The Incoming Storm

CHAPTER 4 - GHOSTS OF OLD MEMORIES

"And some strengths were found not from revelations or truths but from experience and growth. A phase were a person had left their inner selves behind to wither and die."

- Words from an Unknown Poet -

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Aiden slid from his horse, his boots crunching the dry hay in the stable's floors. He stretched, his body aching from the long hours of riding before he proceeded to give his horse a treat. His horse gobbled the apple greedily from his hand.

"Now, that's a good boy," Aiden said, as he patted his horse's mane.

The smell of manure and hay was thick in the air of the Ring's stables but Aiden didn't mind much. His neighbor back at his village used to own a horse ranch and he was sometimes sent there to help out with the horses as a boy. His neighbor, a tall man with graying hair, gave good wages, which wasn't so bad. The man had a half-dozen horses and there in his small, cramped stable was when Aiden realized that he had a fondness for these strong beasts.

"Took you long enough," a voice said, breaking Aiden's chain of thoughts.

The boy looked up to find Commander Yor, his master, standing in the stable's halls. Commander Yor was the leader of the Squadron and he had been in service of the imperial army for more than forty years. He was in his sixties but yet he still stood as proud as the younger soldiers and fought just as strong. He towered over most men as well in height, his body brutally built like an ox, which made him resemble a giant. He was even taller than Aiden for a few inches.

"The stable boy's stationed right there in the corner if you need him," said Yor as he walked towards the stall.  "Would safe you quite the trouble if you had asked him for help."

"Some old habits just don't really die, Sir." Aiden gave his horse one last pat before he swung the double doors of his horse's stall. "Also, tending this horse isn't so bad."

"You've always been fond of horses," said Yor. "I can tell since the first time you've taken your apprenticeship. You would spend all your afternoon in the capitals' stables."

"Believe it or not I used to be a stable boy when I was young," admitted Aiden. He grabbed his sword which he had leaned outside of his horse's stall.

"I thought your father was a carpenter," Yor replied as they finally walked side by side.

"He was, but he was also a carver. Turns out he enjoyed creating artwork more than just cutting wood and assembling furniture," said Aiden. He remembered his father's sturdy hands, his light blue eyes narrowed in concentration as he carved the body of a wooden soldier in his hands. His father had been an artist. "But turns out I didn't really inherit his talent or interest with the carving knife or the saw. Turns out it lies elsewhere."

Yor guffawed, "I swear to the gods, I can't possibly picture you as a horse breeder."

Aiden squinted as the sunlight blared on him as they walked out of the stables before his eyes finally adjusted themselves to the light. He turned to look at his surroundings. It had been two years since he had been in the Ring as he took in the familiar paths and buildings in the interior. So much had changed.

The rest of the Squadron members were there as two officers came to escort them. One of them was Marks, and he managed to give Aiden a glare before he turned his back on them, leading the way. Aiden scoffed, the man had never liked him during his trainee days and neither did he.

Aiden walked just behind Yor as they moved down the path before entering a nearby building. Commander West resided in the main building right in the heart of the interior which served as his office, chambers, and a circular chamber where the officials in the Ring meet to discuss matters.