Castor hated waking up while it was still dark. He jumped up out of his haypile bed as soon as Balstur called, he'd learned the hard way that the second call was accompanied by a bucket of water. Cold wet hay was not something he wanted to sleep on, especially as at this time of year it could take weeks to dry out. To be completely honest he didn't want to sleep on warm dry hay either. Where he wanted to sleep was a soft goose down bed, warmed by a soft and willing young lady. But so far in his short miserable life, the closest he'd come to that was soiling his trews behind a hay-rick before a drunken but willing young maid could remove them. That warm Lightfest evening still haunted him every time he saw the housemaids laughing and pointing his way.
Blearly eyed he stumbled over to the barrel of water in the corner and popped his fist through the thin layer of ice that had formed over the top. Gingerly he scooped a handful of water up to his face and gave it a swift wash, trying his best not to get any stray drips onto his nightclothes. Looking at his reflection in the remaining ice atop the barrel, he slicked his hair down with his wet hand. Once he was satisfied that no bits were looking too unruly he swapped into his dayclothes with lightning speed. He liked to think that he could change so fast that the warmth didn't have time to even think about escaping from his skinny frame.
Once dressed he descended the loft ladder and started mucking out the horses. Most of the horses seemed to enjoy his company, but one mean brute of a beast always gave him the chills. Darius was a huge black horse, thickly muscled over his whole frame. It was rumoured that Lord Aquila had won him by wagering his entire estate against an Arudi Merchant in a game of Shoots. Darius had hated every stable boy that Lord Aquila owned. The last one got off lightly, losing only an eye and his good looks as Darius bit his face as he was trying to feed him. The one before that died instantly when Darius kicked him, apparently annoyed by the noise of the broom sweeping his stable. Castor was the third stable boy in the not quite six months since Darius arrived. It wasn't a career that offered many prospects, but when your mother is the town drunk and your father could be any one of the hundreds of travellers that passed through Two-Ford your life was cheap. Certainly not anywhere near as valuable as a whole estate.
Blearly eyed he stumbled over to the barrel of water in the corner and popped his fist through the thin layer of ice that had formed over the top. Gingerly he scooped a handful of water up to his face and gave it a swift wash, trying his best not to get any stray drips onto his nightclothes. Looking at his reflection in the remaining ice atop the barrel, he slicked his hair down with his wet hand. Once he was satisfied that no bits were looking too unruly he swapped into his dayclothes with lightning speed. He liked to think that he could change so fast that the warmth didn't have time to even think about escaping from his skinny frame.
Once dressed he descended the loft ladder and started mucking out the horses. Most of the horses seemed to enjoy his company, but one mean brute of a beast always gave him the chills. Darius was a huge black horse, thickly muscled over his whole frame. It was rumoured that Lord Aquila had won him by wagering his entire estate against an Arudi Merchant in a game of Shoots. Darius had hated every stable boy that Lord Aquila owned. The last one got off lightly, losing only an eye and his good looks as Darius bit his face as he was trying to feed him. The one before that died instantly when Darius kicked him, apparently annoyed by the noise of the broom sweeping his stable. Castor was the third stable boy in the not quite six months since Darius arrived. It wasn't a career that offered many prospects, but when your mother is the town drunk and your father could be any one of the hundreds of travellers that passed through Two-Ford your life was cheap. Certainly not anywhere near as valuable as a whole estate.
