Quin awoke feeling completely rested. He felt chipper and enthusiastic to face the day. Yesterday had been so new and exciting. From witnessing new sights to meeting and making new friends, everything was fantastic. He was looking forward to the day, and his life couldn't have been better. He flipped out of bed and set about tidying the sheets until they looked like they hadn’t even been slept in. Quin had freshened up the previous day, so he felt no need to bathe again. He would most likely be doing that every day after training with Cohort Eighteen.

Quin had discovered the previous night that his room had been stocked full of standard-issue Acolyte tunics and other necessities. Yesterday, a young servant boy in Solarius' garb had stopped by his room and informed him about a chute at the end of the hall for dirty clothes. Additionally, his room would be restocked with clothing at the end of each week. The servant had then instructed him on several other things of minimal note but helpful for living in the Temple of Solarius.

Upon dressing and tidying his hair, Quin immediately left his room and made his way to the church. When Quin arrived and stepped through the grand arched doors of the church, bathed in the soft golden glow of the rising sun, he felt at peace. The church itself was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its towering pillars piercing toward the cathedral ceiling as if seeking the light of Solarius himself. Made from gleaming white stone and adorned with intricate carvings of sunbursts and rays, the structure seemed to pulse with the power of the god it was dedicated to. Massive stained-glass windows lined the walls, casting vibrant hues of yellow, gold, and orange across the interior, where shafts of light illuminated every corner.

Inside, the church stretched into a vast open space, a sea of worshippers filling the pews. Mortals of all walks of life gathered here: farmers in simple, worn tunics, merchants in colorful robes, scholars with ink-stained hands and spectacles, and even beggars wrapped in patched cloaks. They were all drawn together by the unifying light of Solarius, a beacon of hope and wisdom in the world.

Amidst the crowds, however, were those who stood apart—the devout followers of Solarius like Quin, clad in shining armor and regal tunics. Their garments were adorned with the symbol of Solarius, their breastplates and pauldrons glimmering like polished gold. Quin’s steps were purposeful as he moved through the mass of worshippers, his eyes fixed on the massive altar at the front of the temple.

At the center of the altar stood a colossal statue of Solarius, his arms raised, holding a brilliant sun high above his head, casting a warm and reassuring glow over the assembly. Priests in flowing white robes, lined with golden patterns, prepared for the morning mass, their voices raised in harmonious hymns of praise. As Quin approached, the scent of incense filled the air, mixing with the quiet murmur of the crowd.

Though there was a hum of anticipation from the gathered mortals, the followers of Solarius, like Quin, were solemn and reverent, their eyes reflecting the wisdom and might of their god. Here, in this sacred place, Quin felt the weight of his faith, the responsibility to uphold Solarius’ light and wisdom, knowing that he, like the other knights and clerics surrounding him, was a living extension of the god’s power on earth.

Quin walked around the outside of the church, hugging its wall as he made his way towards a cordoned-off section for followers of Solarius. He reached the area, and it was packed full. However, everyone squeezed in and made room for their brother in arms and worship. There Quin sat in a pew. Although he knew no one around him, he did not feel alone or like an outsider. This place was his home, names did not matter as they were united in purpose and beliefs.

Quin shifted his gaze toward the towering altar ahead. The murmurs of the crowd softened as attention shifted to the back of the temple. From a hidden room behind the altar, Patrick Falter, the Head Priest of the Church of Solarius, emerged. His presence was soft against the extravagance of the temple. He wore his High Priest attire, a robe of gold and white, his silver hair shining under the temple's radiant light. In his hands, he held a golden staff topped with a gleaming set of three triangles, the symbol of Solarius.

As he began his walk to the altar, a choir rose in unison from the side of the temple, their voices clear and harmonious. The sound echoed through the vast chamber, lifting spirits as they sang their praises to the God of Light:

"Oh, Solarius, bringer of dawn,

With wisdom vast, we are reborn.

Your might and truth, our guiding star,

In your light, we are never far."

The melody filled the space, blending with the soft light streaming through the stained-glass windows. Patrick Falter walked with purpose, each step measured as if in perfect rhythm with the choir's hymn. It was clear that Patrick was well-practiced in his entrance, probably having completed this same walk tens of thousands of times. Reaching the altar, he raised his staff high, the symbol of Solarius catching the light and reflecting it across the temple like a beacon. The choir's song faded, leaving the air still, charged with reverence and expectation.

