By Emmet’s count, the Bennets must have brought at least two dozen servants with them. They scurried about the halls of the castle, trying to make sense of the layout as the carried trunks and sacs through the halls, making sure that the everything they brought was in it’s place.

“Excuse me.” Emmet said as he stopped a tired looking old woman in her tracks, basket of laundry in tow.

“What is it?” She asked, clearly irritated to have been stopped.

“It’s about the dukes horse, it–“

“Good or bad?” She interrupted.

Emmet hesitated, thinking of how he could express that while it was a bad situation, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. And in his hesitation, the old woman shrugged and let our a nervous chuckle.

“Bad, then? Tell you what, you go handle it. Duke is in the dining hall.” She pat Emmet on the shoulder, giving him a look of almost mocking sympathy. “Good luck.”

A nervous jolt ran down Emmet’s spine at her words. Good luck. He had heard that nobility could afford to have a lack of patience or understanding, but he had never really experienced that firsthand. The Forcetti family had been kind enough to him and his kin, but the Bennets were strangers to him. And worst of all, how would this make him look? Not even an afternoon had he been in charge of these horses, and he had to bring up news of a serious injury. He let out a sigh as he made his way down the corridors, to the dining hall in the center of the castle.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. He thought to himself. I found the wound early. This is a chance for me to show what I can do! I can help nurse the wound, and hopefully have the steed ready to ride again by the time the Bennet’s leave.

“Stop!”

Emmet was caught in his tracks by an aggressive voice, and a large, armored man quickly approaching him. One of the Bennet’s guards, now doubt. Emmet must have walked quicker than he though he was, as he was already standing in front of the sealed doors to the dining hall. The man had his sworn sheathed at his side, his hand resting on the hilt as his chain mail rattled with each step. “What is it? Speak up!” He barked, looking down at Emmet.

“It’s one of the horses, sir.” He spat out, eyes darting between the guards face and his hand that seemed to be ready to draw steel. “It’s got a wound, I thought Duke Bennet would want to know.” The guard looked down at Emmet with a sneer, giving a heavy sniff before rolling his eyes.

“Wait here.” He finally said, before turning, opening one of the double doors and squeezing through the crack. Emmet stood in the hallway for what felt like several moments, tapping his foot as he stewed in his own nerves. The best he could do was spend the time rehearsing what he would say in his head.

“His leg is hurt, but it’s nothing too serious. He needs some time off of it and–“ the door swung open, and the same guard glared at him, gesturing for him to follow. Emmet swallowed, and went in behind the guard.

Emmet had been in the dining hall of the castle a handful of times, but only for minor occasions or when Lord Forcetti felt like humoring Aaron by allowing him to bring friends in for a mock feast. But this was no mock feast, this was a full celebration. At the head table in the back of the room sat the Forcetti and Bennet families; the two lords next to one another, and the rest on either side of them. Aaron seemed to have broken away from his own family, and was sitting between Lucile and her brother. Just under another dozen guests sat at the other seats, Emmet recognized them as merchants and other wealthy members of Elksbrooke. All of their eyes were on Emmet as he followed the guard, who circled around the side of the hall towards the head table, Aaron especially wondering what he was doing here. Emmet had trusted that it was out of confusion and concern, rather than any real disappointment. This wasn’t an event to be interrupted for anything less than a serious issue. The rest of the table simply gave him a blank expression, studying him.

“This is the stable boy, Franklin?” Lord Bennet asked as he looked over to Emmet.

“That he is, one of the better I’ve had.” Lord Forcetti replied. It only occurred to Emmet that he had never learned the first name of his lord, something not wholly necessary when you always address him formally.

“If that is the case, I’ll overlook this interruption and assume you are sending for me because there is something deathly wrong with one of them? Is that the case, erm…” Duke Bennet snapped his fingers, looking over to Lord Forcetti.

“Emmet.” Forcetti replied.

“Emmet, yes. What seems to be the issue?”

Emmet felt his mouth turn dry, like someone had shoved a wad of cotton between his teeth. After a brief period of silence, he finally spoke up.

“The youngest male, his leg is inflamed under the knee but it shouldn’t be–“

“Thunder is injured?” Spoke the Bennet son. He stood up from his seat next to his sister and leaned over the table, his brow furrowed as if he was challenging Emmet.

“Jason!” His father snapped, glaring at his son whose eyes darted around as his cheeks turned pink. “You would know by now if you had just listened.” The duke hissed before turning back to Emmet.

“Be honest with me boy.” He said, his tone turning stern “How long do you think it would take the horse to heal from his wound? He is supposed to race in the tourney, after all.”

Emmet held his breath as he thought on what to say. While he was optimistic with the horses ability to heal, these wounds were never quick to recover from. On top of that, it would mean limited activity to avoid exasperating it further.

“At least a month, probably more to be safe.” He finally said, his shoulders slumping. He knew it was not favorable news, but it was the truth. And deep down, he knew that blind optimism would do no favors for himself, or anyone else.

Duke Bennet simply nodded, looking over to his son as the two shared a wordless exchange.

“Young man,” The duke finally spoke. “I will meet you in the stables briefly, I want to see this for myself.” He said, standing from the table and leaning down to speak with Lord Forcetti. “Forgive me, Franklin. This shouldn’t take long.”

