Chapter 4: The Blacksmiths' Promise

EGORAVEN: HEIR OF THE FIRST UNICORN - The Novelization adaptation of the comic series

It started with a firm knock at her door.

Egoraven’s ears twitched at the pounding. Whoever was on the other side was determined to make sure she woke. Rising from the bed that still called to her, she groggily rubbed her face, noticing the darkness that blackened the glass of the terrace doors with just enough of a hint of light to tell her that it was still well before sunrise. Hastily throwing on her shirt, she went to the door.

“Hello—?” she croaked, still trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

“Let’s go,” responded Johar in an unusually stern tone that surprised her. She blinked with a confused stare.

“Have you already forgotten, princess? Your training begins now.”

The unicorn girl gasped. It wasn’t that she forgot. Maybe there was a chance that the entire banquet debacle was just a nightmare she had to wake up from. Her want to be a knight couldn’t possibly be real, and no one could seriously want to train her.

Johar stared back, and in his blue glare, Egoraven realized that, yes, this was very real. Her training really was starting. It was still dark. And there was no backing out.

 “Yes, sir,” she replied, throwing on the rest of whatever clothing she could quickly find and followed the horse man to what would either be the dawn of her victory or a seal on her doom.

As they entered the horse pen next to the forge, Johar handed her a wooden training sword, the matching pair to the one he held. Giving her wrist a flick, she twirled the weapon, feeling its weight as muscle memory from all her previous lessons took over. Meeting in the center of the pen, Egoraven faced Johar. Even in the dark, just breaking with the dawn, she could see that he stood before her differently, straight-backed, bare-chested, and stoic instead of the gentle father figure she was getting used to him as. What confidence she had in the familiarity of the wooden sword was waning as she remembered this was the same person who killed a Rakan and its handler with what seemed to be one strike.

He wasn’t a general in Kadaran for nothing…

Egoraven gulped.

“I want to see what you know first,” Johar spoke. “We will start with some simple sparring, then move on from there.”

“Yes, sir,” Egoraven answered with genuine respect rather than the formality the elves routinely demanded.

The life of morning began with the sounds of wooden swords clashing as the unicorn and horse man fenced around the horse pen. It wasn’t long until the noise of a city awake drowned them out. Daniel and Morgan did their chores, trying not to interrupt, but found themselves unable to help but steal moments to watch.

Reaching their endurance, the sparring partners finally ended their session.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Amadaeo snorted as Egoraven peeled off her sweat-soaked shirt and draped it on the fence dividing them.

“It’s okay, so far,” Egoraven shrugged as she adjusted the laces on her breast band. “So, where did you spend the night?”

“I went to the sheep field. I was certainly not going to spend another night in that cramped stable.” He leaned his muzzle closer.  “And Great Arias, does the fox snore. You can’t believe the amount of noise that comes out of that little thing.”

Egoraven giggled. “Considering how much noise comes out of him when he is awake, I can believe it.”

Johar walked up, wiping his neck with a small cloth. “Amadaeo, I wasn’t expecting you to return for a while. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were deliberately not being around to avoid deliveries.”

“What did I tell you about your attempt at humor?” the unicorn jeered.

“Indeed,” Johar laughed. He pat Egoraven on the shoulder. “Your niece should be commended for her work so far.” He looked at her. “You’re better than I thought you would be.”

“Thank you,” Egoraven answered proudly. “I was trained mostly by Prince Rillian himself.” Once, she would have relished the bragging, only to find her mouth now going sour at saying his name.

“I should not be surprised at the odd fighting style. I forgot you were raised by elves.”

“Odd?” Her ears perked forward.

“Yes. You have a habit of wasting a lot of energy being showy rather than effective. You betray your moves before you make them, leaving yourself wide open for an opponent to strike.”

Egoraven felt her cheeks get hot. “Oh, really?”

He stretched his arms. “Don’t worry. We’ll break you out of those habits before they break you.”

She grimaced at the phrase.

“Come. Let’s go a couple more rounds before we stop for the day. Even a knight in training still has to do their chores.” Johar faced Amadaeo. “Are you staying?”

The unicorn squinted. “Do you have deliveries that need to be done?”

A smirk crossed Johar’s muzzle as he swished his tail and leaned on the fence.

“Daniel!” he called.

“What?” yelled Daniel back from inside the forge as he peeked out the door.

“Do we have any deliveries for today?”

There was a shuffling, then a pause. “Nothing for today. No.”

Amadaeo nodded his head. “Then I am staying, which is just as well, as the shepherds can be quite the insufferable bunch with their incessant pleading for me to watch their flocks. And I think you need to be supervised anyway.”

Egoraven and Johar smiled at each other as he lifted himself from the fence and signaled their return to the center of the pen.

“Thank you, uncle,” Egoraven answered, kissing him on his velvet nose, then picked up her wooden sword.

She thought her days were full enough, but they were fuller still with training. The before-dawn practice was followed by Egoraven’s responsibilities for caring for the forge. The excitement of a new routine helped get her through for a while, but it didn’t take long for the rhythm of long days to begin to chafe.

Making sure to head her growing impatience at the pass, Johar switched up the training, moving from wooden swords to quarterstaff work. At least having to learn a new weapon distracted her from the monotony.

Daniel, Morgan, and Amadaeo watched from the fence during another session as Egoraven tried to handle the staff, having trouble finding her equilibrium with the weapon.

“You keep holding it wrong,” Daniel offered. “Hold it like this.” He pantomimed, positioning his hands. Egoraven watched, then imitated him, but still moved the pole awkwardly, feeling even more unbalanced. Johar stepped back and pointed his staff in Daniel’s direction.

“Why don’t you come here and show us,” Johar replied, challenging him.

“Oh, you know how to use this?” Egoraven asked, her ears twitching as the human entered the ring towards her.

“I’ve been training with one for a while,” Daniel answered. “I think I’m pretty good at it.” He stopped before her, and Egoraven found her face heating up. “Here, let me get that, and I’ll show you.” Just the mere act of taking it revealed his familiarity with the weapon. She stepped back as he braced his stance.

“Show me what you got, old man,” Daniel smirked playfully at Johar.

The horse man scrunched his brow. “Old man?” he scoffed, prepping his staff. “This old man is going to teach you a thing or two.”

With that, the horse and the human lunged at each other.

Egoraven held her breath as Johar and Daniel sparred, the wood staves striking each other with loud clacks. Even though their display was in full seriousness, they managed to fit in equally lighthearted banter, which entertained the unicorn as she followed them around the ring. She found herself especially studying how the short human moved against the towering horse man, noticing how Daniel used their size difference to gain an advantage at several points. But just as quickly as it started, the dramatic demonstration was over.

“That was wonderful!” Egoraven clapped as Daniel took an exaggerated bow and held out the staff, returning it to her. As she went to take it, he placed his hand on hers. Her heart skipped.

“The secret is keeping your hands loose,” he said as he positioned one of her hands correctly at its base. “You want to be able to slide your grip as you need it.” He pushed Egoraven’s other hand up the shaft to demonstrate, not noticing how her face turned beet red at the suggestiveness he did not intend.

“Egoraven…?” Johar dragged out her name.

She popped up, not knowing if her face could get any redder. “Yes, sir?”

“Ready?” He held up his staff.

She tossed her head, trying to shake off her flustered feeling. “Thank you, Daniel,” she nodded, glancing up at him.

The human gave a little chuckle and smiled. “My pleasure,” he answered. “Now go beat Johar’s ass.” Wiping his tunic, he walked off, and Egoraven found herself staring at his back as he did so. Maybe not exactly his back, and she felt her mouth go dry.

“Egoraven!”

Snapping out of her stupor, she gripped the staff and faced the horse man before her.

The training escalated as the weeks continued. What had started as seemingly straightforward sparring was now full-on combative. It was not as if Johar was deliberately trying to hurt her. However, he wanted her to understand although tournament was fun for observers, it was serious business for the competitors, using every advantage they had to gain the points they needed to move to the next round of contests.

This was brought home during one particularly aggressive session. Egoraven had quickly adapted to the different fighting style of the quarterstaff, their morning sparring a flurry of spins, thrusts, and parries.

But as a bad habit snuck in, Johar took advantage just as he warned Egoraven the first time. Flourish was prioritized over protection, leaving her chest unguarded for what seemed to be a second. With a quick adjustment, Johar snapped his staff into the opening, finding its mark directly at her right breast.

Time stopped as Egoraven loudly sucked air at the impact, the human, fox, and unicorn watching, all cringing with matching cries with her. Stars blinding her eyes, the unicorn girl collapsed, clutching her stinging chest and trying to catch her breath. Johar stood over her, not offering to help, as much part of the lesson as the hit. As the magic flowed through her to relieve the pain, Egoraven glared through her messy hair. “Can’t you pull your punches… just a little?” Her voice cracked.

He offered his answer by spinning his staff and returning to his starting spot. “Mercy is a luxury granted only by the victorious. Expect no quarter, for none will be given.”

Her head still reeling and rubbing the site of impact, Egoraven contemplated the words, wishing for the beginning days that felt so long behind her.

