Knights of Bayard

by Abi Sain

Chapter Four (Unedited)

The signal horn woke him in the morning and he saw the sun coming through the window and got out of the bed roll. He grabbed his tunic and cloak and followed the other solider towards the shelter. The volley guns in the nearby garden fired and the air shook and the thundering sounds it produced made Lulamoon’s headache worse. He never saw the guns up close but he understood enough to know that they were firing directly over them. It was nuisance to have them there, but it was a comfort over having the house leveled with him inside. As they reached the shelter he heard ponies galloping in the streets. He dressed, had some coffee in the kitchen and after hearing the all clear, went out to the storehouse.

Ten wagons were lined up side by side outside the storehouse. They were heavy, iron-plated wagons, bearing distinct banners and sigils, and built for large drafts. The pack-ponies were loading one out by the road. Two others were being escorted down the road.

“Have they reloaded the volley guns?” asked Lulamoon to one of the pack-ponies.

“Not yet. Bramley’s just headed out to deliver the extra grape-shots.”

“How’s everything here?”

“Not too bad. This wagon is no good, but others are working just fine.” He stopped working and smiled. “A shipment came last night.”

“Anything good?”

He wiped his hooves on his tunic and grinned. “Tobacco and coca tea, from Azteca.” The others all grinned too.

“Fine,” said Lulamoon. He gave the pack-pony two silver bits taking a small bag from him tying it onto his belt beneath his cloak. “What’s the matter with this wagon?”

“It’s no good. One thing after another.”

“Which is it this time?”

“Wheel’s rotten. Probably from all the rain.”

He left them working, the wagon looking beaten and worn with the plates rusted and the wood bloated with water, and he went into the storeroom and looked at the stock. The room was moderately clean, and there were no rats or insects, a few spiders though. He looked at the crates carefully, looking for cuts, or splits, or exposed nails. Everything seemed to be in good condition. It made no difference what he thought, however, whether it was in good condition or not. He had imagined that the condition of their supplies, whether the food was edible, the weapons were sharp, or the black-powder dry, and hauling them and requisitioning supplies, depended to a considerable extent on himself. The quartermaster, and most of the war council for that matter, did not seem to think so.

“Has there been any trouble with our suppliers?” He asked the pack-pony.

“No, Sergeant.”

“When is the next shipment coming?”

“Around the same time. We gave him a list before he left.”

“Good,” said Lulamoon and he went back to the tavern and drank another bowl of coffee. The coffee was black but mild and there were only a few grounds in it. Outside the window the leaves were already starting to fall. There was that chilly feeling that meant the day would be cold later. That day he visited the other storerooms along the northern trench and met with the volley gunners, and the apothecary, and was back in the house late in the afternoon.

The whole thing seemed to be running again. They were preparing for another siege, at least that’s what he heard. The regiment for which he worked were to attack at a place up the hillside and a scout told him that Silver Mane would oversee it.

It was very chilly out now and he went up to his room to lay down. Swift Bolt was sitting on his bedroll drinking from an old and worn waterskin. He was dressed, wore his grey cloak and his mane was brushed.

“You’re finally back,” he said when he saw Lulamoon. “How are things going? Did Clipper have anything knew to tell us?”

“He says we may be moving again soon.”

“Who is it this time?”

“Silver Mane.”

Lulamoon washed his face, brushed his mane, and sat beside Swift Bolt.

“Hold on,” Swift Bolt said. “Perhaps we should have a drink.” He opened his trunk and took out a bottle.

“Rum,” said Lulamoon.

“No. Mead.”

“All right.”

He poured two cups and they touched them. The mead was sweet but very strong.

“Another?”

“All right,” he said. They drank the second mead, and Swift Bolt put away the bottle. The air felt chilly and they put a sheet over the window, and wrapped themselves in their cloaks.

“I’ve heard the name Silver Mane being whispered in the armory. Was helping Blue Ember with the eate grenades, and she told me we’d be getting somepony new leading the regiment.”

“Did she mention if he was any good?”

“Supposedly, he was chosen by Lady Posey. But that could just be talk.”

“It’s very odd though. Why do this now?”

“I don’t know,” said Swift Bolt. “There isn’t always an explanation for everything. And if there were, we don’t get paid enough to know.”

“Must be awfully nice, being in the loop.”

“Don’t talk that way. As ta leme kala.”

“What?”

“It’s a saying back in the Empire. Let’s pretend it is okay.”

“You ponies are too laid back about these things.”

“No. We just don’t bother with things we know we can’t change.”

Swift Bolt drank from the waterskin, and Lulamoon saw there was chain around his neck, beneath his tunic.

“A gift from the priest?” he asked.

“Hmm,” said Swift Bolt. “Oh, yes. The priest gave me his pendant. He’s a very nice colt. I might marry him and move to the Everfree.”

“Can you do that?”

“I don’t know. But it is nice to think about.”

“I wouldn’t mind meeting somepony after all this. I even saw a zebra in town. She had a pretty face, and a soft voice. Before now, I wouldn’t have thought of her that way. Now, I wouldn’t mind waking up beside her.”

“War has opened your eyes my friend.”

Lulamoon did not say anything.

“Oh yes,” he said. “I remember. I met somepony in the chapel this morning.”

“Were you decent?”

“Of course, I was. But listen, this mare, she was the same one as before. In the tavern.”

“You mean that culverin.”

“Yes, yes. I wanted to do something for her. She seemed very sad, and the priest said she came often. I thought perhaps you could meet her and then of course give her a proper night. Make her feel like a mare, and not a soldier.”

“Are you seriously whoring me out to some stranger?”

“Yes. You need a special somepony in your life. I have my priest, and you will have your culverin.”

“And probably dourine with my luck.”

“She’s not really bad. And I’ve always seen you by yourself.”

Lulamoon looked at the ceiling blankly.

“You will love her,” Swift Bolt said. “She is very nice.”

“You’ve said that about a lot of mares.”

“Only, because it’s true,” said Swift Bolt. “It’s just you that isn’t nice.”

Comments

[Hoops]

I might be able to help in a bit

[Abi Sain]

8362604