Klomph klomph klomph

The sound of hundreds of hooves wasn't quite deafening, but it certainly was loud. Add that together with the whinnying of the horses and the much quieter voices of the men trying to calm them and you had a dull roar of noise in the giant barn that served as a home for fifty eight horses. Not just any horses mind you, normal horses wouldn't require or warrant an inspection from the General West himself. No these horses were special, when they grew to full size in about a year or two they would be slightly smaller than average warhorse, but they had much more endurance and speed. They were a crossbreed of the Thiasian war horse and the natives horses. Of course this was nothing new, people had been crossing breading these horses together for generations, in fact Laurent's own family had been doing it for years. But those horses had alway had some problem, or else they were temperamental. While many of the cross breeds had been ridable it wasn't enough to meet the demand of the military.

But now this ranch and the seven others like it around the country were working on correcting that problem. Laurent had found the program supporting only a few ranches and he had worked to triple that number. If all went to plan in a few years the natives wouldn't be able to carry out lighting fast attacks with no fear of being run down by the much slower Thiasian cavalry.

This could potentially be a war changing experience, so West made sure his pet project was well funded and taken care off. His riders weren't the typical knights who made up most of the kings cavalry. In fact nearly none of them were noble. Some of them had some native blood in them in fact. They were picked because of aptitude and one other important factor, they were light. While the horses were strong, they were only fast if they had a rider with minimal armor and a light physique. Which is why all the riders who lined both sides of the barn, horses reigns in hand and standing at attention, didn't look like large strong warriors at all. If not for the military positions in which they stood one might think they were the ranch hands taking care of the horses for the knights. And Laurent had no problem with that, after all he didn't want to advertise that he had half-baskar on his payroll.

West was proud of his accomplishment and he was sure to make regular inspections on the closest ranches to ensure everything was going according to plan. Since not many people were included on the project Laurent had to micromanage. So regular were his inspections in fact that he would stop them for no man, except the king of course. Even the kings younger brother was forced to travel the half days trip if he wanted to speak to the general that day. So as Laurent inspected the his cavalry and conferred with his lieutenants he kept one eye to the door watching for Prince Fergus's arrival.

He wasn't nervous about the appearance of the noble, even before his promotion he had never been intimidated by the nobility and his power as general only furthered this. If he had his way he would abolish the whole system. But West was not a statesmen and the only way he could become king was a coupe, which wouldn't be terribly hard at times like these. Already three different parties had approached him about a military take over, all of which he of course revealed to the king. After the public executions people decided to stop asking him for their help in ruling the land. Such dishonesty was a hard thing for West to understand, whether because of a natural loyal disposition or his military discipline he didn't know nor care. All he was sure of was he would always serve the king, and if he died despite Laurent's best efforts his services would pass to the Prince Fergus. Which is why he awaited the meting, anxious to learn how he could help the prince. Of course the two knew each other but the prince had never before came to Laurent for military advice, and Laurent knew the better advice he gave the more likely Fergus was to keep him as general if he became king. Something Laurent wanted very much.

Three days ago Fergus had been told by Aedan that he was going to be stationed on the border in the near future, and while no date had been set yet and Fergus was uncertain what the long term implications of such a move were going to be, he was going. There wasn't any realistic way that he could not go. Back at the keep the preliminary work had begun, lists were being drawn up, suppliers contacted and information gathered. It was the last which had drawn Fergus out and away from the bulk of the preparations, while he had been to the boarder before he hadn't spent much time fighting or observing barbarians of either tribe, and while there were plenty of people he could have asked he'd chosen to ask General West.

When he'd enquired after the man he'd been told that he was off examining the progress of the new cavalry horse breeding program and was unlikely to be back in the near future. When he'd sent the man a message asking for some of his time, he'd received a reply telling him that General West wasn't going to drop everything to come and talk to him, but he could go and see General West at one of the ranches, half a day’s ride from the keep, instead. While it wasn't a particularly respectful move Fergus didn't think it was a sign of hostility. They'd rarely spoken before, but General West was a pragmatist rather than a politician, and estranging the heir wasn't a very sensible move. He'd just have to hope that these horses were worth it.

Being the heir it wasn't sensible for him to go out alone, and so what was on the road was Fergus and the minimum escort of two guards. Both of them were on uniform bays, while Fergus rode his own grey horse. All three were more traditional Scalian warhorses than some of the army units were favouring, a precarious combination of the warhorse and the local breed the natives used to great effect. Most of them were at this stage useless, there was something about them that simply wasn't suited to the army. The purpose of General West's breeding program was to correct this, and from what Fergus could make out if it didn't work, then it wouldn't be from lack of trying. The man had been pouring time and resources into it, he'd even been doing his own recruiting.