Even as she was getting used to her new schedule, the rare moments when Egoraven could get up at the same time as the rest of The Coal Horse were becoming a relished delight. On one of these days, she enjoyed having breakfast with Daniel and Morgan, as Johar had left early to take care of some errands. As they ate, laughed, and gossiped, whatever animosity the fox had toward the unicorns was long gone with Morgan unusually not talkative as he shoveled porridge into his mouth. His eyes darting between the unicorn and the human, Egoraven wondered what he kept looking at.

After cleaning and putting everything away, the trio went downstairs to the forge. Before they could set up for the day’s work, they noticed Johar was back in the horse pen, putting some finishing touches to an unusual contraption at its center as Amadaeo watched from the far end. Walking towards the pen, Egoraven’s ears perked forward as she noticed a horse tied to one of the posts. This was not the usual cart horse or high-strung coursers they were used to seeing. What it lacked in height, it made up in bulk, with a robust, muscular frame and thick neck and hindquarters. She gasped when she realized where she had seen this type of horse before.

“Every knight is measured by the horse they have,” Johar started, leading it to her. “You should have three, but the hope is that you will win others at tournament.”

The unicorn reached out, hesitantly touching the white muzzle, causing it to huff in her hand.

“This is Warking, a veteran destrier,” Johar continued.

Egoraven continued to marvel at the roan horse as it shook its black mane. “A real knight’s horse,” she gasped. “Wow—I never had my own horse before.”

Morgan tilted his head as he adjusted his footing on the fence. “Wait. You don’t know how to ride?”

The unicorn shrugged and lifted her hoof. “Never had a reason to.”

The fox twisted his lips as he nodded. “Point taken,” he answered.

The excitement of finally working with a war horse waned into the awkwardness of trying to master the basics of equestrian skill. “You would think riding would come naturally—!” Egoraven replied as she struggled to control the horse, which decided to make nothing easy for the unicorn girl on its back.

Feeling steady as they made their countless laps around the pen, Johar decided to up the stakes by having Egoraven carry a makeshift lance while at the same time still reining a horse that continued to not quite do what she needed.

“The very word ‘chivalry’ comes from the old language for ‘horse.’” Then he pointed to the odd contraption that still stood at the center.

Looking like a cross, two items hung on the ends of the pole across its top. On one end was tied a bag weighed by sand. On the other side, a wooden plaque was painted with a red shield shape at its center. As the plaque swung in the breeze, the pole began to spin slowly, with the bag acting as a counterweight. Egoraven continued to canter Warking, staring at the rig as she adjusted the lance in her arm and realized what she was about to be asked to do.

“Everything you do as a knight will have a counterpart on horseback.” Johar raised his finger. “Hit it,” he commanded.

Striking what seemed to be a large enough target was a lot more complex than she thought it would be. Warking continued to be obstinate as she tried to maneuver the lance, barely tipping the wood shield but seeing how little it took for the quintain to spin, swinging the bag perilously close to her head as she passed.

They continued to circle, tipping at the target and avoiding the spinning sack. Little by little, Egoraven was able to maneuver the lance enough to strike the shield until the blunt tip met the painted mark. Excited at her achievement, she let out a cheer for herself until she felt a hard blow to the back of her head. Startled by her sudden movements and surprised cry, Warking bolted, and Egoraven hit the ground with a hard thud.

As the unicorn girl coughed and spat out dirt, Johar casually walked up, leading Warking beside him. Dazed, she rolled onto her back and saw both horses looking down at her.

“And you’ll be expected to stay on through all of them,” Johar answered.

The training continued with the unicorn girl speedily picking up whatever skills Johar threw at her, but not without a price. The unicorns lounged by the river, appreciating the respite and looking forward to the refreshing soak. As Egoraven removed her clothes, Amadaeo sniffed at the purple bruises dotting her body.

“Aren’t you going to heal them?” he asked, concerned that maybe her magic wasn’t working as it should.

“No. I’ll let them heal on their own,” Egoraven answered as she examined the fresh, stinging batch. “That way, I’ll remember why I got them every time I see them.”

Countless hours of horsemanship, fencing, and lance tipping could not have prepared Egoraven for what Johar would add to her schedule, her nights as full as her days.

As they finished and cleared the last of their supper, Egoraven became confused as Johar and Daniel moved the table all the way to the galley counter side as Morgan lit the extra lanterns scattered through the room. She had been expecting a quiet evening with everyone winding down before bed, but as the three men prepared the space, a feeling of dread waved through her.

“A knight’s training does not start nor end with only physical endeavors.” Johar waved his hand towards the now-open floor. “The ways of the court are vital to your education. After all, you will spend more time presenting yourself to the nobles of the realm than at tournament.”

Her tail nervously twitched as Morgan sat while Daniel stood at the opposite end of the room, adjusting his sleeves and stance as if preparing for something.

Johar continued. “You will also learn etiquette, reciting poetry, meditation, and dancing.”

Daniel squared his shoulders and smiled at that last word, presenting himself. Egoraven swallowed hard as an uncomfortable fluttering tickled her stomach, and suddenly getting regularly beaten senseless by the horse man wasn’t so bad.

She shuffled awkwardly as Johar stepped aside and leaned against the table. As he crossed his arms and watched, she realized he was not ending the lesson—he was passing her off to a new teacher. She looked ahead at Daniel.

Sensing her hesitancy, he wiggled his fingers. “C’mon, I don’t bite,” he joked.

Egoraven felt her face get hot. “Oh, you know how to dance, too?” she asked, taking a few shy steps forward. “I wouldn’t have expected a blacksmith to know how to dance.”

“I don’t get to show it off much, but it’s the other thing I’m good at,” he laughed. “My sisters made sure of it.”

She took another step and swished her tail. Daniel smirked as he extended his arm. “If I had a sword in my hand, you wouldn’t be protesting this much.” He reached out to her.

“But this is dancing,” Egoraven squeaked. “Look at my hooves. I’ll hurt someone with them!” As she struggled to speak, Daniel wrapped his fingers around hers. She sucked in her breath, and her belly fluttered again.

“You’ll do fine,” the human answered as he pulled her towards him. “All you have to do is follow my lead.” His other hand found its place on a spot just above her waist. Egoraven felt her cheeks flush.

“Your lead?” She stuttered, trying to hide her face. “Are you sure this is right? You’re really close…” She found herself flaring her nostrils to pick up more of his scent.

“Well, this is one way to dance. This is called a waltz.” Daniel straightened his back. “Look forward.”

It was the gentlest command Egoraven was unable to resist. As her eyes met his, she gave a silent gasp and began to shake.

“Why are you trembling?” Daniel asked softly.

“I’m not trembling,” Egoraven answered as her ears drooped, and she shuddered again, fighting the urge to lean in just a little closer.

The blacksmith gave a soft laugh and tightened his grip on her hand. “We have to work on your lying as well. Now, relax and follow.” With that, he took a step forward, forcing Egoraven to take a step back as he began counting out loud their moves.

Johar and Morgan grinned and shared quick, knowing glances at each other.

The weeks rolled into each other, turning into months. The horse man and the unicorn girl continued their work. One day would be spent in the woods fighting invisible enemies amongst the trees. The other would be racing Warking, collecting metal rings around a lance that could be carried without effort.

Then there were days of more physical combat where Egoraven would wrestle the much larger Johar and not help but show off her strength by lifting the always-surprised horse man off the ground. He never failed to scold her for it, reminding her that he may be able to overlook her strength, but the men who will be fighting her for a king’s favor will not be so humored. It didn’t stop Egoraven from doing it, as she liked hearing Daniel laugh when she did.

“Although you have been taken as champion by the Lady of Dallyn, you still hold no position in their household,” Johar would recount as Egoraven practiced her drills. “Every step you take will be earned in blood and sweat. Every aspect of your character will be judged. And any opportunity to dismiss you will be taken advantage of. High-borns only care for others who will add to their renown. And they will not hesitate to tear apart those who do not fit their ideals.”

When Johar was indisposed, rest was the last thing Egoraven could expect, as Daniel and Morgan stepped up to continue her training. Daniel was the most patient of the three, taking his time with Egoraven when it was his turn to teach. In the horse pen, they sparred with the quarterstaff, which Egoraven was still having trouble maneuvering. Thankfully, he did not have Johar’s custom of disciplining her with more skilled hits to force a faster understanding of the weapon. Instead, he would slow down his movements to make sure she understood what he was doing.

And when they weren’t sparring, the nerve-wracking dancing that started so awkwardly ended with Daniel and Egoraven gliding across a room that quickly turned too small, finding them moving their lessons outside, attracting the attention of the local bards who lent their music to accompany the odd couple as they practiced.

The pen became a popular meeting site for the locals intrigued by the strange goings on at The Coal Horse. The fox couldn’t stand the constant audience, preferring to take Egoraven to a makeshift target setup in a lesser-used field to add archery to her skill set. Morgan wasn’t strict as much as he was fussy as he drilled the unicorn in the proper way to shoot a bow. And each successful shot Egoraven made filled him with delight. “One day, you’ll win your own silver arrow!” he crowed at one particularly accurate shot.

Watching another session, Amadaeo, Daniel, and Morgan ignored the ever-present group of men that stood nearby, showing up especially when Johar and Egoraven trained. It had become futile to try to keep anyone away. After all, not only could you see unicorns at The Coal Horse, but you could also see them fighting. And nothing encouraged a more furious round of money exchange than a good wager.

