Alter was dead. He had to be. He was dead, he had died and gone to hell, and this, this, monstrosity, this beast of pure spite, had been assigned as his eternal tormentor. The ground was hard and unforgiving, and although the grass was certainly green it granted no comfort to his aching spine. Laughter, smug and mocking, stung his ears as he silently raged against his forsaken existence. With a pained sound, a groaning, snarling, cry of anguish he levered himself up onto his elbows and surveyed his surroundings with contempt. A brutal hellscape did not surround him, there was no fire, no lava or brimstone. No pits filled with the wailing damned being tortured evermore by little red men wielding oversized cutlery. The sky was a hazy blue, the scattered and roaming clouds painfully picturesque. With a glacial turn of his neck, he regarded the source of the laughter, now reduced to chuckling and hushed snorts. Sitting atop or leaning against a tall wooden fence, half his squad were more than happy to exhibit their delight at his suffering. A fifth man, coincidentally the only one not currently mid cackle, frowned at him with pursed lips, crossed arms and stormy eyes. All things considered it wasn’t surprising, it being the third time Alter had been sent sailing through the air to land in a sprawling heap in almost as many minutes. By his nemesis. Merrily prancing about in victorious satisfaction. Again, his head swivelled like a security camera in a bank until the beast came into view.

  Pinecone. No, the creature did not deserve a name.

  It.

  “Oh, I know, use It to learn to ride on. It’s always a good idea to start with a horse that already knows who you are.” Alter lamented in a mocking tone under his breath.

  “Are you alright, boss?” Riptide called out. “You’ve got this! Fourth time’s the charm and all that!” The giggling resumed with restored strength.

  “I think perhaps we need to pair you with a different horse.” The fifth man stepped in, his deep rumbling voice was all business and left no room for argument.

  With a relieved nod Alter made his plodding way back to the fence and a previously laughing now suddenly quite nervous Whim was ushered forward by their hastily recruited instructor. Having rejoined the others, Alter leaned heavily on the fence and turned to see how the other riders were doing. The three other squad members in the other pens of the quartet were faring much better. Walross, Vangroover and Boozehound guided their mounts in steady circles with varying but equally impressive levels of ability. Satisfied, and a little jealous, he turned his head up, closed his eyes, and allowed the late morning sun to soothe the aches and pains. His peace was short lived, as an annoyed whinny, a Whim-sounding yelp, a thud, and a chorus of Oooh’s painted a vivid mental picture of what had just happened.

  His eyelids cracked open and sure enough Whim was on the floor massaging his tailbone but managing to smile at the same time. Their instructor was busy in the far corner corralling It and grabbing at its reins, bringing the horse to order with a seasoned display of skill.

  “Alright, this one is too high-spirited for a new rider. I’m going to take him back to the stables and bring back another. Keep doing what you’re doing.” He called tersely as he opened the pen and led It away.

  The squad watched man and beast leave in awkward silence before Riptide hissed out a breath and smiled wryly.

  “I’m honestly shocked he hasn’t stormed off in disgust yet.” He remarked once the man was safely out of earshot.

  “We’re certainly making him work for his money.” Whim agreed as he ambled back to them.

  “At least some of us are doing alright.” Alter remarked with a generous dash of bitterness, jerking his head towards the more successful squad members.

  “This mission is going to be hell.” Pavejack bemoaned.

  “It won’t be as bad as you think. Our somewhat supernatural endurance and recovery times should make travel bearable. I think.” Riptide encouraged him with a gentle pat of the shoulder.

  Conversation idled onward as they watched the others make their circuits before motion resumed along the path from the stables ten minutes later. Not just one replacement had been selected, a whole set of four new horses were being led towards them. The instructor, who had introduced himself when they’d first met but Alter had immediately forgotten what his name was, strode at the front.

  “Have any of you had any trouble?” He called out to the mounted men as he arrived, to which they confirmed that all was well. “Right then, dismount, those horses will be yours going forward.”

  With dramatically varying feats of grace they dismounted and the old horses were taken away by nameless stable hands for a well-deserved break. New horses in place, Riptide, Pavejack, Whim and Boats were ushered onto them for their own trials and tribulations. Or lack thereof as it turned out, much to Alter’s relief and resentment in equal measures.

