The caravan we caught up with was not specifically in need of protection, for they already had a contract with a quartet of mercenaries.

We decided to join them anyway, for they were headed to the nearest city. There, Sandor and his bunch would probably find a caravan that did need soldiers to stave off bandits. The captain had a slight argument about the joining fee, which he was not prepared to pay, since it was mostly paying for the protection the hired guards offered, and it’s not as if we needed that.

The caravaneer did not agree, but was readily convinced when Sandor politely pointed out that he could either let the men join for free so the hired men would have an easy job. Or, he could refuse them tagging along, which would most definitely result in a much harder job for the mercenaries.

It was a tactic I’ve seen street gangs use to get people to pay them protection money. Only that involves a lot of actual threats and violence. No such thing came from the captain. He was extremely polite and amiable, never outright saying that he and his men had the power to take out their four hired guards in a heartbeat. The fact just floated in the air like a tiny, but very threatening rain cloud in an otherwise clear blue summer sky.

I am not inclined to think my newly acquired friends would have actually aggressed the caravan, nor their hired protectors. But the caravanneer was uncertain, and that little seed of doubt that was planted in his mind, essentially came to be our ticket to ride.

Eight, Sandor had said. Eight soldiers. It was still quite unreal to consider myself amongst their ranks. Yet, there I was.

When the captain had told his men I was joining them, Joseph had theatrically objected, listing numerous reasons why it was a substantially retarded idea to bring me along. Starting with the obvious ones, that were actually solid arguments against my presence. Word for word they diminished my hopes significantly.

Then these harsh truths were followed by some statements which I had not considered at all, and of which I doubted the veracity, like: “Vivian’s perfume attracts bears.”

Joseph was so persistent in objecting my enlistment, I truly believed he meant it. My doubts only rising when he diverged into more and more ridiculous arguments, such as: “The timbre of his singing voice will cause metal fatigue in our helmets and expose us to mortal danger.”  

But by the time he got to: “he will disturb biodiversity everywhere we go because his bedroll extracts all the slugs from the local ecosystem,” everyone was laughing, myself included.

I shot him a grateful look to convey my gratitude for essentially making sure no one would bring forth any arguments against my continued presence. And was met with a warm smile, that turned into an ominous grin after the shortest of instances. But it was enough.

I had not been expecting complete resistance from the group at their captain’s decision, but I had anticipated reluctance or hesitation. When Joseph had finished his rant, there was none whatsoever. I was slapped on the back and fist-bumped and so completely welcomed by the group, that it almost brought tears to my eyes. Even Twain was smiling brightly at me, although he averted his eyes when I smiled back.

“I’ll write songs about your heroic deeds.” I promised them.

“I don’t really care about that, as long as you’re doing that free booze thing once in a while.” Derrick grinned, whilst Gareth was shrieking: “a song?! About us! You’d do that?!”

“I believe I can manage both.” I replied with a big smile. “Now can you teach me how to use a sword? The captain said it was mandatory I could defend myself.”

“You’d better, with all those bears coming for your expensive oils.” Joseph quipped.

“Good, we have a volunteer!” The captain boomed over the banter. “Jo, you can start by going through the basics with him tonight. See if you can find some training swords around here and catch up to us later.”

Joseph rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed: “so I have to go shopping, catch up to you guys, and can’t even relax tonight… Fuck my life…”

“I don’t mind teaching Vivian tonight.” Twain unexpectedly offered.

“Great. So that’s settled. I’m gonna go and find you and your girlfriend some sticks.” Joseph stated, as he immediately turned on his heel and walked off.

Sandor was clearly not amused, but didn’t verbally object either. Instead, he used his commanding voice to whip everyone else into action. It took a second to dawn on me that this meant me too, after which I hurried along with the others to prepare the horses.

Andante looked at me like I was something humorous. I don’t know how a horse’s face can convey this emotion, but the way he gazed over his shoulder as I saddled him, truly had a mockingly amused quality to it. It made me wonder if he was plotting something.

As I finished arranging my belongings in a suitable manner in the saddlebags, I pondered whether or not equines possess the mental capacity for elaborate scheming. Based on of what I knew of horses, I concluded they did not, and was proven utterly wrong the second I mounted the bay.

“Vivian, wait! He’s…” Lionel attempted to warn me of my impending doom. But alas, I already had one foot in the stirrup and had just shifted my weight on it, hoisting myself up as the saddle shifted towards me. The unexpected torsion landed me on my back on the cobblestones, along with the full contents of my now upside-down saddlebags.