By the time they reached the ranch - late morning, having set off early to try and avoid the heat of the midday sun and had only been partially successful in this - all of them were covered in dust from the road. It felt as if it was coating the inside of Fergus' mouth and throat as he dismounted in the small courtyard area, making breathing itself uncomfortable as air rasped in his throat. The water he'd brought with him, now warm, didn't seem to be able to shift it at all. If this was going to be what being on the boarder was like he was going to have to get a lot of practical advice out of this meeting. Although he did have a sense of pride he wasn't against admitting that there were things he didn't know, being completely infallible was Aedan's job.

There were a number of buildings and fenced off areas, but only a few people around. Most of them seemed to be watching, although Fergus probably didn't look terribly royal at this particular moment in time he didn't doubt that they'd been warned that he was coming. It was possibly one reason why everything was so quiet out here, although the sounds from the barn would suggest where everyone was. Horses were not the quietest of animals, especially not in groups, and he could hear the noise of hooves and the whinnies through the walls of the barn. As he loosened the girth on his horses saddle two men came forwards, men who Fergus assumed were stable hands as they said they were to take the horses while Fergus went and spoke to the General, who was in the barn. As it would probably take several hours the horses couldn’t be left standing somewhere in full gear. His view that they were stable hands seemed to be confirmed when all three horses reacted well to them, while none of them had a particularly vicious temper they weren't exactly the easiest of horses to manage. Even if the men were a little odd, he could understand why the General would be interested in employing them.

On entering the barn, the scent of horses was overpowering. As was the dust thrown up from the ground by their stomping feet, which only helped to further aggravate his lungs. Struggling not to cough, eyes watering with the effort, he looked around the barn, trying to see General West. The barn itself was huge, and from where he stood he could guess that there had to be at least fifty young horses present with as many men. The manner they held themselves in was strange, it was clearly a militaristic one, although the way they were dressed and the way some of them looked would point to them being no more than hands. Strange. He shook his head, continuing to look around for General West. The man was on an inspection, which would explain the way they were all turned out - as the man had told him to come down here he very much doubted that this was some sort of reception - and he was likely to be in here somewhere. It was now just a case of locating him, or being located. Whichever happened first.

Despite his fondness for order and precision the general did have a soft spot for horses, beasts that were known for their lack there of. But they were brave, strong, dependable, and more loyal than a dog. A lot more useful to. Maybe it was this affinity that had led to his successful military career, after all he could only think of a few instances where he hadn't had a good horse to ride into battle on. Unfortunately the horse in front of him at the moment was definitely not a good horse, or if it was it was quite adept at hiding it.

This horse was the only horse not ready for inspection in the large barn, the only horse who refused to be tamed, much less ridden. The horse's rider was not to blame, Laurent had recruited the man himself and witnessed his almost inexplicable ability to calm most horses. Most being the operative word of course. Now the rider, a small lean man with dark features, was standing off to the side of the small stable, standing well out of range of the horses hooves. Laurent also kept his distance from the beast, who was bound to one edge of the stable, watching as it attempted to kick at the two men whether out of fear or anger Laurent didn't know.

"I told you she was wild" said the rider with just a hint of triumph in his voice. That was true, the young rider had told West that the horse was beyond training but the general just assumed he was overreacting, so used to always winning his horses over that when he encountered a slight hitch he assumed it was the bests fault not his own. His own skill becoming a handicap. But the horse was truly mad, whether a result of some abuse or the unstable mix of breeds was unknown. Shame.

"Very well, have the animal killed and butchered. You'll remain here and help the other riders with their horses. When a man falls in battle and his horse is recovered you'll take that horse, but until then you'll remain horseless, understood?" The man nodded in a response to West, although his true thoughts on the situation were unreadable. But West cared little for the opinion of one horsemen of many and left the small stable to continue his inspection. He hoped the horse meat might be ready before he left, he did enjoy the meal. Horses were brave, strong, dependable, and delicious. Especially when cooked until the tender meat fell of the bone.

All this thinking about food was forcing Laurent to notice his growing hunger. He tried to remember the last time he had ate but couldn't, probably sometime yesterday. He had all but finished the inspection of the compound leaving him plenty of time for a nice midday meal. Perhaps the prince would arrive in time to join him. But as he entered the barn proper he noticed the prince had already joined him while he was dealing with the rogue animal. Early, a good trait in a man. He approached the scion as he dismissed the assembled men with a sharp signal to one of his lieutenants.

