Kings and Queens/Fenton III

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Fenton

The three bodies were discovered four days and nights ago. It was High Brothers Sirius and Fyr who came across them whilst walking the perimeter of the Arms Prison. High Commander Fenton thought back to the hour he heard the news.

He was awoken by his helper, Little Brother Ainsley. It was dawn, cold and dark in his cabin. After he was properly awake, he ordered the boy to get him some warm ale and soft bread to wake him. As disgusting as warm ale was, it was the only thing that awoke Fenton. While he ate the soft, freshly cooked bread, he got himself washed and dressed. He listened to Ainsley's story while he prepared himself. The boy hadn't been told much, but knew that three of the prisoners were found dead by the two High Brothers. It was Ser Hugo that instructed the boy to bring the High Commander. Once fully dressed, he drowned the warm ale in one large gulp. The grogginess of his slumber had worn off, and now he was prepared to inspect the three bodies.
He walked outside of his own cabin, thankfully, the snow had stopped, but the winds still roared. According to Magister Hayes, Spring was coming to an end, and soon, Summer would be upon them all. The Brotherhood were properly equipped with fodder, drink and other provisions required. When Fenton was born, it was during the shortest summer. Only three years. Autumn was longer, lasting for ten, then Winter came for four years. And then the seasons changed, repeating the cycle. Spring had past its time, however, and soon, summer would be back. The Magister has no idea how long Summer would last, but knew that it would the sunniest and clearest skies anyone in Fantasica had ever seen.

The High Commander and his helper reached the Arms Guardhouse where three Brothers were waiting on horses, with two to spare. As they approached the brothers on their horses, all three bowed their heads, lowly. High Commander Fenton nodded towards the other horse and spoke.
"Saddle this one up for yourself, Ainsley. You are coming with us."

Little Brother Ainsley let out a whimper. Fenton sighed and turned around. He clapped the boy on his shoulder, softly.
"Come on lad, you don't want to be a Little Brother forever. You need to see the prison. Do you really want to serve this old trout forever?" Fenton spoke in a whisper. He always like the boy, and treated him like he was his own kin.

Ainsley bit his lip, but eventually nodded and went to saddle up his horse. Fenton took the tallest of the two remaining horses and hoisted himself up on the horse. The horse was a male, and he was beautiful. His fur was soft and black in color. As he got himself up on the horse, one of the Brothers leaned over to speak to Fenton.
"Excuse me for intervening, High Commander, but are you sure the boy is ready to see a dead body, let alone three?" He spoke with an accent from the Ocean Lands. Those voices were always high-pitched. Fenton couldn't remember the lad's name, however. He was a Brother, however, wearing a leather-stitched robe of a Brother who practices medicine and healing. He had grey eyes and dark brown hair. He couldn't have been older than thirty, at least.

"What's your name, lad?" Fenton asked, after looking the lad over thoroughly.
He looked aghast at Fenton for forgetting his name, alas he answered. "It's Abel, High Commander, Ser", he spoke almost in a whine.

Fenton nodded and responded almost immediately. "Well, Brother Abel, Little Brother Ainsley is my helper, as a Knight requires a squire. It is good of you to feel worrisome for the boy, but he is thirteen, and soon will be a man grown. He needs to see a dead body some time, lest he'll always be my squire."
And with that, Fenton set off at a trot, with his four brothers close behind. As they trotted past, several brothers waved up to the High Commander and his small garrison. Fenton nodded curtly down to them. As they reached the Gate, one of the Gate Guards blew a horn, which signalled to other brothers of the Arms who were in the prison, that more brothers were joining them. After blowing the horn, the Gate Guard turned the wheel dial to open the Gate. It took the guard a few minutes of huffing and puffing, but he eventually got the gate opened. Fenton nodded his thanks to the Gate Guard and trotted through the gates, with his men close behind.

Dependant on the number of the party, it took ten minutes by horse to get to the outdoor prison camp, and twenty five on foot. Luckily, they were on horseback, and Fenton was in quite a hurry to see the three dead prisoners, so he told his horse to trot quite quickly. According to religion legend, those who respected the way of the Horse Lords were able to speak to horses, physically an emotionally. Fenton himself was raised in Mondrew's Lands and followed the religion of the High Lord Above. However, during his many years spent in the Brotherhood, he had become accustomed to ways of the Horse Lords. He especially like the Warrior Lord, Williward.
Slowing down to a slow walk, Fenton and his men reached the entrance of the Prison. Pigs oinked and got out of the way, scared that the horses would trod on them. Livestock was increasing daily in the prison, much to Fenton's annoyance. Prisoners, however, were less. They currently housed two hundred and eighty nine prisoners. They had executed twenty in the past year. Executions were only required if the crime was too ill to speak of. Some prisoners served a life sentence, some were only punished for several years. Men and women were normally separated, but they found their way into each other's arms. Procreating was forbidden, however, and was punishable by death. There had only been one hundred reported cases of childbirths, however. All before Fenton's time, thankfully. He had no clue if he could ever stomach a trial of killing the mother and father, before sending their infant daughter or son away.

Fenton wheeled his horse to the right, ignoring the rude gestures of some male prisoners. Albeit their circumstances, they were properly equipped. Tents, linen for clothes, seeds and fresh water were given to them, alongside livestock. Of course, they didn't have much land. To the south was the gate, separating them from Woesien. And to the north was the most poisonous and largest bushels in all of history. According to legend, it never died and for every year it stood, it became even more poisonous. It surrounded all of the land, making it an unbreachable prison. Sure, you could try to dig yourself out, but it would never work, as the poison grows right under the bushels.
The raw stench of bodies decaying allowed Fenton to realise that they were nearing the dead prisoners. He slowed his steed to a slow walk, signalling to his brothers and cohorts to do the same. After a few minutes of a slow walk through the camp in silence, Fenton caught a sight of the Watchers coat-of-arms flying high in the brisk wind, a grey background, with a black strip through the middle and a grey diamond atop.

As he approached the bodies, the brothers standing beside him bowed down to him. He climbed off his mount and waved them away, the brothers standing up. All five brothers did so. Fenton's companions stood close to him. He was now rather cold, and wanted this to be over with as quick as possible. He glanced down to the bodies. All three were males, and their wounds were clear; throats slit by a sharp knife, perhaps as small as a butchers knife. They were decaying slowly now. It was clear that they had been dead for longer than two days. He turned to High Brother Jameson.
"Have you spoken to any prisoners yet who may have known them?"

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