Patrick Falter stood before the altar, his golden staff glinting in the soft sunlight streaming through the stained glass. His deep, resonant voice filled the chamber, calm yet powerful, commanding the attention of every soul gathered.

"My brothers and sisters," he began, his gaze sweeping across the sea of faces, both young and old. "Today, I speak to you of something fundamental to our lives, to the very future of our world—the youth."

A hush fell over the congregation as Patrick continued, his words carrying the weight of authority and experience.

"The young are like the first light of dawn, full of promise, energy, and ambition. They are the flames of the future, and it is our sacred duty to guide them, to nurture their growth so that they may shine as Solarius himself shines down upon us. For though the young are the heirs to this world, they must learn to temper their light with wisdom."

Patrick paused, looking toward a group of young Acolytes seated near the front. "But wisdom is not born in the heat of youth alone. It is gathered over years, learned through hardship, through victory and defeat. Each of you, whether noble or common, whether soldier or scholar, has something to teach the next generation. Do not think that your experiences are unworthy or small. The youth are watching, and they look to us for the path forward."

Several armored followers near Quin nodded in quiet agreement, the words stirring their sense of responsibility.

"To the elders among you," Patrick continued, his tone softening but his message no less powerful, "Know that your lessons are invaluable. Share your knowledge, your trials, and your triumphs. Guide the young with patience and love, for they carry the torch after you are gone. They must know not just the Light of Solarius, but how to wield it with wisdom and compassion."

Turning his gaze to the younger faces in the crowd, Patrick’s voice became even more impassioned. "And to the youth among us, listen well to those who have walked the path before you. There is no shame in seeking counsel, no weakness in learning from those who have lived longer. Your elders carry with them the stories of Solarius’ Light shining through their lives, and in their stories, you will find the lessons you need to grow strong in your own."

Quin felt the truth of Patrick’s words resonate deeply within him. He felt as if Patrick had decided to give this sermon and message because of him just starting out on this journey of knowledge and learning within the Temple of Solarius. He understood that while strength and zeal might come in youth, true mastery came only with the patience to learn from those who had come before.

Patrick Falter, sensing the quiet reverence in the room, lifted his hands and spoke one final time: "In Solarius’ light, we are never alone. Each of us has a role to play, and together, we make His light shine brighter. Let us honor the generations before us, guide those that follow, and always seek to embody the wisdom of the Sun."

With that, he bowed his head, his sermon complete, and the temple fell into a respectful silence, each worshiper reflecting on their place in the grand cycle of wisdom and youth. Almost all bowed their heads and prayed for guidance from Solarius. Quin did the same, and as he did, he activated Divine Insight.

At first, nothing happened — as usual — but after a few minutes of prayer, something flashed through Quin’s mind. What Quin saw was a village appearing in flashes, like fragments of a dream.

First, he saw children laughing, running barefoot through narrow cobblestone streets. Bright tunics fluttered as they darted between simple wooden cottages. Quin could not see if there was any writing or symbols on the tunics. A flash of sunlight reflected off a nearby well, casting golden beams across the square, where flowers grew in bright clusters along the edges of a stone wall.

Another flash—baskets of fresh bread lined the windowsill of a bakery, the scent of herbs lingering in the warm air. Smiling faces passed by, their mouths moving as though caught in mid-conversation, but the words were lost to Quin. A breeze carried the laughter of the children, and he saw their small feet kicking up dust as they raced through the square.

Then, the flashes slowed.

There, standing by the well, was a woman. At first, she seemed like part of the peaceful scene—plain clothes, a calm face—but her eyes. Quin felt a chill. Her gaze, locked on the children, was dark, too dark, a sharp contrast to the cheer around her. The joy of the village dimmed in her presence. She watched the children with an intensity that felt wrong, her eyes cold and unblinking.

Another flash. The children continued to laugh, unaware of her stare. The village remained bright, almost painfully so. But her figure, still by the well, lingered like a shadow against the light. She did not move. Only her eyes followed. The vision lingered on her for a moment longer, the image burning into Quin's mind before the scene faded completely, leaving only the unsettling darkness of her gaze.