He offered a reasonably low bow to the prince, unsure of the level of respect he demanded from his lessors. "Good day your highness, I trust your trip was comfortable." When pleasantries were aside the general gestured to the large door of the equally large barn . "Would you mind having our discussion over a meal, unless you've already ate of course." Either way the prince looked like he could use some water, or a drink of a stronger persuasion.

There seemed nothing to do but wait. Several of the hands - or whatever they were, he made a mental note to ask about it later - had given him curious looks, but it went no further than that. Clearly not a reception party. As General West had made him come down here in the first place, he doubted that the man would take to being rushed in an inspection, so really waiting seemed the most sensible, if not the only, thing to do. Not something that would have happened to Aedan, and it irritated Fergus in a way he couldn't quite begin to describe. He'd been raised as a prince, and waiting wasn't something that had featured heavily in his upbringing. The dust grating on his throat didn't help matters.

For a moment he considered going back outside, if only to escape the heavier dust, before deciding that he'd stand by the door instead. General West was probably in here somewhere, and he didn't want to miss the man because he thought Fergus hadn't arrived yet. His ability to breathe without the need to cough didn't get better, and he tried to distract himself from it as he waited, looking around the stables as if a distraction might make the problem go away.

Where he was it was mostly calm and peaceful, a few stomps and whinnies, occasionally one of the men shifted slightly. Fergus leant back on the wall, arms folded and one leg lazily crossed over the other, and started looking further back. Somewhere a horse was really throwing a fit, he couldn't see it but he could hear it. The thuds of its hooves hitting what sounded like wood echoed around the barn. It was, he decided, quite possibly where General West was. Without knowing what they were trying to breed exactly he couldn't say if any of the horses were what they were looking for or not, but a horse behaving like that was certain to get attention fast.

Several minutes after he'd arrived he saw the first human movement, a Thiasian man slightly taller than he was, lean and with unkempt hair walking through the hands and horses towards the centre of the barn. Having met General West several times before, although briefly, Fergus recognised the man and automatically pulled his weight forwards, standing up straight and wondering absently what he looked like, covered in dust from the road. Shorter by a few inches, he also had a slightly stockier built and longer brown hair, his earth-toned clothes further dulled by the dust. The man recognised him as well, and with a swift nod to an inferior saw sudden movement as the hands began to dissemble, moving the horses away. They were, among other things, well organised.

Fergus inclined his head slightly in return to the General's bow, he frequently used it as an acknowledgment of someone existing but this time he did feel a bit respectful. Perhaps the man was slightly irritating, but the level of organisation and discipline he'd seen so far was enough to suggest to him that General West was someone worth respecting in his own right. From what he'd heard the man was someone to be looked up to as well, and it would be a good idea generally to respect the power he held.

Compared to many journeys the one he'd just taken was comfortable, dust or not, so he nodded in answer to the question. When it came to a verbal response, there was a bit more of a problem. As soon as he tried speaking he started coughing, loudly and quite hard as his hand clamped over his mouth and his eyes continued to water. After a few seconds, with no sign of the fit stopping and a growing fear that he wasn't going to stop if he didn't get out of the barn, Fergus jerked his head at the door and ducked outside, stopping to the left of the door and leaning heavily back on the wall. It was no where near as dusty as nothing was moving in the area, and son the coughing began to ease off, leaving Fergus breathing heavily and feeling foolish.

With an almost grim smile he looked over his shoulder for General West, he hadn't noticed if the man had followed him or not but he strongly suspected that he wouldn't have gone far. "Dusty, I'm afraid." He said, waving a hand vaguely in the air to show that assistance wasn't required. His voice still sounded slightly wheezy as he tried to control his breathing, bringing it back to normal. His attempts to interfere didn't seem to help matters as his lungs continued to work harder than usual. "Neither my men nor I have eaten, I would be more than happy to join you for a meal." Hopefully somewhere that wasn't dusty. His men, he trusted, were smart enough to ask where the mess hall was, or whatever passed for one around here. They had their own provisions, but as it was approaching the midday meal they’d probably be able to get something with the hands.

The general felt a small amount of sympathy as the heir apparent started to hack in reply to his question. Laurent hoped the smell of the barn hadn't overwhelmed the man, he had become so used to the rather pungent smell that accompanied horses that he was all but accustomed to it. Because of this he couldn't be sure of how unbearable the smell from the barn was, but his men seemed not to mind. This could just be due to their similar upbringings around horses. Unfortunately the prince had no such childhood. Of course the prince could also be coming down with a sickness of some sort, maybe life threatening. If that was the case then perhaps the Prince would not weather it and perish, putting more pressure on the king to produce an heir. But the far more likely reason for the man's coughing would be the amount of dust being kicked up by the horses, especially now that they were on the move. He felt a little guilt about not greeting the prince when he arrived, but such things were in the past and trivial. He remembered his own experience with horses and dust. During his first campaign as a outrider he had neglected to bring enough for water for his three day excursion. Needless to say by the end of the three days the inside of his mouth tasted like leather. Since then he always brought a large skin of water with him when ever he went ridding for more than a day.

