Earlier that evening, the rest of the party, led by Sir Gael, reached the final stretch of the journey to Castle Gorlan. They rose to a slight crest and as the castle came into view, several of the men oohed and aahed at the sight. Sir Gael had to admit that it was certainly impressive, with its soaring towers and flags, held up by the slight breeze that was fighting valiantly to avoid going limp on their standards. Still, it would be unprofessional for a knight to be seen sightseeing.

"Don't get distracted!" Sir Gael snapped. "The sight is not the point here. Now focus and move it!" The men, shamefaced, nudged their horses once more and continued on towards the stunning building, that was beginning to glow in the moonlight. Gael had no idea that Anthony was benefitting from that moonlight as well, to steal from the bandits' hideout. In the several seconds between him noticing the moonlight and the small procession reaching the castle, Gael noticed two or three men moving among the castle balustrades with lit torches. The castle staff were moving among the sentries to light the torches in their brackets, providing the men on duty with light. However, Gael mused, torches could sometimes have the opposite effect, ruining a man's night vision.

Then he snapped himself out of it and nudged his horse once more, urging it faster. The nine men with him were caught unawares for a few seconds, then did the same. Their horses' hooves thudded a rapid tattoo on the packed dirt road. As they neared the castle and the footbridge across the moat, Gael curbed his horse's canter down to a relaxed trot. One of the two sentries in the small guardhouse pavilion strode out of it to intercept him.

"Who goes there?" the man asked, forming the ancient words of the challenge.

"Sir Gael of Araluen Fief, returning from the war with the Scotti. I need to meet with Baron Trevor."

The man nodded. "Of course," he said. "What about your men?" He nodded to the nine men at arms behind the grizzled knight.

"They can stay in the garrison guardhouse. I planned on spending the night here." Gael shifted in the saddle impatiently.

The sentry nodded once more and stepped aside, giving Gael access to the footbridge.

Gael nudged his horse forward on the narrow planks and, when he was across, waved down a page. "Take my horse to the stables," he gave the order to the boy. "Tend to him well and then go to Baron Trevor and tell him Sir Gael has a request."

The page nodded and reached for the horse's reins. Gael handed them to him and searched around the courtyard for a bench. He spotted one right outside the keep and sank gratefully into it.

Twenty minutes later, according to the water drip clock outside the guardhouse, the page reappeared again. It was little enough time, Gael reflected, as he had arrived late at night and unannounced.

As he followed the boy up the stairs, Gael smiled inwardly at the designing of them. The staircase spiraled upward to the right, a way that would put a right-handed attacking soldier at a disadvantage. They would need to show their entire body around the curved stone wall, whereas a defender would only need to expose an arm. Sir Gael's contented woolgather stopped when he realized why he was on this mission. The country of Araluen was at war, so the spiral staircase made perfect sense. As he had this thought, the page stopped and turned to him. "There you go," he said. "Baron Trevor's office and living quarters are just in there, on the fifth floor."

Sir Gael smiled his thanks at the boy and went inside. On the other side of the door sat a supremely tall man at a ridiculously cluttered desk. Looking at it, Gael surmised that the papers sitting on the man's desk probably weighed collectively as much or more than the desk they were resting on. The floor was covered with a richly patterned brocade rug and the walls of this office sported a handful of paintings. One of them was a portrait of Trevor's father, also an immensely tall man but a good deal broader in the chest.

The man sitting at the desk looked up as the door opened and his thin face creased into a smile. "Why, Sir Gael," Baron Trevor said. "A pleasure to see you. Do you need refreshments?"

Sir Gael sank into the chair opposite the Baron and smiled tolerantly. "Small ale, please," he said. "I need to keep a clear head."

Trevor nodded and dug under the papers on his desk for a few seconds. Gael puzzled over the man's purpose for this but then the answer was revealed. Trevor held up a small silver bell and rang it three times. The door leading to the staircase opened and the page that had escorted Gael upstairs reappeared. "Yes?"

"My guest and I request a glass of wine and a glass of small ale," Baron Trevor said, and the boy nodded and withdrew once more. When the page had closed the door behind him, Trevor glanced a question at Gael. "Down to business," he said. "Last I heard, you were in the north fighting against the Scotti. Why have you returned?"

"I need men," Gael replied succinctly. He was relieved that the tall man had gotten to the point as quickly as he had. In the past, Trevor had a habit of continuing the small talk long after everyone but himself had tired of it. Gael was a straightforward man and didn't have time for that sort of rubbish, preferring to speak plainly and straightforwardly. Of course, Gael reflected, on the occasions in which Trevor had been inclined to carry on demonstrating his verbosity, his guests had not arrived late at night with urgent messages. Now the knight continued.

"The border wars are going terribly. The Pictan warriors mount nuisance raids on our camps in the dead of night, forcing our men to stay awake in fear. We can't help but reply to them since we don't know if they will launch a legitimate attack on us. Point is, we need men. As many as you can spare, and rouse the army from the farms nearby. I'm expecting –"

He was about to continue when the door opened and the page entered, holding a platter that bore the drinks they had ordered. The page turned to go when a man burst into the room. Gael reacted instinctively, rising to his full height and beginning to draw his sword. His sword was one-third of the way out of its scabbard when he stopped and looked more closely at the man. He was vaguely familiar, the knight thought, then the questions in his mind were answered as the man began to talk.

"Anthony's not coming," the man said.

The man was one of the half a dozen that had stayed with the prince, Gael realized. He frowned. "What do you mean, he's not coming?"

The soldier made a helpless gesture with his hands. "I mean exactly what I said," he said, then explained further as the grizzled knight's face grew increasingly impatient. "He told me and four of the men at arms with him to push on ahead to tell you he will stay in the south to recruit more men. He suggested that you take the men you have and go north to recruit more on your way to the border."

Sir Gael nodded thoughtfully and was about to reply when Baron Trevor interrupted. "Anthony?" the tall man said, his interest raised. "I assume this would be the Prince?"

The man who had recently come in nodded confirmation.

Trevor digested that information, then turned to the knight. "Find a room on the third-floor guest apartments," he said. "I'll detail my guard commander to round on the farms to mobilize the army in the morning. You want cavalry, correct?" He said the last as a question to the warrior, who shrugged indifferently.

"I mainly want foot soldiers," Gael replied. "But cavalry may work better against the Scotti. They don't use horses, so that may come as a nasty surprise. So to answer your question, yes, I'd like some cavalrymen. But I'd like at least thirty infantry as well, and maybe ten or fifteen archer units."

Trevor nodded and bid the two men a good night. They nodded gratefully and exited the room. Trevor got to his feet as well and exited his office, but continued down the stairs to the main floor of the keep to find the garrison commander and detail him to rouse his men.