Quin jolted out of the vision and found himself still in the pew, his hands clasped in prayer. The church had nearly emptied, with only a few remaining worshipers and several altar boys cleaning up the church. They moved quietly, sweeping to clear away the dirt and dust brought in by the many visitors.

"You seem off balance. I was hoping my sermon today would be enlightening, but it seems to have left you in a strange state of mind," a voice drifted over Quin’s shoulder.

Quin turned and found himself being watched from a few meters away by Patrick Falter, the High Priest. He was still wearing the same robes from his sermon, but the staff bearing the Symbol of Solarius was gone.

"It was not you, High Priest Falter. I was praying, and something happened," Quin explained after standing and bowing slightly out of respect for the old man.

"Hmmm, was it your Divine Insight?" Patrick asked.

"You know about that?" Quin replied.

"Lief Stoneheart briefed the High Templar and me about your abilities. That one in particular intrigued me. Lief mentioned you hadn’t succeeded in using it before," the High Priest explained.

"Yes, I hadn’t been able to," Quin confirmed. "But after your sermon, I tried again, and it worked. Though I’m not sure what to make of it."

Patrick came forward and sat in the pew next to Quin.

"Tell me what happened. Perhaps I can offer some wisdom," Patrick said.

Quin described everything, from attempting to activate Divine Insight to the flashes of the village and the strange woman by the well. Patrick was silent for a few moments, pursing his lips in thought.

"I cannot say for certain what your vision meant," Patrick said finally. "Your powers, as far as we know, don’t provide foresight. So this vision likely pertains to something from the past or the present. There are many villages like the one you described nearby, though that might not matter for your Insight."

"It must be important," Quin insisted. "Solarius wouldn’t show me something meaningless. Those children might be in danger."

"If they were in immediate danger, there’s nothing either of us could do about it now," Patrick said gently. "Solarius offers wisdom, not torment. He wouldn’t give you a vision of suffering without purpose. Perhaps the woman you saw is indeed a threat, but maybe not to the children. She could be a rogue agent of the Dark Pantheon hiding in our lands. Regardless, don’t dwell too much on the details just yet. The vision’s significance will reveal itself in time."

Quin sighed but nodded. "I suppose you're right."

"What we can do, however, is attempt to figure out why your Divine Insight managed to work this time around," Patrick offered. "I would suggest attempting to use it after each morning sermon. Perhaps your state of mind or being in a holy place dedicated to Solarius is the trigger."

Quin agreed to keep trying to use his Divine Insight and figure out what made it tick. With that promise, the two parted ways. Quin left the church and proceeded to the dining hall. There, he ate his meal alone, still feeling off from the vision. Quin noticed a few looks and whispers from the others who were also there for their meals. He caught fragments of the conversations, and they were about Quin being a Chosen One. He decided their gossip didn’t bother him.

When Quin was just finishing his meal, he saw Lief Stoneheart striding towards him. Quin hadn’t seen the man since they had first arrived at the temple. Lief appeared unchanged, except he was no longer wearing his armor. He was still the large, broad-shouldered warrior that he had always been.

"Quin, my lad, how have you been settling in?" Lief asked upon arriving at Quin’s table.

"Very well, thank you. There’s just so much to absorb, it can be overwhelming at times," Quin answered.

"That it can, that it can. We have training for you and your cohort in a few hours. That gives us enough time to visit the stables and get you outfitted with a horse," Lief stated.

That caused Quin to grow excited, snapping him out of the funk he had been in. Quin practically forgot about the vision and rose from the table with his plate of half-finished food.

"What are we waiting for? Let’s go," Quin said enthusiastically. Lief laughed and motioned for Quin to follow him, and together they left the dining hall.

Quin and Lief approached the stables, the soft crunch of gravel under their boots the only sound in the quiet courtyard. The stables, nestled just behind the Temple of Solarius, were large and imposing, built from thick timber beams and white stone that matched the temple’s grand design. The roof sloped gently, covered in weathered, sun-bleached tiles, and the high wooden doors were reinforced with iron bands, giving an impression of strength and permanence.

The interlocking triangles, the symbol of Solarius, were etched above the entrance, gleaming faintly in the soft light of the early morning. Around the stable, flower beds lined the edges, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise utilitarian structure. Vines climbed the wooden beams on one side, their green tendrils curling up toward the roof.