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  Despite their lack of experience, the squad was picking up the basic riding techniques quite well, even Alter was able to build a swift rapport with the grey mare beneath him once his turn came around again. By afternoon the instructor was satisfied that they wouldn’t all immediately fall and break their necks if they tried something faster. After a swift lunch where each man sat with his legs spread as widely as possible, the squad was soon carted off to a stretch of well-maintained grassland a short distance outside the city. There they were reunited with their most promising equine partners for an afternoon’s charging about and skeletal-rigidity testing. Blessedly, there were no disasters as they grew more accustomed to the rhythm of canter and gallop. As the sun began to tickle the top of the city walls the call to halt was made and the weary men turned their mounts towards home. Alter chuckled to himself, there’d not been here a week and he’d started thinking of Osprey Hall as home, something to be kept to himself for sure.

  The return through busy streets was a little nerve-wracking but the horses kept thankfully calm as the sea of locals parted and flowed between them. A few individuals in the jumble of faces who perhaps recognised them from the Last Flourish raid shouted at them as they passed but their words were lost to the soundscape of city streets. Turning into the estate they made their way to the attached stables, where a butler was waiting for them to arrive.

  “Captain Alterfate?” He asked as they dismounted. “The Lord has summoned you and your lieutenants to the main house. Follow me, please.”

  “They couldn’t give us five minutes to remember how our legs work, could they?” Boozehound complained as he massaged the inside of his thighs.

  “It’s fine.” Riptide muttered through gritted teeth. “Just pretend you're wading through chest-high water.”

  “Ahh, grow up you two. Come on.” Alter commanded, ignoring the fact that his legs felt more akin to soup than limbs as he attempted to walk as nonchalantly as possible.

  It took approximately double the length of time it would normally take to reach the same room they had been debriefed in after the raid. Stairs were a problem. Oliver regarded them with a pensive expression as they tottered through the door and gave their best shaky salutes.

  “You’re all still in one piece. What is your assessment?” He asked.

  “We’ll be ready.” Alter reported.

  “I hope so.” His cold demeanour broke and the familiar sheepish half-grin appeared. “Listen, I got a little worked up yesterday. I hope you didn’t take it personally.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Thank you. Now, you’re not the only ones that have been busy today. Take a look.” Oliver indicated a bundle of papers that had been collected on the table. “I’ve had two copies of the local maps made, both are marked with the target’s most likely route. More important, perhaps, are these letters.” With a flourish, he pulled a pair of wax sealed envelopes from a jacket pocket.

  “Official documentation?” Riptide asked.

  Oliver nodded. “Indeed. The first one is your ‘Authority of Movement’ paper. Gates, checkpoints, patrols, there are a number of places where you may be halted and questioned. This will get you through.” He placed the letter next to the maps gently.

  “That’ll certainly help open a lot of doors, no pun intended. However, we’re not exactly official looking, there are some that might still stop us.” Alter cautioned to which the young lord nodded.

  “That’s where this comes in.” He held up the other letter. “‘Authority of Control’, signed by my own hand. Use this in case you need to take command of a situation or location. For example, if the leader of a checkpoint is on my uncle’s side of the board and attempts to stop you. Supplant them.”

  The command team gave each other astonished glances, that was a powerful document. A fact that Oliver seemed perfectly aware of as he leaned forwards with a serious look.

  “This seal is not to be broken lightly, Captain. It represents the faith and trust I am placing in you. Do not abuse that fact. This goes in your deepest, most secure pocket and it never sees daylight until unavoidably necessary. The Four only know how much our opponents would sacrifice to get their hands on one of these.”

  “Are you certain you want to give us this? We can always move around any obstacles.” Alter shifted self-consciously under the weight of Oliver’s attention.

  “Do you doubt my decision?” Oliver’s head tilted gently to the side.

  “No.” Alter quickly dropped his protest.

  “Then take it.” Oliver straightened up again. “In addition, I’ll be sending an extra man along with you who will help you in your task. He’ll look after the horses as you go. They’re as loyal as I can get at such short notice, just remember not to say too much around them.”

  “I appreciate it, it’s a relief to know the horses will have an expert taking care of them. I’ll make sure the letters stay unmentioned.” Alter nodded.

  “Excellent. Then take these documents, stash them away, and have a very gentle evening. The staff at the hall will wake you at first light, and your horses will be ready to go as soon as you are. Dismissed.” Oliver nodded respectfully to them and hurriedly slipped through a side door.

  Alter immediately stepped forward and scooped the letters into his arms before delicately hiding them in the folds of his clothes. The other two both secured maps and together they made their way out of the main building. Back in Osprey Hall there was a quiet but excited feeling as the squad were served their evening meal. True to her word, Morgan had also been busy. Their uniforms sported layers of additional padding down the insides of the trouser sleeves, offering additional protection against chafing without sacrificing mobility. As the plates were cleared and final updates given, a silent determination fell across the group as the shades of night drew its heavy curtain across the world.

  It was no surprise that each man sought his bed early. After all, at dawn they rode.