As Egoraven and Johar separated from their sparring, the group erupted in a flurry of finger points and hand waving. “I can’t believe I lost another bet with you!” cried one as he fumbled with his purse.

“Seems unicorns are lucky. Now, pay up!” gloated another as he collected the coins owed. 

Daniel and Morgan looked over their shoulders and then at each other, chuckling at the gamblers. Amadaeo shook his head and snorted, the habits of humans making less sense to him the longer he observed them.

After an especially satisfying supper, everyone settled back in their seats as Johar placed a small stack of books in front of them. Taking one, Egoraven flipped through the pages, seeing drawing after drawing of ladies in elaborate dresses and gentlemen in court attire.

Turning the page revealed a drawing of a fully armored knight, making the horse man next to her nod. “A knight’s image is nothing without proper armor to finish it.” He angled the book, showing it to Daniel. “We need to get on this finally.” He tapped his finger on the page.

Daniel lifted his head over his book. “I figured. I’ve been collecting pieces that will give us a good head start, but the sooner we get on it, the better. At least we know chainmail won’t be a problem.”

Egoraven perked up. “I’m so excited! It feels like it’s all coming together.”

Amadaeo huffed from his spot by the fireplace.

 “Don’t get too excited,” Daniel chuckled. “We’re not making anything fancy like the suit in the drawing. Just something basic and functional enough to help you survive the contests.”

“Whatever you make for me will be perfect,” Egoraven answered, her gaze lingering a little too long at the human. Catching herself, she went back to the sketchbook. “All of you. Whatever all of you make for me will be perfect,” she corrected quickly, keeping her eyes on the page.

Morgan looked at the drawing in the book he held. “What about fancy clothes? She’s going to need fancy clothes, too.”

“He’s right.” Johar studied the pages before him. “We have to put together a proper wardrobe for you. Your suit from Duke Mercer’s banquet is a good start, but we will need to add to it.”

“I still have some favors we can cash in and some coin I can put in the pot,” Daniel replied. “And thanks to Egoraven’s help in the forge, we also made extra to put towards a tailor.”

Egoraven blushed at the news. “Oh, I don’t want you to spend your money on me.”

“It’s not a bother at all,” he answered. “Consider it as part of you earning your keep. You’ll be out there competing, and everyone will know your armor came from The Coal Horse, the best blacksmith forge in all of Ternam.” He slowly waved his hand as he exaggerated the proclamation, causing everyone to laugh.

“I can help, too,” the fox answered.

“Since when do you have extra money?” Johar asked.

“Since those idiot gamblers showed up.”

Johar’s ears perked forward. “Have you been placing bets on us?”

“I have extra money,” Morgan answered defensively, folding his arms.

“Fine,” Johar snorted, not wanting any more details. “Let’s get back to the sketchbooks. We’ll need ideas as to what we need to have made.”

Looking across the table, Morgan stood on his chair and pointed to the drawing Egoraven had turned to. “How about this one?”

Egoraven examined the sketch—a nondescript woman drawn as a base, wearing an elaborate hooped gown of velvet and brocade full of ribbons and silk flowers and a tightly laced corset causing an impossibly pushed-up cleavage. She cringed at the thought of wearing such a thing. “I couldn’t possibly wear that dress, Morgan.”

“Why not?” the fox asked.

Johar raised a brow. “That dress is from the royal court of the kingdom of Calliat. We couldn’t even begin to think of affording such a garment, even with all our money combined.”

“Dresses are uncomfortable to move in,” Egoraven added.

Morgan gave an odd smile. “Have you ever worn one?”

The unicorn was taken aback by the question. “Er, no,” she had to admit.

“You should try.” He sat back in his chair. “I think you would look pretty in a dress.”

Egoraven felt herself blush. “Oh—uhm, thank you—?” she answered in a bashful whisper.

A glint appeared in the fox’s eyes, and he turned to the human next to him. “Daniel would think you’d look pretty in a dress, too, right?”

The room went silent as Egoraven choked back a gasp, and Daniel kept his head down in his book, not reacting to the comment save for a small smile.

Johar stood from his chair. “Since you are so concerned, Morgan, the sketches will be around if she changes her mind. Now, if you could prepare my tools, I have much work to do.”

Daniel closed the book and followed. “I have some things to finish, but I’ll help when I’m done.” Egoraven hid behind her hair as he passed around her.

Amadaeo lifted himself. “I think it’s time for me to get to sleep as well. I will be in the sheep field if anyone needs me.” He nuzzled Egoraven as she kissed his cheek.

“Good night, uncle,” she replied.

Morgan was the last to leave, playfully blowing stuttered raspberries as he descended the stairs.

Egoraven lingered at the table, her ears drooping as she exhaled deeply. Her mind swirled with visions of dresses and armor and all the training that had come to this point. As she slowly slid the sketchbook away, she contemplated whether she was tired or overwhelmed. Was she overreaching by thinking becoming a knight was something she could do?

Her ears twitched as she realized Johar was still in the corridor, fussing with a trunk. With a loud creaking, the hinges sounded like they hadn’t been opened in a long time. As he rummaged through the contents, Egoraven walked up to him.

“Johar, I can’t thank you enough for what you are doing for me,” she spoke as quietly as her steps. She swished her tail.

“I wouldn’t go thanking me just yet,” he answered as he continued digging. “You still need to learn what competing in a tournament is actually like. Men are not known for their tolerance and fair play against those unlike them.”

Egoraven wrung her hands. “Is that why you are no longer a general?” she hesitantly asked. She watched the horse man stop, and his ears pin back.

“What I am and what I used to be is not your concern,” he sternly replied without turning.

“What you are is what’s allowing you to make me what I am,” she pushed. “Why are you a blacksmith now?”

She heard a deep sigh from him as he kneeled before the trunk. “I refused to serve under the corrupt sultan Zhar Raskal. My lands were seized, my family taken prisoner, and I was exiled.”

“What happened to your family?”

“I was unable to save them.”

Egoraven regretted her questions. “I’m sorry…” she softly replied.

“Enough of that,” he answered. Finding what he was looking for, Johar stood and began unwrapping what was revealed to be a sword. Egoraven gasped at seeing the silver hilt accentuated with red stone and a grip wrapped in matching red leather. Its gleaming condition could only have been because the sword was put away as soon as it was made. Her eyes widened as he handed it to her.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t possibly keep—”

“I am not giving it to you,” Johar replied. “I am making you its steward.”

Egoraven carefully took the sword, in awe of the craftsmanship and care taken to create it. She did not have to ask whether this was of Johar’s making.

“I no longer have an heir to pass it to, so I must choose who may carry my blade,” he continued. “As you compete, it is not only the reputation of Lady Alexandria’s house that rests on your shoulders. It is the pride of The Coal Horse—myself, Daniel, and Morgan. The pride of your uncle Amadaeo and your people. And most of all, the hope that your home will one day be free by your hands.”

As he spoke, the unicorn became lost in the swirling pattern of the blade, flowing like water the more she stared. Never had she seen such an exquisite weapon, and here it was in her care.

Johar’s voice turned serious, and her eyes locked on his. “Don’t ever think tournament is just a game. Too much is riding on your success. That is why losing is marked by the surrender of your horse, armor, and sword.” He leaned in. “Never surrender this sword, Egoraven.”

A chill went down her spine. If there was ever a moment proving that there was no turning back from what may have been an impulsive decision, it was this. Egoraven possessively clutched the sword to her chest. “Never,” she said with all certainty. “I won’t let you down, Johar.”

Johar let out a breath that seemed to release the tension in the air. He looked over this odd girl who, months ago, literally stumbled into his life. As she stood before him, holding his sword with reverence, he realized he may not be her father, but a father’s pride was precisely what he felt. “Now go rest,” he spoke with calm. “The time we have left has grown short. We will be leaving soon, and I still have your armor to finish.”

They nodded to each other, and without another word, Johar left, leaving Egoraven alone in the corridor. She stood, feeling heavy and weightless at the same time. Circling her wrist, she noticed how the sword’s impeccable balance was just as stunning as its features. This was no mere weapon, and Egoraven knew she could never treat it as such.

“I won’t let you down,” she whispered to herself.

The closer they came to the start of tournament season, the more there didn’t seem to be enough time to be had. The Coal Horse was a flurry of activity, from intensified training to the constant sounds of metal pounding from the forge. Even the most mundane tasks were performed with urgency.  Egoraven bounced back and forth from countless armor adjustments to never-ending tailor fittings as Johar mapped out their trek to the surrounding towns and cities that would eventually lead to the capital of Ternam itself—Varcyn.

Egoraven leaned on the terrace wall, looking up at the castle on the hill, glowing softly in the twilight. Her ears twitched at the din of the city, still not finding herself used to the incessant noise humans made. The night air was calming and helped clear her head, as did the rare solitude she could catch for herself. What started as months was now measured in days. She, Amadaeo, and Johar would soon begin their journey.

As she stared at the castle, memories of how she had gotten this far flooded her mind. She had tried several times to recreate Blackavar’s vision to no avail. Whatever magic allowed that link to happen was no longer available to her, and her heart was heavy with not knowing what was going on with her family back in Edinrahn. All she knew was that somehow, she could feel her father was still alive, and she took what comfort she could from that.

Breathing in the cool air, Egoraven remembered how terrified she was of this world of Men and whether she would even survive the experience. Now, watching from her perch, was a city that brought odd contentment, and she ached at the thought of needing to leave.