Despite its sturdy appearance, the stable exuded a sense of calm. The scent of hay and leather lingered in the air, and the occasional soft whinny of horses could be heard from within. Above the door, small windows allowed shafts of sunlight to spill into the stable, casting a warm glow on the stone path leading up to it.

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Together, the two walked down the path until they reached the doors. Lief pushed open the heavy stable doors with ease, the iron hinges groaning slightly as they swung inward. A warm, earthy scent greeted Quin as they stepped inside—fresh hay, polished leather, and the faint musk of horses. Sunlight filtered through the small windows, casting beams of golden light across the wide, open interior.

The stable was spacious, with rows of sturdy wooden stalls lining both sides, each one immaculately kept. Fine horses, their coats gleaming in the soft light, stood patiently in their stalls. Some nickered softly, their ears flicking in Lief and Quin's direction. The sound of hooves gently shifting on straw echoed in the quiet.

"These stables," Lief began, his voice steady and warm, "house some of the finest horses in service to Solarius. Each one is trained for endurance and speed, for when the knights of Solarius must ride into battle or carry His message across the land."

Quin’s eyes drifted to the rows of saddles and tack hanging on the walls, each set polished to a gleam. The intricate designs etched into the leather—sunbursts and rays of light—showed the care and detail that went into the equipment the knights wore. The craftsmanship looked extraordinarily expensive. Lief walked slowly down the center aisle.

"Every detail in this stable serves a purpose, Quin. From the wide aisles to allow knights in full armor to pass, to the reinforced beams supporting the roof, everything is built to last through any storm," Lief instructed. He pointed to a set of wooden ladders that led to a loft above. "Up there is the hayloft, where we keep the best feed. Only the finest for these steeds."

Quin listened, taking in the grandeur and care that had gone into every part of the stable. It was clear that the horses were as much a part of the temple’s sacred duty as any of the knights themselves, and they were treated accordingly. Quin’s eyes moved from one horse to the next, each creature standing out with its own unique presence.

The first horse that caught his attention was smaller than the others, sleek and agile. Its coat was a deep, dappled gray, almost silver under the soft light streaming through the windows. The horse's legs were slender but strong, and it shifted restlessly in its stall, as if eager to move. Lief noticed Quin studying it and nodded.

"That one there," Lief explained, "is bred for speed. Perfect for scouting or delivering messages across great distances. It's smaller, but far faster than the larger warhorses. In battle, they’re invaluable for carrying word from the front lines, swift and light on their feet. Many underestimate these horses, but they are the backbone of our communication."

Quin stepped closer to the stall, noting how the horse’s muscles rippled beneath its coat, its eyes sharp and alert, always scanning. It was clear this horse was built for movement, for the thrill of the chase, not for carrying a heavily armored rider into the fray. If that was the case, then a horse like this would, sadly, not be for him. Quin planned to be charging into battle, not delivering messages or scouting.

His gaze then shifted to the next stall, where an entirely different kind of horse stood. This one was massive, easily towering over the smaller, quicker horse. Its coat was a rich, dark brown, almost black, and its broad chest and thick legs exuded raw power. The warhorse stood completely still, its stance solid and unshakable, its eyes calm yet watchful. Every inch of its body spoke of strength and discipline, a creature bred for battle.

"This," Lief said, his voice low with pride, "is one of our warhorses. Built to carry a knight in full armor without faltering. They may not be the fastest, but their power is unmatched. In the heat of battle, they charge forward like a force of nature, unyielding. These horses are trained for the chaos of war, fearless even in the midst of fire and steel."

As Quin observed the warhorse, he could see the intelligence in its eyes, a quiet understanding of its role. It wasn’t merely a beast of burden—it was a partner in battle, trusted with the lives of those who rode it. Its thick, muscular frame was armored in natural strength, ready to plow through the front lines with unwavering resolve.

Beside the smaller, nimble horse, the warhorse seemed like a mountain. Each was distinct, yet both were invaluable in their own ways, embodying different facets of Solarius’ strength and purpose. Lief turned to Quin with a grin, his eyes glinting with excitement.

"It’s time you were given your own warhorse. You’ll need one that matches your strength and can accompany you into battle," Lief said, placing a firm hand on Quin’s shoulder.

Quin’s heart quickened. These animals before him were incredible, and the idea of having one as his own stirred both excitement and responsibility within him. Lief gave him a knowing nod, then gestured toward the far end of the stable.

