A MILD FEST WAS IN SESSION as Latchlon Pierran pulled up to the fenced bulwarks of the Ivory Castle. He and his men had entered through the high gates of Calipsos few moments earlier, but upon their arrival, the Lord Commander had issued a dispatch order through the bugle of his squire. His soldiers had been trained well enough to understand the blow of the military whistle. And turning on their horses, the officers had ridden back to the Fort, where hopeful families lay in wait for them.
Latchlon had taken only the six Milites Captains and the Second Commander, Ser Thrace Draco, before proceeding onwards to the Castle. He bid Seth also leave with the rest of the calvary. The effeminate young man was crestfallen but did as ordered. Eventually, he rode together with the rest of the equestrian troops back to the Fort, and in the hopes of Latchlon's heart, to the Peace Manor. His intention was to arrive back to meet the young man sprawled in his bedchamber.
