Social etiquette demanded of wayside peasants to clear from the road when military personnel would pass by and to offer a courteous, albeit simple, bow of the head. It was simply a way to let the soldiers know their efforts and risks were recognized. A reverent bow was only an obligation when high ranking officers came, and it was to bow head and shoulder with the right hand on your heart as a sign of submission. Everyone laid a hand on their heart and bowed.
Nine riders, of which five were regular soldiers in gambesons mounted on palfrey horses, whilst the remaining four were mounted on Tuskiols, rare and expansive mounts.
-"My, such beautiful beasts...!" whispered Lauria in awe of the Tuskiols.
Tuskiols were close relatives of the horses, but humans saw in them august creatures deserving of much care and respect. If their well-known cousins had to be tamed and trained to fit any role from a sumpter to a courser or destrier, any Tuskiol was to be taught how to carry just like a rider had to learn how to ride. Training and teaching were quite different process; simply looking in its eyes was enough to realize that. Their eyes were not on the side but on the front, for they feared no predators and looked at rather than around them. Many fables picturing animals with a human mind, and Kastosians enjoyed those regardless of social status, attributed to the Tuskiols wisdom and or insight. Ears were longer than those of horses, and males had a small golden goatee. A mane, also golden, went down their neck as a regular crest, but then became like a lion's mane just before the shoulders. In the distant Horsendansk Island, such hair gave them the title of King of the Open Lands.
-"Tuskiols!" gasped Mayen as he turned to his brother. "I can't believe it! They really exist! I mean, I knew they did, but now..."
-"The God of Creation certainly has blessed this day not only with my wedding, but with such an experience..."
Wayside peasants did receive many travellers, and horses made travel easy, but Tuskiols were not to be used for menial things. Though they had longer legs and more stamina, allowing them to cover much more ground, they were primarily used in solemn events or warfare as mounts for some of the high ranked officers.
The riders did not pass the group of peasants: the man in front dismounted. He was not one of those soldiers who were wearing the regular military gambeson. Not him nor the three others behind him. When the man's sabaton hit the ground, the noise it gave rang in Mayen's head; astonishment, more than silence, can make a noise sound louder than reality.
-"Greetings to you and peace from up high," said the rider, "might I ask where I could find the innkeeper?"
-"I am your man, Your Honour! The name of this keeper is Eldorich. How may I be of service?"
'Your Honour' was a title used to address those belonging to the nobility of valour, high ranking officers within the Military Chain of Command who had distinguished themselves. Eldorich had no need to know the man's rank, that he rode a Tuskiol was proof enough.
For Mayen, as regal the Tuskiol was, it paled in comparison to its rider. Entirely covered in plate armour, the man was no man but the embodiment of chivalry, of what it meant to be a Kastosian. Kastos, last civilization of the First Humanity and defender of the second humanity against the darkness in whatever form it manifested itself and would do so again. Warriors of justice who fought in holy wars, wars not for political power but for survival of the world. Being older than any other human nations, Kastos was the wisest and its soldiers the fiercest At least, that was how Mayen saw them. Years ago, he had been lost in the forest and had crossed path with a mother bear and her cub; had it not been for the intervention of Ceptein Spencer and Ceptein Alriched, he would have died. Gratitude had never really been what the boy felt towards these two military officers, no, it was rather a powerful admiration and desire to be like them. Since then, he prayed every night before going to bed, praying and begging to one day serve under one of them.
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Across the ocean Book 1: On the run
FantasyIn a world not our own, Nel-Radin, history is also a heavy word, meaning that much happened, much is happening and yet more will happen. This story begins in the year 3'404 according to the Kastosian Calendar, in the small village of Gimvault, with...