It was late. Close to midnight, in Fergus’s estimation, although as there was rain coming down and the sky was overcast it was hard to tell exactly. In the pitch black it felt like it should be midnight anyway, there was still a hive of activity in the town and around the keep. Fergus, much against his will, was caught up in it.

Ideally, after a nerve wracking evening meal he’d be in his room at this stage, finishing up the last of a particularly vicious alcoholic drink he favoured and passing out. Not terribly attractive and he’d have to pretend to be fine the following morning while it felt like a beserker was hitting his head repeatedly with a stone club, but after his brother had not quite subtly asked him if he was plotting to overthrow him, he really couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do.

Unfortunately, his brother had also said that he wanted him to go and deal with the eastern barbarians. Knowing his brother as he did, Fergus assumed that meant ‘get ready, I’ll give you very little warning’. Leaving nothing to chance, Fergus had started preparations that evening with the full intention of drinking later. Problems had quickly arisen – namely, someone had misplaced a supply wagon. In fact several, as it turned out. How you misplaced one Fergus wasn’t sure, you’d have thought someone would have noticed if one went missing, it wasn’t exactly small. How you misplaced three was beyond him. There were others of course, but he didn’t want to imagine the reaction he’d get from Aedan if he found out that he, Fergus, had noticed that three were missing and had made no attempt to find them.

At first it had been fairly humorous, certain that they’d been accidentally stored somewhere else. After several hours, no sign and more irritating clerks that he could count, he never wanted to see a warehouse ledger again and felt like throttling someone. Half an hour ago he’d threatened to accuse a clerk – who wasn’t any more of a criminal than the rest of them in all probability, in other words the small objects that went missing around him weren’t that important – of theft of the kings property if they didn’t find them.

He knew he was being unfair. The arrangements of his own supplies were going well, and there was probably a logical explanation, but as he stalked down the long corridor lit by only two flickering torches, dressed in the smart but serviceable clothes he’d worn to dinner, he really didn’t care.