"Come, we’ll see the stablemaster. I already spoke to him this morning about obtaining you a mount. Not everyone gets a horse upon entering the Temple of Solarius as an Acolyte, but with your status and my money, it is no issue," Lief said with a laugh. Quin laughed along with him.

They walked down the aisle between the stalls. Horses whinnied and shook their heads as they passed. At the far end of the stable stood a broad-shouldered man with a weathered face, his skin tanned from years of working in the sun. His eyes were sharp but kind, his graying beard neatly trimmed. As Lief and Quin approached, he straightened and wiped his hands on his apron, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Lief Stoneheart," the stablemaster greeted them, his voice deep and friendly. "I see you have brought the young man you mentioned. To think I would meet a Chosen One of Solarius during this lifetime. Truly a privilege."

The stablemaster then extended a calloused hand to Quin.

"Name’s Garrick," he said, his grip firm but warm. "I’ve been working with these horses for longer than I can remember, and I can tell you—you’re about to meet a partner who’ll stand by you forever. If you treat him well, he will do the exact same."

Quin nodded, feeling the weight of the moment, and Garrick chuckled, giving him an appraising look. "Well, let’s not waste any time, then. Follow me."

He led them out of the stable and through a side gate that opened into a large, open field behind the building. The grass stretched out in a wide, lush expanse, and in the distance, a group of young warhorses ran freely, their powerful legs pounding the earth as they kicked up dust in their wake. The sun bathed the field in golden light, casting long shadows as the horses moved in a graceful, unrestrained dance of strength.

"There they are," Garrick said, motioning toward the herd. "These young ones are not fully trained yet, but they’ve been handpicked for the next generation of knights. Each of them has potential, and it’ll be your job to form a bond with one of them."

Quin watched in awe as the warhorses galloped across the field, their muscles rippling beneath their glossy coats. Some were deep brown, almost black, while others had lighter shades of chestnut and gray. Each one looked strong, their powerful frames already promising the endurance and loyalty that warhorses were known for. The stablemaster leaned on the fence, eyes on the horses.

“It’s not just about picking the strongest or the fastest, Quin,” Garrick said. “It’s about finding the one that feels right. The bond between knight and horse is more than just a partnership between man and animal. Take your time—one of them will choose you as much as you choose them.”

Lief, standing beside Quin, nodded. “He’s right. A warhorse is more than just a mount. It will be your partner in battle, your shield and sword on four legs. A good horse can save your life, while a bad one could deliver you to your doom. Trust your instincts and pick one that can protect you from harm. Now get in there.”

Quin felt a rush of excitement and a flicker of nerves as he hopped the fence, his boots sinking into the soft grass of the field. The warhorses, still running in their small herd, barely noticed his arrival at first. He stood there for a moment, watching them gallop freely, their sheer power sending up tufts of earth behind them. Lief and Garrick remained by the fence, watching intently.

Quin took a deep breath and started walking further into the field, his eyes scanning the young warhorses. He was unsure of which one would be his, but something inside him told him to trust the process. He could feel the sun warming his back, the Light of Solarius guiding him as he approached the edge of the herd.

Suddenly, a loud crack split the air, followed by a startled whinny. A bolt of movement caught Quin’s eye—a young, dark gray warhorse had kicked out sharply, knocking against another horse that had strayed too close. The larger horse retaliated, rearing up, its hooves flashing dangerously in the air.

Quin’s heart jumped in his chest. The two horses were about to clash in full force, their muscles tense and eyes wild. Without thinking, Quin stepped forward, his instincts driving him toward the gray horse. “Hey!” he called, his voice firm but calm. “Easy now!”

To his surprise, the gray horse whipped its head toward him, snorting in agitation but stopping its advance toward the other horse. Its wide, intelligent eyes locked onto Quin’s, as if assessing him. Quin held out his hands slowly, keeping his voice steady.

“You don’t need to fight,” he said, his words more a feeling than a command. “I’m here.”

For a tense moment, the gray horse stood still, watching Quin with cautious eyes. Then, almost as if understanding his calm presence, the horse lowered its head slightly, its ears flicking back. Quin took a careful step closer, his heartbeat still racing from the sudden adrenaline, but now focused entirely on the horse before him. The other horse, sensing the shift, backed away, leaving Quin alone with the gray warhorse.

