Moonmount Castle - LGBT, manXman - ON HOLD

Prologue

The tall limestone walls of Moonmount Castle gleamed in the early morning light.

The castle was slowly coming to life.

The Castle Guard were changing shifts; the Night Watchmen retired to their chambers to sleep, replaced by alert, smartly-dressed Day Watchmen. Each wore light armour and black surcoats, with thick black leather belts around their waists, and their Master's coat-of-arms embroidered on the front of the garment. Each held long halberds to attention, and kept wooden crossbows and bolts close at hand.

In the kitchens, the Head Cook and his assistants were preparing the evening feast; freshly butchered cattle, pigs, sheep and pheasants were roasting over large, open fires. Salted fish were laid out on sliver platters. Dishes of butter, cream, honey and salt were ready to be taken to the Great Hall. Newly baked loaves of bread were cooling in the larder; pots of jams and savoury preserves were stored beside them, and knives were being sharpened in preparation for slicing the loaves.

The Butler was directing footmen in the removal of wines and ales from the great casks in the cellars, and the decanting of spirits into crystal bottles.

A candlemaker and his assistant had come from Moonmount Village the evening before, and were now setting out candles in the chapel, under close direction from the chaplain. The lamplighter was waiting patiently in the corner of the chapel, ready to light the wicks of the black candles once they were properly arranged.

The customary Morning Prayer service had been suspended, in light of the coming execution.

The chamber maids had been awakened before dawn, and were working tirelessly to finish sweeping, dusting and polishing every inch of the castle in preparation for the guests. The maids had made up the sleeping chambers and adjoining sitting rooms that would be required by the kingdom's visiting gentry.

In the stableyard, the Teamster was carefully cleaning the black carriage that was used only for the most sombre of journeys. Wheel spokes were checked for fractures in the wood, the glass windows were polished, and the interior was carefully swept out and dusted.

The grooms were grooming the team of six horses that would pull the carriage; manes and tails were freed of tangles, and black coats brushed until they gleamed. The feathers on the horses' hooves were neatly trimmed, and the harness had been cleaned and polished the night before, in preparation for the prisoner's final journey.

The wooden coffin – its surface stained black – was stored out-of-sight in the cell block, ready to carry the prisoner's body away from the castle to the cemetery.

Down in the cells, the prisoner was sitting quietly in the corner of the stone-walled room, contemplating the events that had transpired to bring him to this place. Two Castle Guards stood to attention in front of the cell, their backs to the prisoner, ignoring him completely.

Upon the order, they would take him from the cell and out into the courtyard. The gallows that stood always in the courtyard in front of the castle had been prepared for the execution; a rope had been secured over the beam, a noose tied neatly at the end, and the trapdoor had been tested the day before.

Inside the cells, the prisoner watched disinterestedly from the tiny window in his cell as the first of the villagers began to arrive. The entire village would be present for the execution, as well as gentry from across the kingdom, and King Benedict himself.

The iron door of the cell block swung open, flooding the dark block with early morning sunlight, and a tall figure stepped inside.

"Leave us."

Lord Theophilus Talvace was an imposing man, over six feet tall and of a stocky build.

He had been Lord of Moonmount Castle, and the surrounding lands, for more than twenty years.

The castle had been a gift from King Benedict, for Theophilus' service to him during the Eleven Year War; it was that fact which made the event of the day so shameful to the Lord.

After lifelong, devoted service to the King, the Talvace family name had been shamed by Theophilus' only son.

The Guards hesitated only for a moment, before stepping aside from the cell and moving off down the corridor.

They stopped a little distance down the passage, close enough to assist the Lord should the prisoner make trouble, but far enough away that the prisoner's last conversation with his father would be private.