Emmet simply bowed, muttering some form of understanding as he promptly turned on his heels and left the dining hall.

The sun had set in the time it took Emmet to meet with the duke and return to the stables. All of the horses were doing well, save of course for the one Emmet would learn was named Thunder. He seemed to be showing more pain than he did just under a half hour ago when Emmet had left him. He was leaning further on his side to try and alleviate some of the pain in his inflamed leg, and he had hardly touched his food after such a long time on the road. Neither of these was a good sign.

Emmet let out a sigh as he leaned against the walls of the stable, watching the creature. “Don’t worry.” He said, unsure of who he was really trying to make feel better. Afterwards, Emmet stood in silence, simply waiting for Duke Bennet to return for whatever he had planned. He eventually heard footsteps before he saw anyone, looking outside the main door of the stables to see two figures approaching; Duke Bennet, and two of his armed guards, one of them holding a lantern to light the darkening road.

“Let me see the horse.” Duke Bennet said, as he entered the stable, his gaze set straight on the creature in question. Emmet opened the door to the stall to let the Duke in, who knelt on the ground to inspect his leg.

“How long did it take you to notice this?” The duke asked plainly.

“It wasn’t until later in the evening, sir.” Emmet replied. “Not until I really had a chance to look them all over, and he was the last. I sent for you as soon as I noticed.”

The duke grunted, irritated as he stood to his feet. “Then I will need to have a word with my quartermaster,” He said, brushing off his trousers. “This is something he should have noticed well before we left.” He looked to one of his guards, who nodded and left the stables.

“I think I can help with Thunder, your grace.” Emmet said, hoping he would not be speaking out of turn. “I’ve seen my father treat wounds like this in a little over a month, if you want I can–“

“That won’t be necessary.” The duke interrupted. “I want Jason to be here, first. Thunder is his horse, and he needs to be here for this.” He said, looking at the creature with a pitiful gaze.

Emmet’s stomach began to churn at the duke’s words. “What is… this?” He asked. The armed guard took his weapon, a long halberd with the an axe blade at one end, and a long metal spike on the other. He handing it to Emmet, who fumbled to keep it in his grasp. His jaw dropped, and he knew what the duke wanted done without any further explanation.

“No… no, no, no.” Emmet started stammering as his mind raced. “I can help him, I just need time!” Emmet said, hoping to reason with the duke. “Just let me take care of him, it isn’t even that bad, really!” He said, as the duke raised his brow.

“Never had to put a horse down, eh?” He asked, looking at Emmet as he had with Thunder just moments ago. With pity. “It isn’t an easy part of your trade, but one your father should have taught you by now. I know for a fact your father had to put down two steeds at last year’s tourney, did he not?”

Emmet swallowed as he felt the weight of the halberd in his hands. He had never held anything bigger than the axe he chopped wood with, and it was nowhere near as heavy as this.

“Yes, but…” Emmet couldn’t think of anything else to say. He knew that horses needed to be put down, lest they suffer even further from their injuries. He had just hoped that he could at least try to heal Thunder before it came to this.

“I’m afraid that by the time we were to leave, Thunder would not have had the time to heal properly.” The duke said. “And the journey home would only make things worse for him. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but it is the truth.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, turning around to see Duke Bennet’s guard offer him a sympathetic smile.

“Ah, it ain’t so bad, lad.” He said, far too casually for Emmet’s liking. “Here, let me show you.” He took the halberd from Emmet’s grasp with little protest, and walked over to the stall as the duke stepped aside. “Now, you might think to use the axe end, but that ain’t gonna be easy. Horse hide is thicker than human skin, and the blade is just going to get stuck in the muscle.

Emmet wanted to throw up. How could he talk about ending another creature’s life so casually, had he killed people like he planned to kill this horse?

He continued. “Take the spike end, and try to aim for the skull. It will be quick, and cleaner than if you tried any other method. Now–“

Emmet couldn’t stand to listen to this any longer. His vision started to turn blurry as his ears rang. He was breathing heavily, his knees shaking, and he felt his body start to grow hot. Worse than any fever or summer day he had felt. He watched as the guard slowly raised, the weapon over his head, and brought it down in demonstration of how he should murder the horse.

“No, no…” Emmet muttered as he started to grow even hotter. He felt sweat start to pool from his brow and drip down the side of his face, his shirt clung to his back and he swore he could see his breath as he held his eyes shut. They snapped back open, and the room began to swim as Emmet held out his hands towards the soldier.

“No!”

Emmet shouted as the room turned impossibly bright around him. He felt the heat leave his body in an instant, but he could feel it around him now. But what stood out most, was the screaming. The sounds of horses crying out in a panic as wood splintered and hooves slammed around him. But more than that, the sound of men in pain. He couldn’t see clear enough to notice what was going on in front of him, but he could see the bright light, the faint shape of men writing as the fell to the ground, their choked screams beat into his ears, and he felt himself loose balance.

Emmet fell to the ground, his head slamming against the hard floor of the stables as he looked up at the ceiling, and it slowly began to fade away until unconsciousness took him, and the heat eventually began to subside.

The last thing he recalled before blacking out, was how cool everything suddenly was.