"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
Magnus nodded toward the other stallion and then turned without a word toward the border. It would be faster to go home via air (and he was, thankfully, becoming more coordinated up there), but since his companion was without wings, he simply tucked his own into his sides. It was good fortune that the Gates happened to be one of the closest kingdoms to the fields, and the journey was fairly short—making it an easy trek. It was one of the reasons that Magnus was able to recruit so often and so easily.
He wasn’t quite sure how the horses of the Valley managed.
For the most part, Magnus remained quiet as they journeyed together, although he did his best to pause and let the other man drink when the passed fresh water and answer any questions the other may have about the ways of Beqanna. It wasn’t until they breeched the border of the kingdom that he says anything, angling his handsome head toward Syden. “This is the Gates.” It was, for all intents and purposes, one of the prettiest of kingdoms—fall now in full swing with the leaves turning colors and air becoming crisp—but the scars of the attacks could easily be seen in the scorched earth and burned trunk of the Mother Tree.
Magnus raised his head and called toward Mast, their deer-shifter King who was likely somewhere near the pair, before he brought his attention back to Syden. “The King should be along shortly to meet you.” He picked up his pace again, walking them further into the heart of the land. “Is there anything that I can answer for you though? I’d be happy to explain how our ranks work, the difference between the castes, or answer any other questions that you may have.” It was the very least that Magnus could do.
They were silent in their departure, but he found he didn't mind the quiet as they left the field. It gave him time to think, and he needed that. Aside from brief stops to drink, they kept moving, and he found himself matching stride with the other stallion. He couldn't help but sneak glaces at the other stallion. He looked older in his eyes than in his stature - there was a wiseness to him that could've only come with age, but he didn't seem too much older than himself. And then there were his wings. He had noticed some oddly-colored equines whilst in the field, but wings were something new all together, and he wondered how many other strange equines he would meet in the Gates.
During their walk, he had few questions but they were vague - not the probing questions he wanted to ask. He had to remind himself again to be patient. He was sure knowledge would come in due time. It wasn't until they stopped - at what, he assumed, was the Gates border - and Magnus angled his head towards the younger stallion and spoke, confirming his suspicions. He turned to truly view his new home, to take it in, and he was breathless from how beautiful it was. Colored with the last remaining breaths of fall, a winter breeze ruffling the leaves, beauty emanating from the core to the rest of the kingdom. But, as he peered closer, he noticed something odd on the ground - scorch marks. They seemed entirely out of place with the natural beauty of it, and he made a note to ask what had happened. It seemed wrong that something that hinted at devastation would be in the Gates.
He returned his attention to Magnus when he mentioned another - the King. He would be a liar if he said he wasn't surprised; to have someone so high-ranking as a King come talk to him in person felt him with a certain sense of pride. This may be custom, in this land, but it filled him with a sense of importance all the same. So he simply nodded at this information, following Magnus deeper into the gates, making silent notes of the scorch marks that dotted the ground.
"I'm unsure of how your kingdoms work." He admitted, turning his head to glance at the winged stallion. "An explanation of the castes and of the ranks would be greatly appreciated." Now was not the time to ask about the marks, no matter how curious he might be. But they seemed to be growing in frequency the deeper they walked, and he couldn't wrap his head around how such a beautiful kingdom could be systematically burned without a care. He couldn't imagine who would hold a grudge against the Gates, but they needed warriors for something. And he was determined to find out just what that was.
I've heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord but you don't really care for music do you?
He was never far away from any of them.
He watched when they weren’t aware, shifting through the underbrush in his deer form. It wasn’t spying, more so being the dutiful sentinel that the kingdom expected him to be. He watched them flourish with a sense of pride, with a swelling in his heart that made his chest feel fit to burst. They were doing exactly as the Chamber thought they wouldn’t; they weren’t surviving, they were thriving. The Chamber had expected them to wither on the vine like a forgotten fruit. Instead, they were blossoming and bringing forth new growth and new fruit. It would take more than the Chamber to poison what they had so diligently cared for.
Summer was slipping into fall and Mast knew soon that the first leaf would fall from the trees. It would be followed by many more, and they would create the food that fed the forest in the long winter months. He slipped through the forest, turning his head this way and that to avoid tangling his impressive set of antlers. His deer form had become like a second skin, and he found himself turning to it for solace. Deer were simple creatures, with simple lives and simple existences. They were not tarnished by wars and ambitions.