A light rapping caught her attention. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Daniel in the doorway. The tip of her tail gave a little wag.

“Hey… there you are.” He stepped onto the terrace. “Johar is looking for you. We just need to do one last fitting.”

Egoraven gazed back to Duke Mercer’s castle. “Do you know what the elves used to call me? The mule.”

Daniel walked over to her, curious about what she was saying. “Okay… Maybe I can see a slight resemblance,” he gently ribbed, resisting the urge to stroke her large, tufted ear.

“It was my price for being the ward of King Gardowin. The elves would tolerate me only as much as they felt would keep them in favor with the throne.” She heard him step closer. “I would try to spend time with the human servants, but they were enchanted, so their concern wasn’t really genuine.”

Daniel took the space beside her on the wall, listening as she continued.

“I knew I didn’t belong. But despite it all, it kept me from being lonely. Time would pass, and I didn’t think too much of it.”

“But you’re all immortals. I wouldn’t think time means anything to you.” He wondered where her thoughts were going.

“Immortal, but not immune,” Egoraven answered, contemplating what that meant. “I can be killed on the field as any human.” She paused, shaking her head, trying to find some reason and order for her jumbled thoughts. “And without the unicorns, the elves would be trapped in this time, unable to start their lives anew.” Egoraven let out a heavy breath. “I’m not even sure if I am immortal. I am half-human, after all.”

“What’s half of an eternity, then?” Daniel asked, causing Egoraven to smile and blush at his tone. Was it really the city pulling at her to stay?

A wave of melancholy then went through her. “I don’t understand why the elves betrayed us.”

“Wasn’t your stepmother involved as well?”

Lilith.

Egoraven couldn’t decide if she pitied her more than she hated her. “She felt Blackavar was the only heir fit to rule. They used that to make it easy for her to turn.” She leaned further on the wall. “That is why I have to return the valley to the way it was before.” Maybe if she said it out loud enough times, Egoraven could convince herself that was exactly what she had to do.

The blacksmith ruminated on what she was saying. “Change happens for a reason,” he offered. “Maybe putting things as they were before isn’t really a good idea.”

The unicorn tilted her head, unsure what to make of Daniel’s response. “Edinrahn is my home,” she answered. “As long as I am kept out, I will fight to get back, even if it kills me.”

She heard him suck in his breath.  

Daniel shuffled his position, scratched his bottom lip with his teeth, and adjusted his glasses. “Have you ever thought about just starting again somewhere else?” He looked as if he wanted to say more but stopped himself.

This time, it was Egoraven who took a sharp inhale and hesitated to answer. Why was it getting harder to speak to this human?

“My family is there. And unless the Valley is set free from the inside, I must do so from the outside.” She looked at Daniel. Feeling a tightening in her chest, she turned away, also wanting to say more but finding herself unable to. He shifted again, and Egoraven felt him press more against her.

Closer…

“Since that’s what you want, I wish you well,” he spoke softly, almost with regret. “But if things get too quiet… if you find yourself a little lonely… you’re always welcome here.” Daniel turned his head, and their eyes met. Their small smiles faded as they realized they were close enough to feel each other’s breaths, and all went still.

Come closer…

“I can always use the extra help,” he quickly ended and turned his gaze.

Egoraven followed his lead, not acknowledging how her wagging tail betrayed her. “Thank you,” she replied. “You have been kind to me.” She tilted her head, just shy of resting it on his shoulder. She heard him sigh.

“Someone has to set a good example for Morgan,” Daniel answered as they watched the castle at the top of the hill.

* * *

“We will be heading to the city of Taemyr where the first leg of tournament begins.” Johar gave the cart one last check as Egoraven and Amadaeo gathered, carrying packs of their own.

 Daniel followed behind, accompanied by an upset whinny coming from the pen. Nina pressed herself against the fence, the old pale mare reaching over as far as she could and vocalizing in their direction. Daniel looked over and chuckled.  “Looks like you’re already being missed, Amadaeo.”

The grey and black stallion rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why. We barely spent any time together,” he huffed. “I only tolerated her presence because we shared the stable.”

Egoraven gave a sweet smile, knowing how the mare had taken a liking to him.  “Oh, uncle. Don’t be rude. She’s a horse and doesn’t know any better. Go at least say goodbye so she’s not so sad.”

He gave a petulant snort. “Fine. Only because you asked.”

The mare perked up as he sauntered over. She gave out satisfied grunts and nickers for several minutes as they rubbed their noses together and nuzzled each other’s necks. Egoraven and Daniel watched with amusement.

“For a mare he’s tolerating, he’s certainly taking his time,” Egoraven giggled as she whispered to the blacksmith.

“I can’t blame Nina at all,” Daniel answered. “Who can truly resist the charms of a unicorn?”

They stood silently with odd smiles on their faces.

With one last huff, the unicorn and horse separated, with Nina not as despondent as before. As Egoraven walked off to rejoin her uncle, Daniel couldn’t say he felt the same. She turned back to him as she adjusted her pack.

“Thank you again for all you have done for me.”

“Our pleasure, Egoraven. Do well,” he answered.

A scrambling noise caught the blacksmith’s attention, and he turned to see Morgan scurrying through the forge. “And where do you think you’re going?” he smirked, noticing the fox’s quiver and bow strapped to his pack.

“With them, of course,” he answered.

Daniel tucked a thumb in his belt. “Are you really going to put yourself alone with them? They may enchant you,” he teased.

Morgan waved his hand dismissively. “Well, Johar is going with them. And who better to make sure Egoraven stays on point with her training than Doornham’s champion archer?”

He laughed as he scratched the fox on the back of his head. “Keep an eye on everyone, okay?”

“You bet,” Morgan answered as he trotted over to the group, with Egoraven and Johar happy the fox was joining them.

With a final wave, Daniel watched as they made their way down the road until they disappeared from view. Nina gave out a long, last whinny, making him aware of the heaviness in his chest. He went over to the mare and patted her neck. “I know, old girl,” he sighed. “If all goes well, maybe we’ll see Amadaeo and Egoraven again.” Daniel returned to the forge, hoping work would take his mind off the unicorn princess, at least for a little while.

* * *

The first leg of their route was quiet and uneventful, with the odd group walking the road for several hours. Farmers and travelers were few and far between, and when they eventually passed, they shared a doubletake or two at most at the curious scene, but nothing that would be considered worrisome.

Johar kept his handle on the pony and cart as Egoraven and Morgan amused themselves with wordplay games that Johar had to intervene in on several occasions to keep the fox from using bawdier vocabulary he preferred the unicorn girl not learn. Beside Warking, Amadeo followed close behind, keeping an overall watch as they traveled.

The first view of Taemyr’s walls came much sooner than Egoraven expected, even with their time on the road. The guardhouse greeted them suspiciously but not with overcaution as when they first arrived at Doornham, as stories of the unicorn princess had long spread that far. Egoraven still felt embarrassed by Johar’s made-up story but appreciated how it genuinely made dealing with the mortals of the realm much easier. After completing the formalities, they were allowed to continue their way.

Johar was relieved to be back on the road. “I was expecting greater resistance from the guards at the gates.”

“And they made drawings of us just in case,” Morgan added.

Amadaeo shook his head. “I don’t know why. I highly doubt there’s another troupe running around made up of two unicorns, a horse man, and a fox.”

The jousts were well underway, accompanied by cheering from the stands. Three elder gentlemen in distinctive robes, marking them as coordinators of the contests, sat at a table with large hanging shields with different match emblems displayed behind them. As they organized their paperwork and spoke among themselves, they took unsurprising notice of the douban who walked up and stopped before them.

“I am here to enter my liege, the Princess Egoraven of Edinrahn, champion to the lady Alexandria of Dallyn,” Johar announced.

A white-haired man let out an incredulous laugh. “Edinrahn and Dallyn? Now there’s a match.”

His seatmate twisted his lip as he glanced at the unicorns waiting aside with their fox squire. “What makes you think we will allow enchanted creatures to compete?”

Johar gave a slight bow in respect to the question. “Indeed, I do not expect you to allow such,” he answered. “But surely, if there were any reports of enchantments, you would have heard them by now. And I am most certain your equally well-trained guards would never have allowed us to enter this great city of yours had they felt we would put anyone in harm's way.”

They meditated on Johar’s words. “We have heard of your princess,” the third gentleman replied. “Duke Mercer has spoken of the unicorns of Doornham and, in an ironic twist much to your benefit, had nothing much to say about them.” As he spoke, Johar kept himself from reacting to the knowledge that despite whatever affront happened at the castle, the duke still seemed fit to claim the unicorns as his.

The center coordinator fussed with a small wood box, sorting through a collection of talismans and scrutinizing each piece. “Every noble has a right to compete against their equal. However, she must give us assurance that she will not use enchantment to her advantage.”

“I stand behind her integrity,” Johar replied.

 “I am sure you know what lies in your liege’s heart, but we, on the other hand, need physical assurance.” He pulled on the leather cord of the amulet he chose, displaying it. Johar signaled for Egoraven to come over to where he stood.

“Sorcerer lords require special precautions, and yours will be no exception.”

Egoraven’s ears twitched as she looked over the dangling stone carved with runes. It reminded her of the Raikashan talisman, but the magic she felt from this one was nowhere near as potent.

