Read Online The Silver Tower (The Age of Dawn Book 3) by Everet Martins - Free Book Online

built around a practice yard, forming the shape of a rectangle with one of the longer sides missing. Thankfully, the practice yard was empty this late in the afternoon. He was dreading having to walk by the men training, likely having another good laugh at his expense. No doubt, luck was on his side today.
    A row of wooden figures stood in a line on one side of the cobbled path, holding wooden swords and shields, filled with gouges and scratches. On the other side of the path were a series of targets bursting with hay and bristling with arrows. Along the walls bright swords, shields, bows, and spears lay in perfect lines in well used racks. A flag snapped in the wind high atop an iron pole, bearing a golden sun on white, the Midgaard standard.
    He readjusted the worn leather straps around his shoulder and torso that secured Corpsemaker to his back. He wouldn’t go anywhere without his beloved axe, his father’s gift for his fourteenth year. It had served him well so far. How long ago had that been? At least five years, he reckoned. Anyway, enough messing around. He didn’t have all day.
    His fist rapped on the door, echoing from within. He raised his fist to bang on the door again and then it opened.
    “Grimbald, I’m glad you came,” Field Marshall Jast said, offering his hand. Grimbald did his best not to crush it in his grip. “Do come in,” Jast waved.
    Grimbald nodded, ducking low through the door and into the middle of a brown stone, pristine hall.
    At either end of the long hallway were open doors with floor to ceiling bunks, mostly empty. Even from here, Grimbald could see the sleeping quarters were enormous. Must get mighty foul in there after bean supper.
    “This way,” Jast said with an air of command, his voice gruff.
    Grimbald followed Jast down the main hall, his armored boots echoing and clinking with every step. He had a long sword on his hip with golden braids arcing down around the gilded scabbard. They passed offices with the names of distinguished generals on silvery name plates hanging above the doors. Paintings depicting long dead generals lined the walls along with obituaries detailing their wartime achievements. They passed a few weapons that caught Grimbald’s eye, heavily gemmed and appearing to be worth more than the entire building.
    Jast slipped through a door and into an office bearing his name, plopping himself into a rigid chair. The walls were covered with maps of the most detail Grimbald had ever seen.
    “We have excellent cartographers in Midgaard,” Jast said. “Most finely trained. Please, take a seat.”
    Grimbald slid the chair away from Jast’s polished desk, giving himself room for his legs. He sat on the edge, shifting to one side of his ass.
    Jast stroked one of his flowing mustaches. “Grimbald, thank you for coming to see me. You fought wonderfully against the Death Spawn. I witnessed your fearless assault on the Lord of Death… and I’d decided you’d be an asset to our ranks.”
    “Oh really? I’m confused. You told me before that because King Ezra had accused us—me— of treason that I’d no longer be considered by the Falcon’s rules of admittance,” Grimbald said, rubbing at his scruffy beard.
    “That is true, yes…” Jast started twirling two lengths of mustaches between his fingers. “Well, I was able to pull some strings and I’ve found a position for you, as an officer no less,” Jast said, eyebrows bobbing.
    “Really? Why? I mean, that’s great,” Grimbald stammered. Today really was his lucky day. His dream was unfolding and becoming real before his very eyes. But somehow it felt less glorious than he’d thought it would.
    “Yes, really. You’ve proven yourself a fierce warrior and that’s what I need in my officers. Too many had scarcely seen battle, and many of which I’m sad to report fled at the sight of the Death Spawn.”
    “I see, but—”
    “The pay is great, you’ll get to stay here in the bunks for free. Where are you