Anyone passing near Westgate might eventually hear about the horses.
Not from an officer, nor from some formal announcement nailed to a board. The news seems instead to have found its most enthusiastic herald in an ordinary Blackwatch soldier, who has apparently decided that anyone standing still for more than a few moments deserves to hear about their new cavalry company.
"Horses," he says, with the gravity of a man announcing the discovery of a new continent. "We've got horses."
He pauses just long enough to make certain the importance of this has registered.
"Enough for a proper company, too. You know what that means? Means when somebody spots trouble well beyond the Keep, we don't have to spend half the bloody day marching there. Means our scouts can range farther. Means messages get where they're going while they're still worth reading."
The soldier has plainly given this considerable thought.
"Used to be, somebody could cause trouble along the road, disappear into the countryside, have supper, and probably get a good night's sleep before we caught up. Now?"
A grin spreads across his face.
"Now we ride."
He goes on about mounted patrols ranging well beyond the usual Blackwatch lines, scouts covering ground that would once have taken men much of a day to cross, and reinforcements reaching distant positions while there is still something there to reinforce.
Eventually, he folds his arms with immense satisfaction.
"Infantry's still the backbone. Always will be. But there's a difference between holding whatever ground your boots can reach and being able to decide where you want the fight."
Another pause.
"Besides, you ever seen a line of cavalry coming over a hill?"
The grin returns.
"Other fellow tends to notice."