- warning signs ; any

[magnus]

you and I both know that the house is haunted
and you and I both know that the ghost is me

The Gates needed soldiers. Heaven knows that they did. The tension that was rippling through Beqanna could not be ignored and while Magnus was working himself to the bone in an attempt to ready themselves for it, he could not do it alone. They needed alliances [and who wanted to ally with a kingdom that had no army?] and they needed soldiers to be ready to protect the kingdom when it came down to it. Mast, Kronk, and Magnus may be strong fighters, but they could not hold off armies on their own.

They needed soldiers. They needed warriors.

So hope flares in his chest when he sees the strong stallion, riddled with scars so like his own, standing in the field. Hope blooms, and he makes his way over immediately, his golden wings tucked into his side. Two others have already approached by the time that he has arrived, but he doesn’t let that deter him. Instead, he just walks up quietly, his gold-flecked eyes burning as he surveys the group of them and nods.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” his voice was deep, whiskey-honey. It was the voice of a soldier who had learned how to play the diplomat even though it wasn’t his first choice. It was the voice of a stallion who had seen too much in this life and his first. A stallion who was desperately trying to save a home that was not his, but one he had adopted regardless. “My name is Magnus.” He turned his attention from the other two recruiters to the stallion in question, considering him silently for a second. “The ways of this land can be strange,” he conceded, before he asked what he considered the be most important question of all. “But you will get used to it. What are you looking for a home?” He just hoped silently the Gates would fit.

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.