Amadaeo, however, couldn’t help but take exception. “You want her to wear that?”

“What is it?” Egoraven asked.

 “It’s a draining stone. It’s meant to keep the magic of the wearer locked.” His nostrils flared as the spell tickled his nose.

The advisor stood, presenting the talisman for further inspection. “If she truly intends no harm, then this will be a meaningless gesture.”

Amadaeo squinted. “Of course, you would think that. You have no idea what it’s like to have your magic forced dormant.”

Not wanting the matter to go longer than needed, Johar raised his hand to silence any further protest and took the talisman. “She will wear the stone,” he stressed.

Satisfied, the advisor sat back and prepared his documentation. “Good. Now, which contests will your liege take?”

Egoraven huffed and crossed her arms. “There’s no winning,” she grumbled. “I have too little magic for the elves or too much magic for the humans.”

“And there’s no real difference between them,” Amadaeo muttered back.

The restless crowd clapped their hands and thumped their fists on the wooden fencing separating them from the arena, creating a rhythm for their chanting, impatient for the next contest to begin. A herald dressed in colorful, flamboyant robes appeared before the mob that cheered at his entrance, and he raised his hands to signal their silence, but they did not quite follow. With a dramatic clearing of his throat, he started his announcement with equal flair.

“Presenting your heroic favorite, fresh from the battles of far Sendoah… Lord William Gilder of Nothernhelm!” The herald arched his arm towards a heavily armored knight who swaggered in, pumping his fists in the air with loud cries to rile the already excited commoners up. As he continued prancing, the herald continued.

“And his opponent, hailing from the far, mysterious valley of magic, the equally mysterious Egoraven of Edinrahn!”

The raucous masses fell into a hush, followed by whispers as the unicorn girl took her place at the other end of the ring, with her equally odd retinue behind her.

Lord William laughed at the scene. “This is a challenge? Surely, you mean to warm up my skills so I may face more worthy opponents!” The audience answered his boast by going back to their rowdy conduct.

Egoraven nervously scanned her surroundings as Johar gave her suit a final check, ending with a helmet heavily modified to accommodate her horn. She already felt suffocated in the full armor, with the cap and helmet making her feel even more so with its restricted vision. Her stomach tightened with unease as her breathing echoed in her ears. The herald came up to check the stone around her neck.

“Keep the talisman on at all times or risk immediate disqualification,” he ordered. She gave an awkward nod, which he accepted.

Egoraven followed the herald to the center of the arena and faced her first opponent with Lord William bouncing impatiently like a restrained hound. Barely hearing anything else above the roar from the stands, the herald cried a last announcement and signaled for the contest to begin.

Lord William wasted no time rushing forward, and Egoraven met his sword with hers, making the crowd delirious. They continued trying to find any opening they could to point, but neither would make it easy for the other.

The first blow came as a surprise to Egoraven, who felt it ring in her ears. Frustrated with the helmet, she pushed on. However, the more skilled Lord William was able to strike with two more points before the herald waved a flag to end the round.

With a frustrated groan, she stomped to her corner, removing her helm as her tail whipped in agitation.

“What are you doing?” Morgan was the first to comment. “You can fight better than this.”

Egoraven turned to see Lord William waving to the stands, confident in his victory. “He fights like a brute,” she gasped. “And I can hardly breathe in this thing.” She wriggled, hoping to find any relief in the armor that seemed much more comfortable to wear back in the forge and now was overwhelming her.

Johar quickly checked her over. “You’re allowing your fear to override your skill. Do you think this is going to get easier after this?” She flushed at his scolding.

“This is not working,” she whined. “The suit is all wrong, especially the helmet! How does anyone do anything in this?”

As the herald was preparing to call the second round, Amadaeo pushed himself against the fence. “Don’t waste our time with excuses!” he shouted, startling her. “There’s nothing wrong with the armor. Johar, Daniel, and Morgan worked very hard to make it for you. Don’t you dare embarrass everyone who has brought you to this point!” He snorted angrily, making her chest tighten more than fighting in the armor did.

The crowd cheered as the flag waved.

“If you’re going to do it, then do it!” Amadeo pinned his ears, and his horn sparkled.

Taking a deep breath, Egoraven gathered her strength. Her uncle was right. The time for backing out had long passed, and now it was up to her to prove her decision wasn’t a mistake. Quickly throwing back on her helm, Egoraven rushed towards the waiting Lord William. If she couldn’t outmaneuver a mortal, what chance did she have against dragons?

The second round went fast and furious, with the unicorn girl catching up in points with her opponent. The crowd went wild at the heightened aggression between the two combatants, ending in a tie. As they broke up again in anticipation of the third round, the boastful knight kept strutting but didn’t seem as assured of his victory as before.

With one more call and one last charge toward each other, the third round was as contentious, with each pointing until, in a last burst of energy, Egoraven danced around the exhausted knight, tapping at his back and breastplate with her blade until he kneeled and planted his sword into the ground, conceding defeat. Egoraven removed her helm and looked on in shock and amazement. Confirming her win with their mage-judge, the herald raised her aching arm.

“Behold, your new champion, Egoraven of Edinrahn!”

The stands erupted in a loud clamor that Egoraven couldn’t hear anything spoken, even without the helmet. Dazed but elated, she met the stands with a huge smile.

The rest of their stay in Taemyr was a whirlwind, with the contests quickly blurring into each other. From ground combat to the jousts, with her modest wins, the unicorns became the talk of the common folk, who were already excited for the tournaments to distract from their work. Even the minor nobles began to take notice of the odd troupe with their even odder champion, and for the first time, the crest of Edinrahn appeared on the lists.

The following towns were more of the same, with Egoraven quickly finding her rhythm and collecting various rewards for her performance. Word of the unicorn girl was also spreading, which helped assuage fears that might have risked complicating things. However, some prejudices were stronger than others, as the presence of the horse man and the fox sometimes proved to be a greater barrier than the unicorns.

Many innkeepers did not like having doubans in their establishment, seeing it as no different than allowing farm animals on their beds. Morgan found his temper flaring faster than usual as the trip went on, but Johar remained level-headed, negotiating stays for them. However, it didn’t necessarily guarantee the best accommodation. In unusual situations, the unicorns traded magical favors, like healing the owner’s gout or purifying a village well. Amadaeo found the bargains humiliating, but Egoraven took it in stride, reminding him that humans still feared magic enough to make those exchanges few and far between.

Egoraven sat in the dark at the small table in the even smaller room. Johar and Morgan had long gone to sleep in the one bed that was barely big enough for the three of them. The window was open to let air in and for her to see the stars in a clear sky. She fidgeted with a gold medal on a silk ribbon, one of the awards she had collected so far. Any other lord would have kept such things as mementos, but she was neither a lord nor a knight. As with the others, the medal would be pawned off once they entered the next city to help pay for their traveling expenses.

She looked at the sealed envelope on the table—another of the many to the lady Alexandria. Egoraven passed her time by practicing her writing, a skill she was sorely lacking in. Johar insisted she learn penmanship just as much as she learned wielding a sword. However, a sword didn’t cramp her hand the way the quill did.

One more letter filled with accomplishments done in Alexandria’s name. Egoraven made sure not to leave a town without sending one out. The longer they were on the road, and the more Egoraven wrote, the more her thoughts also wandered to the lady’s unusual handmaiden. Wondering how soon she would see Orchid again, Egoraven imagined the sun-kissed unicorn woman reading Alexandria her letters. Would she recognize the clumsy poetry in even clumsier handwriting was actually meant for her?

Letting out a heavy sigh, she twirled the medal between her three golden fingers, its fate a reminder that she had yet to receive one letter of thanks in return from either of them, much less any word of financial support from the lady. It was nights like these that made her regret, although Egoraven couldn’t decide what exactly she regretted.

A loud snore startled her as Morgan tossed in his sleep, and she gave a little laugh to herself. Maybe her inability to get a good night’s rest had a much simpler explanation than blaming the overbearing nature of their trip. Johar continued to sleep soundly as if the little fox wasn’t making such a racket. At least Amadaeo could get some peace and quiet in the stable with Warking and their cart pony. He had originally wanted to take his chances in the surrounding woods but was strongly advised against it, as bandits were known to roam there, and it was uncertain how they would take to coming across a sleeping unicorn.

Brushing the wrinkles from her underclothes, she made her way to the crowded bed. The least she could do was try to get some sleep in preparation for another full day tomorrow. Gently pushing the fox over, she squeezed in under the covers. Curling her tail and settling on her side, she continued staring out the window. Feeling the heaviness of everything crashing on her, Egoraven began to weep.

“Hey, are you okay?” she heard in a whisper as small fingers caressed her shoulder.

Feeling embarrassed, Egoraven quickly wiped her eyes. “I’m fine,” she whispered back, hoping that would be the end of it.

“No, you’re not,” Morgan continued. He kept his hand on her. “What’s wrong?”

She thought about faking being asleep until he stopped asking but felt guilty for even considering it. She turned over to face the fox, taking care not to move too much lest they wake up Johar.

Morgan tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You can talk to me, yanno.”

Egoraven smiled sweetly at him, then frowned. “I feel like I made a huge mistake,” she whispered.

“Why? You’re doing really good.” Morgan answered. “You’re doing exactly what you said you were going to do.”

