Nadal ob Insame did not keep both towers to himself. They were both his fortress, to be certain, but only the Southernmost tower was his lair. Nadal roamed the floors as he wished, maintaining the entire structure for himself alone. He could expect no intrusion save for the one level that contained the workshop laboratory of the fox Thadius Roth, and he could even do his brooding there should he choose to abandon his customary top floor. An entire tower certainly too much space for a lone weasel, but Nadal did not transfer even his most trusted officials to actual residence within.
The Northern tower, therefore, was overcrowded. It served as the barracks of a great vermin horde, teeming with wretched specimens of varying species, squabbling within the peculiarly vertical structure over who got the most floor space for himself and his filthy belongings. Yet not even all of the levels were reserved for the scum of Nadal's following. Several levels housed officers or favorite lackeys. One at the middle served as the galley, where thrice daily Nadal's vermin rushed in from above and below, fighting tooth and claw to be first in line, streaking back out to avoid being trampled by the regular stampede. Many often were.
Roth's architecture was ingenious—further showing its resilience by remaining erect through all the interior ruckus. Nadal's utilization of space, however, was clearly faulty. He knew this, but he did not particularly care about it. His hordebeasts were fully expendable. He instead focused on his more creative allotment of floors. Nadal was immensely proud of his dungeon, unconventionally occupying the top two floors of the Northern tower. Land creatures tended to fear the obvious drop clearly exhibited through windows; that and the knowledge of hordebeasts below prevented escape. Flighted creatures were instead taunted and tempted by the incredible expanse of sky, though freedom was much further away than it seemed. Fine wire screens separated the glass panes from the occupants, and sharp beak tips were capped so as to prevent their tearing through the mesh and smashing the glass.
Nadal was seeking somebeast, though not a prisoner. If a prisoner had been allowed the "privilege" of Nadal's mission, that prisoner might have had an easy way out. No, Nadal wanted a hordebeast. The gaunt weasel made a rare venture into the Northern tower, assisted in his quest by his second in command, a surly rat named Kaliban. The rat escorted his leader from level to level, allowing Nadal's sharp dark eyes to search the masses.
Nadal finally made his decision some ten stories up. Sliding through gaping clumps of half-witted soldiers, he approached a short and potbellied stoat. He rested an uncomfortably light paw on the stoat's shoulder, smiling thinly though the gesture was lost in his beard. Kammer, the stoat, gurgled at Nadal, not certain what to think let alone what to say. Nadal patted Kammer again, beckoning, "Come with me."
Kammer was ridiculously fazed by Nadal's stereotypical calling. His body slumped after Nadal and Kaliban, following blindly. They went back down the ten flights of stairs, traversed the ground between the two towers, then climbed to the top of the Southern tower, all in solemn silent procession. Kammer felt honored and puzzled at this venture in to Nadal's space, though his eyes widened in dismay as they stopped by the edge of the roof. Standing there also in straightfaced silence was Thadius Roth, who was holding a most peculiar contraption. Two sheets of glass of the most incredible thinness interlaced with a lattice of wire were extraordinarily cautiously passed from fox to weasel, while rat stood still and stoat trembled.
Nadal tugged at Kammer's arms, twisting them so drastically that the stoat winced and gritted his teeth, while trying to attach the contraptions to Kammer's own appendages. Eventually Roth moved to help him, swiftly throwing leather straps around the stoat's slumped shoulders and locking his paws into place with metal gauntlets. The device attached, Thadius backed off, eyeing Nadal disapprovingly.
Nadal smirked at Kammer, who was awkwardly flapping his newly burdened arms. "Well," the weasel said, "You have the right idea, it seems, though you look far more like a beetle than a dragonfly. What do you think?"
Kammer gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing frantically in his neck.
Kaliban approached the stricken stoat, nodding in agreement. "Cert'nly. But any'ow, let's see 'ow this here beetle does in th' air!"
Kammer looked over the edge of the tower and panicked, his footpaws starting into action. Before his claws could grip the surface, however, the stoat was heaved upward and tossed by the grinning rat. His doomed expression vanished momentarily as he instinctively extended his arms, as the glass prosthetics caught the air and lifted him, carrying him several yards. Kammer's face did not have time, though, to revert to its initial alarm as gravity dominated over lift after all.

*****

A large hawk curiously watched the proceedings. He'd never seen anything fly vertically downward before, particularly not off of a tower. The hawk glided closer, creeling in further surprise as his keen eyesight tagged the would-be avian as musteline. Very odd, he thought, and he resolved to find the cause. Broad wings easily beat the air until the hawk was suddenly bowled forward by a gust of air as he approached the twin towers. Squawking alarmedly, he maneuvered feathers and feet as he could to swing out of the current.
His plan failed. Whipped by the curious wind, the hawk flailed into the structure atop the Northern tower. Angered by the collision, the great bird struggled, clawing and pecking, only to find that the steel and leather became a restraint, holding faster the more he fought it. At first the hawk did not want to believe his predicament, though he was eventually forced to go limp with pain and disgrace, using his last strength to squawk raggedly into the wind.