on the front was the same symbol that was on the messenger’s tunic and Garreth’s armor. This one was made of gold. A sign that this messenger was not from Berthram or another lord. He was from King Caelum himself.

“Wait for me here, Mathias,” Garreth said.

“I have been instructed to include your squire as well,” the messenger interrupted.

Mathias gave Garreth a perplexed look. Garreth answered Mathias’s expression with a shrug and they dismounted. The pair followed the messenger back to the main castle gate and entered through the great hall.

The hall was empty. A stark contrast to the state it was usually in. Several castle guards could be seen standing against the interior walls on duty, but it was otherwise deserted. Gone were the days of children, sons and daughters of the upper nobility, chasing each other around. There were no visiting dignitaries or ambassadors. Those within the castle kept to themselves. It was a time of siege and the gloom that settled in reflected it.

The smell of lard and fresh baked bread wafted through the air from a set of stone stairs on the left side of the hall that lead downward into darkness. The kitchens were at work, desperately trying to stretch their food stores out enough to feed all of the soldiers outside as well as the castle’s inhabitants. The group continued through the great hall and into a large vestibule which branched out in a few different directions.

As they traveled deeper into the castle their surroundings became warmer. Stone gave way to carpet and the rocky walls slowly turned to wood. Paintings and manuscripts hung from them with purpose. Scenes of rulers and battles past sat square in their frames. Everything gradually started to look lavish. Superior craftsmanship showed itself in the furniture. The telltale marks of craftmasters apparent in the backs of chairs and the ends of tables. Serving platters went from wood to silver. Garreth noticed Mathias’s expression. He was visibly awed.

Finally they came to a thin staircase. They ascended single file, one at a time. The messenger led, Garreth was next, and Mathias brought up the rear. Upon reaching the top they found themselves in a room that was much more simple than the ones they passed in before. It was mostly barren. A single pane of glass showed a view of the castle courtyard below them. Garreth could see the medical tents from his vantage point in the spire. The soldiers below looked small, slightly bigger than ants. Garreth’s attention was taken away from the window by a a large table about 6 feet wide that stood in the center of the room. On it rested a large map and small lead models of groups of soldiers, castles, and forts. This was the war room.