Laurent followed the Prince out of the barn, moving to provide assistance to the scion. He wasn't sure what he could do, much less what was wrong with the man but he would figure that out later. Luckily he never had the need to help as the prince seemed to recover from his coughing fit on his own. Laurent only then remembered the flask that was one of the many items dangling from his belt. But perhaps it was best that the Prince wasn't aware that the general of the King's army carried around a container of liquor with him. After all most of the soldiers didn't know he had anything stronger than water. While technically Laurent was allowed to drink on duty, mainly because there was no one to report his misconduct to, he avoided doing anything his men couldn't do, within reason of course. Not holding double standards and doing things himself that he made his men do could only help morale and he wanted his troops to have every advantage over the barbarians.

"I'm sorry the trip was so taxing on you, you'll be fine with some water I'm sure." He made sure not to apologize for bringing the prince out to the ranch. It was the prince after all who had wanted to meet him, not the other way around. If he would have waited for a day then the general could have meet with him at the keep, but the prince had decided to make it today. Fergus could have been robbed or slain and the general, while being appropriately upset, would not have felt any guilt. So while he was honestly sorry the trip was unpleasant it didn't cross his mind that it was his fault.

"Then you're in luck, you've arrived just in time for the midday meal. Your men can join the meal in the main hall" he accompanied his request with a gesture towards a large building where many of the cavalry men seemed to be assembling. "We can discuss matters privately in the commanding officers lodging, over a meal of course."

"So" the general said as the guards left earshot and he made his way towards his temporary lodging. "Sending you to the border is he?"

While he’d still been coughing the General had evidently followed him outside, although no offer of help was made. Whether this was due to the gesture or the General deciding that there was nothing he could do to help Fergus didn’t know, and it felt too petty to worry about really. Certainly not when he didn’t feel as if he had the breath to spare again quite yet, while the coughing fit itself had past he was still wheezing and his throat was now sore to boot. He wouldn’t have minded if it felt any less dry and dusty, but it didn’t.

No apology was offered for dragging him out here and putting him in this situation, further adding to Fergus’s growing opinion that General West wasn’t going to apologise for something unless he was either ordered to or considered it a personal failing of some sort. Perhaps it would have been worth waiting for the man to come back to the keep, even if this little trip was already proving to be a learning experience, the way he spoke almost made Fergus feel as if he was intruding on the man’s private terrain. Actually feeling like that was out of the question, so he tried not to, but he still got the impression that General West wasn’t overly enthusiastic about his being here.

Nevertheless, he smiled and nodded, straightening up. It was an empty smile, one he used quite frequently in public. People could map their own ideas onto it if they were particularly inventive, otherwise it served as a barrier between the world and his thoughts. A good thing really, he really would be in trouble if anyone worked out just how paranoid he could be. Scared men were men to be scared of after all, they had a tendency to do stupid things. “I was unprepared, it won’t happen again.” He sounded carless, as if it didn’t much matter. This time it didn’t anyway, it was only his own throat he was damaging. It hurt more when he tried to speak, and he tried to suppress a wince of pain as settled back to a steady burn.

The hall looked just like every other building to Fergus, but he didn’t doubt that it was where the food was being served. The General had no reason to lie about that and the stable hands were all moving in that direction. The guards were standing close enough to hear them, but didn’t move until Fergus nodded at them to go. Both gave stiff bows before scurrying off, sticking close together. Quite apart from the strange bearing, the stable hands didn’t look at if they came from the same breeding pool. Fergus was going to have to ask about that as well, although perhaps the best way to go about it would be to ask other people who might know. If there was anything remotely wrong about the set up the General was going to be the last person to tell him what it was.

He nodded absently when the General said they could talk in the private quarters, he hadn’t thought that they’d be talking anywhere else. Not that they were likely to be discussing anything that needed to be kept between just the two of them, at least Fergus hoped not. General West had proved to be a loyal follower of his brother, but that left plenty of things that could still be said.

“It would appear so.” Fergus replied, sourly. There was no need to ask who General West was talking about, or why he’d waited until the guards were out of earshot. It would be announced soon enough and there were already rumours going round, but there was no need to aggravate them. “He seldom jokes about such things.” In fact Aedan seldom joked about anything these days, if he had to start with. Fergus had been in awe of his brother when younger, and now he was also scared of him he wasn’t exactly disposed towards seeing humour where he could see trouble. “And your breeding program? Going well?”