It must have looked hilarious, for everyone, including Andante, seemed to be laughing at me. My pride was hurt worse than my body, but my own amusement at the situation was dampened slightly by the fact that I just had this coat cleaned. Yet I couldn’t help but grin at the sheer absurdness of being pranked by your own horse.

“He was holding his breath when you tightened the girth.” Lionel explained as I hoisted myself back on my feet and started picking up my possessions from the ground before Andante could step on them. As I was sure he would, for the wilful beast apparently hates me.

“I can’t believe Jo missed this…” Derrick wheezed on top of his black thoroughbred, as Lionel dismounted his mare and walked over to help me out.

“You…” Lionel started in a threatening voice, which confused me, until I looked up and saw he held Andante tightly by the bridle, forcing the horse to look at him. “This behaviour will NOT be tolerated. Do you understand?” He poked a finger into the horse’s snout to punctuate his statement.

It was odd to witness Lionel use that tone of voice. Usually he was quite agreeable, his dark voice amiable and relaxed. Yet this commanding tone was impressive and befitting an officer. It did compliment his burly physique in a way, but did not suit his temperament in the slightest.

But what it did to Andante was even more intriguing. The horse stood obediently still. No dallying, no shifting of the feet to accidentally stomp on my shoe, no stepping sideways right when I was hoisting something up. He let me restock the saddlebags without further ado, and did not flinch as I tightened the girth. When I was done, the dark man with the glorious hair was already back on his grey. 

“What did you do?” I asked him, obviously impressed.

“Your horse needs to know who’s boss. It still thinks it can fuck with you.” Lionel explained.

“That man is a wizard with equines, seriously.” Gideon added. “But he does have a point. Horses are herd animals, they obey strength. You need to show your mount verbally as well as in body language that you’re in control.”

I nodded and kept his advice in mind, as I manoeuvred Andante next to Lionel’s white mare. I realised that if I am going to survive riding this bastard daily for the foreseeable future, I had better learn a thing or two about horses.

As it turns out, Lionel is indeed the man to talk to. He grew up around horses, since he lived with his mother and sisters at his grandparents’ horse breeding stable. His grandfather used to be a roughrider, breaking in wild horses from the plains. His grandmother was a Lord’s only child and had inherited the stable when her old man died.

Lionel spoke about his family with great respect and obvious longing. I inquired as to why he has left them behind, and he divulged he feels the need to prove himself a worthy man and provider by making money, fighting ‘bad guys’, as he called it, and travelling the world. He planned to take over the stable when his grandfather isn’t able to work anymore, or turn back before that if he finds his dream woman and is ready to start a family for himself.  

When we moved the subject back to horses, he passionately told me about how young colts are trained to become reliable destriers, how stallions are selected for breeding, and so much more. I’ve never seen Lionel speak so animated before. I listened attentively, learning some useful morsels that may help me get a better relationship with my gelding, and a lot more that is just plain interesting.

For example, Derrick’s black stallion Volor is actually Salinder’s foal. The white mare that Lionel so lovingly calls his Sally used to be a prized broodmare before he took off with her. Volor was bred especially for Lord Vonderberg of Caeth, but when his youngest son came to collect the horse, he managed to convince Lionel to join the King’s army alongside him.

This explains why Derrick treats Lionel like a younger brother, even though they are clearly not blood related and come from wildly divergent social classes. I had been wondering about that dynamic, but hearing this, it made complete sense.

I felt truly privileged to get to know these men in in this manner. Always being on tour has made it difficult to form a deeper connection with people than casual acquaintanceship or a passionate hook-up. Well, not counting Edmund, obviously.

I realised I did miss my friend Ed. As we made our way along the sides of the caravan, I wondered where he’d be, if he was still cross with me.

Probably. I left him on his own without any money and no way of knowing whether or not I’d ever be back. Well, at least I had left him Largo and the cart. He’d probably manage to make his way to Arken somehow.

He had seen the truth of it all too. Clearly he had not been able to see what I still believed to be the true extent of the bond Elijah and I had, in light of what was, in hindsight, fairly obvious. But how could he have?

Well, he could have listened to me. But then again, I did tell him Elijah would not have run off with our money, when he definitely had. Maybe, if it had concerned someone else, I wouldn’t have believed them either.

I vowed to find Edmund and apologise.

Just as soon as I have been reunited with my beloved Elijah.