“I know, but…” she paused, feeling tears at the edges of her eyes. “I feel like it’s all for nothing.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know how far this can go without Alexandria’s patronage, no matter how much I win.”

Morgan nodded. “That’s been definitely a problem,” he had to admit. “You’d think she’d be more aware since she’s the one that got you into this mess.”

“I’m not sure it’s just that.” Egoraven thought for a bit. “I’ve written to her so many times… I feel like I’m being ignored.”

“Oh.” He thought for an answer. “Well, noble ladies can be flighty and rude. Maybe she takes you for just another servant and doesn’t feel the need to write to the help.”

The answer mortified the unicorn, and she had to remember to keep her voice down. “The help? I’m her champion. Shouldn’t that mean something?”

The fox shrugged. “It should. Maybe her father isn’t letting her write to you. I don’t know.” He scrambled for other excuses.

Egoraven frowned again. “This is nothing like I thought it would be.”

“Nothing ever is, I guess.”

They lay in silence until Morgan’s eyes lit up. “I know. If the lady Alexandria is too up on her high horse to write to you, maybe you should write to someone who will write back.”

Egoraven’s ears twitched. “Who else is there?” she asked. “Orchid hasn’t written back to me, either.”

He wrinkled his nose. “She definitely won’t write to you if she hasn’t by now. And I don’t think it’s her place to do that anyway.”

“Then who?”

“Why don’t you write to Daniel?”

She flushed at hearing his name. “What?”

“Yeah. Write to Daniel.”

Egoraven suddenly became shy at the thought. “Would he like it if I did that? Do you think he would answer my letters?”

“Like it? He’ll love it.” Morgan gave a toothy grin. “Writing is all that big goof does when he’s not working. Every night, he reads, then he writes—letters, in his notebooks, whatever. In fact, I guarantee he’ll answer you on the very first one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” He reached out and wiped the tears from her cheek. “If you need to write to someone who really cares about what you’re doing, then you need to write to Daniel.”

Egoraven took in a deep breath, feeling exhausted but not as disheartened. “I hope you’re right,” she whispered as she shuffled back into her original position, feeling sleep overtake her.

“I know I’m right,” Morgan yawned, wrapping his arm around her waist and cuddling against her back. “You smell like roses,” he muttered, then almost immediately began to snore.

Egoraven let out another soft laugh and coiled her tail around him and herself. “Big goof,” she chuckled as she hugged her fur and drifted off to sleep.

Ecstatic cheers followed as they went from town to city, from contest to contest. And as the winnings led to higher rankings, the prizes became larger and more valuable. What started as speculative whispers now turned into meetings with various lords and ladies, all wanting the latest gossip and inside knowledge of whatever strategy Egoraven was planning for the rest of the season.

Banners and flags of unicorns became more popular as list papers were traded furiously, with everyone watching the rise of the unusual crest from a kingdom that was still feared but, at the same time, was also the source of excitement that hadn’t been felt on the circuit for a long while.

Wherever they went, stories of the unicorns abounded, much to Egoraven’s embarrassment and Amadaeo’s annoyance. Johar’s simple tale of a unicorn bride running away from a malevolent elf prince had exploded into its own mythology, with each teller adding their own exaggerated flair to the tale.

Even a basic meal at a tavern was no escape, as every bard had at least one song of the lady unicorn fighting for the favor of a generous king to free her from the clutches of a wicked suitor.

As the song completed and the minstrel gave a deep bow to the group, Johar rewarded the performance with a few coins that pleased the human.

Egoraven hid her beet-red face. “There was nothing true about me in that song!” she squealed into her hands.

“But it was a very good melody and quite a compelling story, even if it was embellished beyond recognition,” Johar chuckled as he continued his meal.

“Had I known I was going to risk this type of attention, I would have stayed with the dragons!”

Morgan laughed at her reaction.

 Amadaeo offered a snort and a nod. “At least our growing renown means I can finally sit and eat inside with you instead of being treated like a common horse.” He licked the last remnants of food from his bowl. “Although I would prefer not dealing with random folk running their hands on my coat every chance they get.”

“Your suffering is noted,” Johar replied with a playful smile, earning a glare from the unicorn. He then perked his ears forward as he remembered something and dug through his robe. “Oh, I almost forgot. I stopped by the courier office, and this was waiting for you.” He pulled out an envelope sealed with wax.

Egoraven lit up. “A letter? Who is it from?” She reached out, trying not to snatch it in her excitement.

“Look for yourself.”

Egoraven studied the script and immediately recognized the handwriting, smiling at the charmingly unskilled sketch of a unicorn head in a lower corner.

To: Lady Egoraven of Edinrahn

Ambermount

From: Daniel Broderick

Doornham

For a moment, Egoraven was disappointed that it wasn’t from Lady Alexandria or Orchid but then realized she was more thrilled at the letter being from Daniel than she thought she would be.

Morgan leaned over. “See? I told you he would write you back.”

“Thank you,” she answered and gently tucked the letter into her tunic.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” the fox asked.

“Let her read it on her own time,” Johar answered. “I have my own letter from Daniel I can read to you. And I’m sure Egoraven will be more than happy to tell us later what’s in hers if she so wants.” He noticed the blush on her face but made no mention of it.

Egoraven went back to finishing her supper, now with something to look forward to when they returned to their room. At least this time, she had her own bed, but for certain, tournament season couldn’t end fast enough.

* * *

The once regal great hall that used to ring with the sounds of lively dinners, dancing elves in lavish dress, and roaming troupes of human entertainers was now a shadow of its former glory. The main dais where elven royalty would sit was now occupied by Raikashan nobles flanking their distracted lord. Long tables overflowing with food and drink still kept their place throughout the main floor, but as with the dais, almost every seat was filled with the raucous dragons dressed in their own version of discerning finery. Along the perimeter roamed the more lizard-like Rakans, not really there to guard as so much to keep the remaining elves that ate and worked among the Dragon Lords in line.

Servants went from table to table, catering to the ravenous Raikashans, but where they were human before, now every one of them was an elf. Several teams came out flanking large serving trays with equally large roasts. Placing them at the center of each table, the dragons excitedly chattered among themselves, then heartily indulged in the juicy flesh with both utensil and claw alike. As much as they presented themselves as being like men in dress and demeanor, they had no qualms of gratifying their equally beastly nature.

Not all elves were regulated to serve the dragons in such an obvious manner. The main dais loomed over several long tables where Prince Rillian and his chosen retinue, made up of close friends and loyalists, sat quietly, not as enthusiastic about the meal as the Rakashans were. They ate everything else, purposefully avoiding the suspicious meat while equally avoiding the gazes of their enslaved kinfolk.

“It’s no wonder the Eihdans are always sickly looking. We feed them, and they hardly touch a thing.”

Bilakath barely heard a word from the dragon seated next to him as he shuffled through the stack of parchments in his hands, becoming more agitated with each turn of the page. But the words were clearly heard by the elves they overlooked, with one finding himself unable to remain silent.

“You dishonor us by eating Arisyan flesh!” he cried back at the dragons. “They have always taken care of us, and you turning them into mere livestock is more than offensive!”

An elfess seated beside him tugged desperately at his sleeve, pleading for him not to antagonize their captors. Rillian swirled his wine. As much as he hated the unicorns, even he could not find the stomach to make them part of his meal.

The dragons surrounding them laughed at the elf’s impotent indignation, not slowing their pace with their dining.

“Offensive?” Bilakath sneered, unable to take his eyes off the paperwork he insisted on studying. “You weren’t so concerned about Arisyans when your people let us in through the front door.” He took note of the elf prince squirming uncomfortably in his seat and felt a twinge of satisfaction. “This is probably the first time those horses are being useful for once. But I do not intend to make it a habit. As long as they hide the secret of the power of this valley, they are worth more alive to me... for now.”

“But oh, how so delicious they are!” one of the chamberlains cooed, dabbing his muzzle with a linen napkin as another chuckled, taking another piece from the roast. Looking over to his sovereign, the chamberlain grew concerned over his lord’s lack of feasting. “Lord Bilakath, surely your documents could wait for later? Unicorn meat is most certainly at its best when it’s fresh.”

Having enough of the parchments, Bilakath turned his yellow gaze to the elf prince, who spent more time drinking than eating. He wondered how long these pathetic creatures could think they could starve themselves out from under him. “Prince Rillian,” he announced, causing all the heads in the hall to turn in his direction. “The guards have found something of interest in your quarters.” He waved the papers.

Rillian’s eyes widened as he recognized the documents, but how they ended up in the dragon lord’s hands infuriated him more. Exploding out of his seat, he rushed to the platform, catching the attention of the raptor guards. “How dare you! I gave you no permission to rifle through my possessions!”

What little patience Bilakath had for the prince vanished. “Remember your place, princeling,” he roared back. “We are the rulers of this castle, and not only are all your possessions ours, but YOU are as well!”

He angrily tossed the parchments onto the table, where they spread out for all to see. A few of the scattered pages fell to the floor. Diagrams of shields wielding various coats-of-arms, emblems, and heraldry, all hailing mostly from mortal provinces, illustrated each sheet.

“What are these?” the dragon demanded.

Rillian flinched as he realized the common denominator of the designs, the hope that they had confiscated older documents evaporating. “You fucking bitch,” he angrily whispered under his breath. Picking up the fallen registers, he feigned disinterest. “They are nothing.”