He had known almost immediately when Magnus returned, a newcomer at his heels. Despite being simple, deer had a sense of smell to rival almost any creature. Closing his eyes he shifted back into his horse form, albeit leaving his antlers atop his head, cursing silently that he hadn’t shifted outside of the forest. It was much more difficult traversing the multifloral roses and evergreen patches in his horse form. But he made it through, but not without some scratches for his efforts. With a smile though he returned Magnus’ call, though he was already trotting towards the pair. “Welcome to the Gates. I’m Mast, king.” he said pleasantly, dipping his antlered head in greeting. He didn’t want to interrupt the pair, but the new stallion was asking of castes and rankings, and Mast felt he could be of some help. “Our castes are easy enough; war, and peace. Within each caste are four ranks. You may join one caste, or both, or simple remain here as a loyal resident- the decision is yours. Work hard and you’ll climb them quickly. Some kingdoms put all of their efforts into points and whatnot, but we value hard work, plain and simple. Recruit, steal, challenge, debate…all of those will earn you promotions. I’m sorry if I’ve been rude, Magnus.” he said somewhat sheepishly, though a smile lingered on his black muzzle.
This king was unlike any he had ever seen. Antlers sprouted from his skull, broad and strong, giving him a regality not many equines could ever achieve. His voice was pleasant, very warm, and put him more at ease - this king seemed to embody the feeling of his kingdom, the welcomeness of it. Mast, it seemed his name was, joined their conversation with ease, and he was surprised at the lack of annoyance he felt from the self-invitation. Perhaps it was because he was so kingly. It left something to be admired.
The explanation of the castes was fascinating to him, and he knew he would be drawn to war; he could feel the hunger again, the desire to succeed and be on top, to fight and grow stronger. And if he had to do the more mundane tasks, if he had to recruit and such, in order to rise above the rest, he would work. He would show this king and show Magnus - who's position, he realized, he did not know - that he could be a leader.
"Magnus can testify to the fact I have already promised to fight and serve for this kingdom." He dipped his head towards the winged stallion, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "I will join the war caste, if you will allow, and I will work to be a strong soldier worthy of your kingdom." Swearing fealty did not come hard to him. The words rolled off his tongue, tone giving nothing away, only allowing the strength of his tone and the solemness of his promise.
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
Magnus is not surprised when Mast returns his call, and his lacerated lips twitch into a ghost of a smile as he watches the antlered-king trot toward them. Giving a militaristic nod, he fell silent, listening as Mast navigated through the complexities of a kingdom’s working with ease. At his apology, he just laughed, the sound rich and warm in his throat. “No apologies needed, Mast.” Magnus may have a short fuse, but he was not quick to offense—not among friends, at least. “You explained it far better than I could.”
His attention is drawn back toward the new recruit, and his gold-flecked eyes light up as he listens to him. Glancing to Mast, he simply smiles, his lips a little tight. “I figured we could use all of the soldiers we could find. I was lucky to run across Syden in the field today.” Luckier still that the stallion had taken him up on his offer instead of going toward the harsher, perhaps more intriguing climate of the Tundra.
Meeting Syden’s eyes, he sobered a little. “He has indeed given his word that he would serve the Gates,” and he would hold him to that promise, “but I don’t think we need to be concerned about whether or not he will be a strong soldier.” Magnus winked at him lightly. “The Gates’ General has a tendency to push even the newest of warriors to fight their best, and Syden doesn’t look too green behind the ears to me.”
It was easy to slip back into the position of General—it felt like a second skin. Magnus was determined to fashion an army out of the skeletal bodies they had now. He would not let them be caught unaware, and he certainly wouldn’t be content to let his soldiers be a ragtag team. If that meant mocking, drilling, or just giving pointers, he would do everything that he could to whip them into shape.
11-25-2015, 12:13 AM (This post was last modified: 11-25-2015, 12:16 AM by decypher code.)
He would be a liar if he said he didn't feel almost..humbled by the fact they needed warriors here. He was a proud stallion who knew how to act, and rarely did he feel humbled - but right now was an exception. His eyes met Magnus's before returning to Mast, keeping an ear trained on the pair. He heard the somberness in the voice of the winged stallion, turning his nose towards Magnus in time to catch his wink. His tone was that of a military commander, now, and he got the feeling that if his promise had the possibility of being broken, Magnus would make him regret it, And he knew that there were things worse than death.
A chuckle slipped past his lips, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I can promise you that I'm not green behind the ears." His tone was rather wry, tail flicking around his ankles briefly. "And I hope your General is tough. It makes for strong soldiers and stronger trust between the army." He was, as of now, unaware of the fact the one who brought him here would be his leader, but he already had immense respect for the two men before him. "And your king," his head dipped towards Mast, winking at the antlered stallion; "Seems more than fit to command the strongest of armies."
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