The air between them seemed to still as Quin and the horse regarded one another. Quin reached out a hand, fingers brushing the horse’s warm, damp muzzle. The warhorse exhaled softly, its breath stirring the hair by Quin’s face. Something passed between them, an unspoken bond—a feeling of trust and understanding. The horse’s eyes softened, and it pressed its head gently into Quin’s hand, as if recognizing him not just as a rider, but as a partner.

Lief and Garrick, watching from the fence, exchanged glances, both nodding in approval.

“That’s the one,” Garrick said, a smile pulling at his weathered face. “Looks like the choice has been made.”

Quin could feel it, too. There was a connection between them now, as though something mystical had forged it. The horse had chosen him, just as much as he had chosen the horse. Quin turned back toward the fence, still running his hand along the gray warhorse’s strong neck.

“What’s his name?” Quin called out to Garrick, curious about the horse that would soon accompany him.

Garrick leaned against the fence, scratching his beard before responding. “His name? Ah, well… that one’s called Albert.”

“Albert?” Quin repeated in disbelief, glancing over at Lief, who raised an eyebrow, barely suppressing a chuckle.

“That’s an incredibly plain name for a warhorse,” Quin muttered, shaking his head.

“Albert? Sounds more like a name for a farmer’s mule, not a horse destined for battle,” Lief couldn’t help but scoff aloud, his deep laugh filling the field.

But just as they were dismissing the name, Albert snorted loudly, as if in protest, and nudged Quin firmly with his head, nearly knocking him off balance. Quin blinked, surprised at the horse’s reaction, and looked into Albert’s eyes, which were staring at him with a mixture of challenge and mischief.

“Seems like Albert doesn’t appreciate your opinion of his name,” Garrick smirked. Quin sighed, rubbing the horse’s nose.

“Alright, alright,” Quin conceded, rolling his eyes but smiling. “Albert it is, then.”

Albert huffed, satisfied, and Quin couldn’t help but feel a fondness growing. The name might have been plain, but it was clear the horse had a spirit all its own. What Quin didn’t look forward to was the day he would inevitably introduce his trusty steed to his friends. He could already picture the teasing over Albert’s name. Perhaps he’d have to spar and thrash them a bit before the introduction to humble their laughter. Then again, that might only make it worse.

Garrick hopped the fence and walked up to Quin and Albert, his face serious now, though still carrying a glint of amusement.

“Alright, lad, now that you and Albert are officially a pair, there’s something you need to know. A warhorse isn’t just a tool, and it’s not something you can hand off to someone else to look after entirely. You need to be involved, personally,” Garrick began.

Quin straightened, nodding attentively. Albert stood quietly beside him, completely at ease.

“I’ll have the stable hands care for him while you’re at the Temple, sure,” Garrick continued, folding his arms, “but don’t think for a second that lets you off the hook. If you want Albert to be more than just a mount, if you want him to be your partner in battle, you’ll need to put in the time yourself.”

He gestured toward Albert with a nod. “Every day, you’ll need to come down here. Ride him, get used to how he moves, how he reacts. A warhorse isn’t like the horses you’ve trained on before. They’re stronger, more stubborn, and more independent. You’ll need to learn his rhythms, and he’ll need to learn yours. You two have to move as one, especially when you’re out there in the chaos of battle.”

Quin listened carefully, already imagining himself riding Albert into combat—the wind in his hair, the ground thundering beneath them. But Garrick’s voice brought him back to the present.

“You’ve got to care for him, too,” Garrick added. “Brush him down after every ride. Check his hooves regularly. The stable hands will help with the heavier work—feeding, mucking out the stall—but it’s important that Albert knows your touch. A warhorse needs to trust his rider completely, and that trust doesn’t come from just riding him into battle. It comes from spending time together, even in the small moments.”

Garrick’s expression softened as he placed a hand on Albert’s flank. “Remember, this horse will be your companion through thick and thin. The bond you form now will carry you through the hardest trials. A knight without a bond with his horse is lost. In battle, it could mean the difference between life and death.”

Quin nodded, taking the lesson to heart. He reached up to pat Albert’s neck, feeling the warmth of the animal and the strength beneath his hand. The idea of growing that connection, of becoming a team with Albert, made Quin feel the weight of his responsibility, but it was a weight he would gladly bear.