Bilakath sneered, not appreciating the blatant lie. “They are tournament sheets. What are you doing with them?”

“It is a hobby of mine. What harm is there in that?” He rolled up the parchments without looking at them further.

“Either you are blind, or you take me as a fool.” The dragon growled, and the hall fell silent as all the Raikashans focused on the dais. “Do you not recognize the crest on every sheet?” He jabbed a claw at the design, almost tearing through it. A crest made up of a shield with a golden sun at its center, flanked by supporter elements in the shape of an elf and a unicorn. The only coat-of-arms not found in any of the kingdoms of men.

The elf prince twisted his lips.

 “Either you are adept at competing in tournaments without me knowing, or someone else is competing under this forsaken valley’s banner.” The dragon bared his teeth. “Which is it?”

Rillian refused to answer.

“There are several months’ worth of results here. Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

“It is only news from low-ranking tourneys and gossip,” Rillian finally replied, clenching his fist to keep from fidgeting. “I did not feel my lord needed to be bothered with it.”

 The steel grey dragon slowly sat back, a low rumble building deep in his throat. “Nothing—?” he growled, clawing the parchment his hand rested on. “…nothing…” he repeated, nodding as he turned to his flanking chamberlains. With a roar, he shot out of his seat, tearing through the paper as he crushed it. “The exiled daughter of the unicorn king is competing in tournaments as heir to Edinrahn, and you call this nothing? This was supposed to be impossible!”

Murmuring waved through the Raikashans while the elves stared in shock at the prince, servant, and supporter alike, waiting for any response that would hopefully keep the dragons from retaliating more against them.

“Egoraven is hardly a threat to the Valley.” Rillian continued faking unconcern as his mind filled with venom at saying her name. I should have chained you to a bed when I had the chance.

Bilakath reined in the overwhelming want to break the petulant elf’s neck. “But why is the Valley no threat to her? She is obviously alive and well, and that is part of the problem.” His tail thrashed, almost knocking over his chair. Tossing the papers away from him, he pointed at the tables of elves. “Leave! All of you! If you refuse to indulge in the hospitality of your new rulers, then you deserve nothing!”

The elves sat stunned, unsure of what to do, until the Rakan guards began to turn their gaze towards them. Rillian frantically waved his hands at his group as he trotted down the stairs of the dais, away from the main table. Better to leave willingly while they still have the chance.

The Dragon Lords watched and snickered as the elves scurried out of the hall. Bilakath did not share their mirth, especially as he watched Rillian snatch a bottle of wine and take a sloppy swig as he stared back at him and defiantly strode out.

As soon as they were gone, several handlers came over and began to throw the remaining roasts to the raptors, tossing the leftover food onto the marble floor as if it were an animal pen. At their signal, the Rakans dropped their weapons and rushed the bounty, turning into a pile of writhing armor and scales, greedily gulping and fighting each other for as much as they could snatch into their drooling maws.

Bilkath glared at the frenzy, his mind whirling with what this new revelation could mean. He turned to his head chamberlain, a sickly-green, pug-nosed gargoyle of a dragon. “Gieseth, meet me in the library. There is more to Alaric’s whelp than anyone is letting on, and I want to know what that is.”

Gieseth wordlessly nodded and tore into another strip of meat.

* * *

“The armor is holding up well in spite of some well-placed dents.” Johar ran his fingers along the metal of the backplate, noting where he would have to pound out the damage later.

“Lucky shots,” the unicorn girl answered, keeping her arms out as the horse man continued his inspection. “They’re few and far between.” She felt Morgan tighten some buckles on her arm pieces.

“Let’s try to keep them that way,” the fox added as he perched atop a box as he worked.

Amadaeo watched as they prepared Egoraven for the next contests, preferring being among the colorful tents of all the various knights and their entourages rather than in the open areas where the crowds were. At least the nobles in competition kept to themselves and didn’t feel the need to bother them all the time, unlike the commoners who almost fought each other to catch a glimpse of the unicorns outside of the lists.

“Egoraven? EGORAVEN!”

Hearing her name being screamed made Morgan’s ears pin. What other insufferable person could be trying to gain their attention now? Amadaeo turned to see a sight he wasn’t sure he was happy about. A young woman with silk blond hair and a silver and gold dress ran through the narrow corridor of tents towards them.

“Egoraven!” she cried again.

“Lady Alexandria!” Egoraven called back, startled at seeing her there. “What a surprise to see you!”

Alexandria jumped and flung herself onto the unicorn, hugging her fiercely even through the breastplate she wore. “Oh, Egoraven! I knew we would eventually catch up to you! How I missed you so!”

Egoraven hesitated in doing anything. Although glad that the woman who set her on this path finally decided to make an appearance, Egoraven quickly remembered how she didn’t quite enjoy her overt familiarity and insistent manhandling. She awkwardly returned the lady’s embrace as Morgan stood incensed on his box, frustrated that his tasks were being interrupted in such a manner while Johar continued as if nothing was happening.

“Have you been receiving my letters?” Egoraven asked.

“Of course!” Alexandria squealed and hugged her again.

Before Egoraven could ask her next question, another joined them, which made her face heat up and her ears perk forward. Following where the lady had come from between the tents, a unicorn woman in a dress of scarlet and golden ochre made her way.

“And she reads them to me repeatedly. I practically know them by heart.” Orchid fanned herself as she came closer. Suddenly, Egoraven didn’t remember the woman still embracing her.

“It is a pleasure and an honor to have you both here,” Egoraven replied, trying to decipher Orchid’s comment. You read my poems? Did you know they were for you?

“Indeed!” chirped the lady as she kept a possessive hand on the unicorn. “It is us who should be honored. You are doing a great service to the name of my lands, and even my father has forgiven you for the incident at Doornham castle.”

“I am more than relieved to hear that,” Egoraven answered as the event was brought closer into her memory than she had wanted.

“As am I,” Alexandria answered, her excitement fading as a third shadow appeared from the tents, and Egoraven felt the color drain from her face.

Orchid stepped aside, swishing her tail to allow Cerrik to enter their circle. Still as imposing as the unicorn remembered, the knight took his spot behind Alexandria, placing an unwelcome arm around her.

“Ah, Egoraven. We meet again,” he nodded, a strangely calm smile on his face in spite of Alexandria not hiding her distaste at him being there.

Not knowing how to feel about the return of the man who literally wanted to kill her in front of a duke, Egoraven took a step back, trying to keep her ears from completely giving away how upset she was. “Lord Cerrik—” she hesitantly replied.

Cerrik pulled Alexandria closer, ignoring her squirming. “No need to get nervous on my account, Lady Egoraven. What is passed is past. Judging by the tourney results, you have been doing quite well for yourself. I would have to be a fool to challenge you again.”

Alexandria gave a visible grimace as he tightened his grip but said nothing. It was more than obvious the lady did not like being touched by him.

“Thank you,” Egoraven replied with a nod. Something was different since the affair at the castle, and Egoraven wasn’t sure if she wanted to know if it meant Cerrik was going to be her shadow along with the lady.

Morgan, however, was fed up with the intrusion. He stomped his paw on his box and grabbed Egoraven’s arm to finish his fitting. “Well, I hate to break up the reunion here, but she needs to get back to her preparations before the next contest,” he half growled.

Cerrik was more than happy to indulge the fox. “Just as well. We should find our seats anyway.” Still keeping his hands on her, he turned Alexandria away and forced her back towards the stands. Egoraven watched, confused.

Orchid lingered, waiting until some distance was between them and the lord and lady.

“Much has changed since last I saw her,” Egoraven commented.

Orchid tapped her closed fan against her shoulder. “Indeed it has. They are betrothed. The wedding is set for next summer. They are to be married by the king, no less.” The news was not told in a way that would make anyone excited.

“Them? Husband and wife?” Egoraven couldn’t believe what she just heard. “But I thought she didn’t like him.” She felt Morgan tighten the buckles on her armor a bit too roughly.

Orchid let out a sigh. “Such is the sacrifice she is willing to make for those she actually loves.”

“Anything for her father.” Egoraven shook her head, feeling pity for Alexandria.

“No. Not her father...”

Opening her fan again, Orchid turned her back as if looking for someone. Egoraven cocked her head, wondering what she meant, then felt another hard tug, this one done especially to distract her.

“Come on, Egoraven,” Morgan grunted. “You can finish this conversation later.”

The unicorn in scarlet turned, her full, painted lips in a bow-like smile. “Listen to your squire. We shall meet again at tonight’s banquet. Oh, and by the way...” From a pouch around her waist, she pulled out a coral silk scarf with an “A” embroidered in gold thread on it. “My lady has asked that you carry this as her favor instead of the pendant you have. It is certainly more appropriate.” Folding the scarf, she wrapped it around Egoraven’s neck.

Egoraven whiffed at the perfume in her ebony hair, tingling at the feel of perfectly manicured fingers caressing the skin of her throat as Orchid tucked the ends of the scarf into her shirt collar. She didn’t even realize she had been holding her breath until a heavy, stuttering sigh escaped. Orchid gave a little smile at the reaction, making Egoraven blush even more.

