Ramiel takes a final look back at his kingdom, its peaks and valleys covered in the season’s white blanket, before he moves away from it.
It is time to get the ball rolling on their relationships with the other kingdoms. He’s sent out envoys already, but these were mostly for pleasantries’ sake. None of the diplomats had returned with intentions of an alliance from the other lands. Not even the Tundra, their old ally from the days of the Blood Alliance, had seemed willing to retain their ties. It’s troubling when so many of the kingdoms are as quiet – if not more so – than the Dale. Alliances are necessary in this day and age, especially now that everything has been thrown into chaos. Gone are the days of light and dark, mythical and non-mythical. Their well-defined, labeled lands are now open to all.
He thinks some of the places will cling to their old habits, though.
The grey king moves northwest, through the hills that grow less and less steep as he goes. The great forests between the neutral kingdoms appear shortly after. He spends a little time exploring, but never wandering far from the path. He thinks Weir would have enjoyed these woods, dark and thick as they are, so different from the sparse, piney woods of the Dale. The creatures are more abundant, too. He recognizes white-tailed deer and foxes, but some of the insects and turtles he’s never seen before.
Well, that’s not quite true. He’s been doing a bit of snooping, to be honest.
It’s all too easy to travel as a ghost, invisible and undetectable by other horses. Ramiel had made this exact trip only weeks ago. So this time, when he reaches the Falls, he knows exactly where to go to find the kingdom center. He doesn’t, of course. This is an official trip and it wouldn’t do to simply waltz into the watery kingdom like he’d been there before, even if he had. In truth, he had wanted to check in on his brother. The burnt man had long ago disappeared from the Dale. Ramiel didn’t even know him (had only met him once, as a small boy) but he certainly wanted to. His mother had waxed poetic about the sabino for as long as he could remember. And being young and naïve at the time, he had mistaken her words for praise rather than affection – even now, he doesn’t understand.
He’d seen the way Tiberios’ leaving had affected Talulah. He had been upset in the way any boy would at losing his big brother, even if they hardly knew each other. Over time, he’d let the matter drop entirely: if Tiphon’s other son wanted to piss on his homeland, it was his business. But Ramiel’s curiosity had gotten the better of him. As a ghost, he’d watched as the stallion was made king of the falls. As he stands now, visible to all, he wonders if some loyalty still lingers in the man. If any trace of the former Dalean lives on, maybe he’ll be agreeable to a relationship.
If nothing else, Ramiel will know what kind of man he is either way, once and for all.
Ramiel
ghost king of the dale