“I understand,” Quin said, his voice firm with new resolve. “I’ll make sure I’m here every day. He’ll know he can trust me.”

Garrick gave him an approving nod. “Good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. Now, let’s get you two settled. You’ve got a long journey ahead of you—might as well start today.”

Quin stood quietly for a moment, his hand still on Albert’s neck, feeling the steady rhythm of the horse’s breathing. The excitement of the moment lingered, but as Garrick’s words sunk in, Quin’s heart sank a little. There was something he hadn’t voiced yet, and the more he thought about it, the more it gnawed at him.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Quin spoke up. “There’s, uh… something you should probably know,” he began, shifting under Garrick’s watchful gaze. “I’ve never actually ridden a horse before.”

For a split second, silence hung between them. Then, Garrick slowly raised a hand to his face and let out a long, exasperated sigh, dragging his palm down over his features in disbelief.

“You’re telling me,” Garrick muttered through his fingers, “that you’ve been paired with one of the finest warhorses we’ve got… and you’ve never even been in the saddle?”

Quin winced, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “That’s right.”

Garrick groaned and turned toward Lief, who was doing his best to avoid Garrick’s frustrated glare.

“Lief,” Garrick growled, “you didn’t think to mention this little detail before handing him over to a warhorse?”

“Details, details. Figured Quin would pick it up quick enough. He’s good at everything else, after all,” Lief shrugged casually, his arms crossed, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. Garrick shook his head, muttering something under his breath about knights and their lack of foresight.

“Well,” he said, turning back to Quin, “we can’t have you riding into battle without knowing how to actually ride, can we? You’ve got your work cut out for you, lad.”

“So… what do we do?” Quin asked, shifting awkwardly.

Garrick scratched his beard thoughtfully. “First things first, we’ll set up a proper schedule. Mornings work for you? We’ll start at sunrise, before the heat gets too much and before you’ve got your other duties. We’ll take it slow at first—saddling, mounting, walking—and then work up to proper riding once you’re comfortable.”

“That sounds… good. Thank you,” Quin nodded, feeling a wave of relief.

Garrick’s tone softened slightly, seeing Quin’s gratitude. “No need to thank me. Everyone starts somewhere, and it’s better you learn properly than try to fake it.” He gave a sharp nod. “We’ll make a rider out of you yet, don’t you worry.”

Lief clapped Quin on the back. “See, Quin? Garrick’s one of the best. You’ll be galloping across fields in no time, trust me.”

Quin couldn’t help but smile despite his earlier embarrassment. He glanced at Albert, who stood patiently, oblivious to Quin’s inexperience.

“I’ll be here, then,” Quin said, more determined. “Sunrise.”

Garrick grinned, his earlier frustration melting away. “That’s the spirit. We’ll get you riding that warhorse of yours properly, and by the time you’re ready for battle, Albert won’t let anyone but you take the reins.”

“There’s more, though,” Lief chimed in, suddenly serious. “We’ll need to teach you how to channel your spirit into your mount. I’ll handle that once you’ve got the riding down. By putting spirit into your warhorse, you increase their strength, speed, and durability. Warhorses like Albert are bred with excellent genetics and receptivity to spirit. Without it, Albert won’t be able to keep up with your speed at higher Ranks, or withstand the attacks from other followers.”

“He’s good stock, that one,” Garrick added proudly. “Both his parents were warhorses who survived multiple battles in No Man’s Land.”

Lief, unable to help himself, suddenly burst out, “Now, enough horsing around!” He laughed uproariously at his own joke.

Garrick, Quin, and even Albert turned toward Lief, unimpressed. Garrick’s expression was blank and unamused. Somehow, Albert managed to mirror Garrick’s look, despite being a horse. Quin simply raised an eyebrow.

“He’s definitely been holding onto that one. I bet he came up with it this morning and has been saving it for exactly this moment,” Quin said to Garrick.

“I have no doubt,” Garrick replied. Albert snorted in agreement.

“Well, come on, Quin,” Lief said, still chuckling, “we’ve got cohort training. Time to put your other skills to use.”

With a fond pat to Albert’s neck and a nod to Garrick, Quin turned to follow Lief. The training might be tough, but he knew that learning to ride Albert would be its own adventure—a partnership that could mean the difference between life and death.