“There. All done.” Orchid stepped back, her tail giving a satisfied wave.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, Egoraven dug into her pocket, pulling out a stained rag. Unfolding the fabric revealed the string of gold and silver pearls. Tucking the rag back, she reached out, placing the necklace in sun-kissed hands she did not want to let go.

Another tug brought Egoraven back. “Let’s go—” Morgan snapped impatiently. “You don’t have much time.”

Sliding her hands out of Egoraven’s grip, Orchid curtsied her leave to the entire retinue, Johar and Amadaeo nodding back while earning a suspicious glare from the fox. Egoraven stared wistfully as she disappeared beyond the tents as Morgan pulled too tight on another buckle.

 The stands were especially bustling as heralds called the next round of jousts. A knight in green chevrons and a helm crowned by plumes of ostrich feathers cantered his horse around the arena. Saluting the nobles to the accompanying cheers of the crowd, he met back with his squires at one end, where he was fitted with a blue-striped lance in anticipation of his rival.

The crier didn’t even complete his announcement when the audience erupted at the entry of the second competitor. Egoraven waved and nodded as she pranced the still stubborn Warking, focusing mostly on the stands where Alexandria, brandishing a matching kerchief to her favor, waved furiously back at her champion. But no matter how much the lady made sure to catch her attention, the unicorn’s gaze always fell on the handmaiden seated beside her.

Returning to where Johar waited, Egoraven donned her helm and grabbed the lance, tucking and hooking it to her breastplate. Dramatically spinning Warking into position, she turned her gaze back to the stands. As expected, Alexandria’s attention was fully on her as Cerrik watched with mild interest. Orchid, however, was speaking to a noticeably enthusiastic noble, not even looking in the direction of the arena. Egoraven was glad that her helm hid her souring mood the longer the distraction went.

The first several charges went as much as the unicorn could have anticipated—lances shattering against shields to the delight of the crowds. But each time she looked upon the stands, Orchid’s focus would always be on the meddlesome noble.

Don’t you understand this is for you?

The final rounds looming, Egoraven gathered a fresh lance, trying to concentrate as Orchid’s attention grew less and less. Looking through the visor, she noticed Johar signaling to her, his ears revealing his annoyance. Her inattention to what she was doing was more apparent than she thought.

Bracing herself for another charge, Egoraven glanced back at the stands. As Warking bolted forward, she caught a glimpse of Orchid leaving her seat.

An explosion at her chest rattled through the armor, turning her vision white. Suddenly feeling the air on her face and a roar in her ears that wasn’t the crowd, Egoraven opened her eyes to everything upside down, with galloping horse legs perilously close and the ground even closer. Her horn left a trail as it scraped in the dirt.

With great force, she lifted herself back into the saddle, pulling up Warking as they passed a frantic Johar with Morgan scrambling to get her fallen helm off the field.

“What are you doing? That one mistake could have cost you everything!” Before the enraged horse man could say anything else, Egoraven reached out.

“Just give me the fucking lance!” she screamed. He thrust it into her hand.

Wheeling around, the last charge came with Egoraven fixated on the knight determined to dismount her a second time. Gritting her teeth, knowing she was taking a great risk without any headgear, she prepared for impact.

The collision came in a shower of splinters and a horse shrieking, ending with a metallic thud and a surprised wave of gasping leading into a standing ovation. The knight of green chevrons and ostrich feathers lay stunned as his entourage surrounded him, the complete dismount bringing an immediate end to the contest. Egoraven had won.

The unicorn didn’t remember anything that happened after that point, save for glimpses of the herald raising her arm in victory and the audience disappearing in a myopic glare at an empty seat next to a blond woman dressed in silver and gold.

Taking Warking’s reins, she began to lead the horse, averting her eyes as a fuming Johar confronted her. “That has to be the sloppiest performance I have seen out of you.”

She clenched her whole body to keep from flinching. “I only made a couple of mistakes. And I won anyway.”

“Winning is not the sole purpose, and you know that,” Morgan shouted back at her.

“And jousting without a helm?” Johar continued. “Do I need to tell you the stories of those we have lost just getting a piece of a lance jabbed into their visor? How irresponsible can you be?”

“I’m immortal, remember?” she snapped back.

“And arrogant!” Johar towered over her. “Do you think the Creator cannot take you as he so wills? Just because he granted you such a gift doesn’t mean it is yours to flaunt!”

Morgan trotted up. “And maybe if you stopped obsessing with Alexandria’s servant, you’d do better.”

The unicorn turned her anger towards the fox with a wild glare. “Orchid. Her name is Orchid. And she’s not a servant,” she barked.

Morgan crossed his arms. “No, she just waits on the lady hand and foot, among other things.”

“What do you mean by that?!”

“Enough!” bellowed Johar, startling them.  He jabbed his finger in Egoraven’s face as he snatched Warking’s reins from her hands. “You return to camp and contemplate what you need to win your divisions.” He then pointed to the fox. “Morgan, I need you to make some modifications to the armor and to mind your manners. I am going to pick up some supplies.”

All three of them let out simultaneous grunts as they returned to their camp, deciding it would be best for no one to talk to each other until cooler heads returned.

Walking lazily munched on fresh hay with the cart pony as Egoraven brushed his coat, his skin twitching as she stroked the coarse fur. She sighed as she worked, still preoccupied with the events from earlier. She felt tremendous guilt at yelling at Johar and Morgan, even after long apologizing, but also couldn’t shake the irritation she felt at what seemed like Orchid’s disrespect. Didn’t she understand how important all this was?

“How are you feeling, child?”

Egoraven caught Amadaeo out of the corner of her eye, stopping her work to smile at him. “I’m okay, uncle,” she answered unconvincingly.

The stallion nuzzled her. “You do understand that you just had everyone frightened out of their wits? It was very risky what you did, even if we may have an advantage mortals can’t comprehend.” He paused, his ears drooping. “But that doesn’t mean you should take chances like that. I was scared for you as well. We’re immortal, not immune.”

Egoraven had ended the sentence along with her uncle, remembering when she had said the exact phrase to Daniel. She sighed again at thinking of him. Would she have acted the way she did if he were there?

She tossed the brush to the side, the horse oblivious to her stopping. “I’m sorry, uncle. I don’t know what came over me.” Caressing Amadaeo’s neck, they began walking to the front of the tent as she fussed with unraveling the braids still tied in her hair. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m bothering with competing. Even when I win, it’s not good enough.” Her frustration began to seep back out.

“Nobility cares not for those who only win the tournament,” Amadaeo answered. “You must win the nobility themselves. And you cannot do that unless your mind is at a hundred percent on that goal.”

She let out a grunt, shaking newly freed strands of hair. “I’m beginning to think they couldn’t care less.”

The stallion turned his head. “How can you say that? There are many people in the stands who come because you are here.”

“If I were concerned about impressing peasants and locals, maybe that would mean something.” She scoffed as she untied another braid. “I’m not doing this so some drunks in a tavern can sing with a bard about my exploits. No one of any real ranking has expressed interest unless it’s to get some insight that could make a better wager on my name. They don’t even look at me when I pass. It’s like I’m still too low for them.”

Amadaeo thought for a bit. “You should learn a thing or two from Orchid. She does not seem to have the same problems with acceptance that you are feeling, although don’t learn too much from her.”

A surprised look crossed her face at the comment. “I think you’ve been listening too much to Morgan if even you are talking about Orchid like that.”

“Talk about me like what?”

They both turned to see the very woman before them, a huge smile on Egoraven’s lips.

“Orchid...”

The unicorn in scarlet continued walking towards them. “So, what is it about me that inspires talk?”

“Your name just came up in passing,” Egoraven answered, whatever affront she felt from before fading.  “What brings you back to the sweat and mud?”

“My lady wishes to know what you will be wearing for the banquet tonight so that she can dress to match.” She popped open her fan for emphasis.

Egoraven tilted her head. “Won’t Lord Cerrik find that unusual?”

Orchid let out a knowing chuckle. “You know Alexandria enough to know she won’t let that stop her.”

“Tell her that no matter what she wears, she will be a prize for all in attendance.” Egoraven exaggerated a bow, making Orchid smile.

“You should tell her that yourself. She never grows weary of your flattery.”

“I am here to serve my lady.” Egoraven continued her overdone performance just stopping short of mockery. They both laughed.

“I shall see you tonight then.” Orchid began to turn and then felt three fingers encircle her delicate wrist.

“I have a better idea. Why don’t we go somewhere, just you and me, and enjoy the city for a while? Maybe even skip the banquet?” Egoraven’s grin begged for an answer that wasn’t a no.

“Lady Alexandria would not take too kindly to you not being in attendance,” Orchid answered. “And I have several obligations I must attend to.”

The grin slowly faded. “You always have obligations. Can you not set them aside for now?”

Orchid leaned in, allowing Egoraven to again catch the perfume in her hair. “All the more reason to come to the banquet tonight.” Her whisper made the unicorn girl flush all over, and she felt her hands tighten around hers.

Amadaeo tightened his lips as he watched the two women, hearing Morgan making his way out of the tent.

“Here. See if this is better,” the fox spoke out loud while fussing with the breastplate he carried. Amadao lowered his head to stop Morgan from walking further.

“What the—” He looked up to see Egoraven still talking to Orchid as she firmly held her hand. Pinning his ears, he turned to comment, only to have the unicorn snort at him.

“Not one word,” Amadaeo sternly commanded. “Not. One. Word.”