094

Alt was tired as he walked down the stairs to the lower Bailey. The scene before him was coming alive in the awakening morning light. Fires had been lit to provide light and warmth in the cool morning air. Horses and men walked through the courtyard, Toltec and foreigners alike. Some of the foreigners moved with care avoiding the gaze of the Toltecs. Others walked with well-practiced avoidance, their eyes on the ground when they passed with the Toltecs or their own kind. Atl had watched this progress as the weeks had passed with the Eagles occupying the castle. The poor seemed to fall into the new routine much quicker than those that had something to lose.

Old master or new master, for them it did not make much difference. He could see the old bones in the way that they moved. Their place was a place of history, a role passed down to them. Which was why it was harder for the foreigners who had something before the invasion. At every turn their bones knew something was wrong, this wasn't the life they were supposed to live.

Sun glinted off of puddles in the cobblestone and on moisture slowly running down the castle walls. Atl walked up a two steps and then ducked into the entrance to the barracks. His eyes blinked as they became accustomed to the lower interior light. The interior of the barracks was a ramshackle affair full of furniture taken from the main keep and hastily repaired tables and chairs. The fighting in the barracks had been some of the worst as the some of the garrison had retreated inside to their stocked weapons cache. Doors and windows had been hastily barricaded at a point where any experienced commander would have known the battle was over.

Still there was a sort of honour in such a stand, even when it made no sense, perhaps because it made no sense. Old bones ran through everything and sometimes they killed you.