Post by devilinthedetails on Aug 18, 2019 2:00:33 GMT 10
Title: Horsemeat
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Noble Steed
Word Count: 1231
Summary: A young Wyldon rescues a noble steed.
Horsemeat
Eleven-year-old Wyldon fought a scowl as he finished brushing the tangles out of his pony’s coat. It was a constant source of frustration for him that pages as young as him weren’t permitted to ride real horses as he had done for years growing up in Cavall, where everyone who could afford it rode real horses. This especially grated on him because he knew deep in his bones that he was the best rider among all the pages and squires. If he were ever made training master, the ridiculous rule about pages younger than twelve having to ride ponies would be the first one to go, no disrespect intended to Duke Gareth, of course…
“Might want to hurry out before ye hear anything unpleasant.” Stefan paused in the door of Wyldon’s stall, water bucket in hand and hay in hair. “A group of guards will be takin’ a wild mount to the barracks where they say it can be of some use as horsemeat.”
Echoing through the stables, he heard a frantic whinny followed by the coarse curses common to those rough men who served as guardsmen at the palace. He pushed past Stefan and saw at the other end of the stables a group of guards straining on a rope wrapped tightly around the neck of a bucking dappled gray stallion. The stallion, hooves flailing, was yanking in the opposite direction, struggling valiantly to remain in the safety of the stall.
“Stop!” Wyldon shouted at the guards, trying to put the iron he heard in his own father’s voice when the Lord of Cavall expected to be obeyed without argument. He had to make the guards listen to him even though he was a mere page or else a handsome piece of horseflesh would become horsemeat, and he couldn’t let that happen. He had to speak for the horse who couldn’t speak. “I’ll buy that horse.”
“Ye don’t want this one, boy,” one guard grunted, veins throbbing in his throat as he continued to heave on the rope. “This one’s untamable, good only for horsemeat.”
“He’s spirited,” Wyldon snapped, seeing his own bravery and determination reflected in the stallion’s wide eyes that refused to surrender. “He’s not untamable. No horse is untamable.”
That’s what Father had always said, and no horse Wyldon had ever seen had proved Father wrong about that.
“How much will ye be payin’ for this spirited one then, eh?” The guard whose insignia represented the highest rank of those assembled demanded of Wyldon.
“Ten gold nobles.” Wyldon reached for the wallet strapped to his belt. Father, he thought, would understand the expense, since Father preferred horses to people.
“Ten gold nobles.” The leader of the guards snorted like a disdainful horse. “This stallion is worth twice that.”
“You’re going to turn him into horsemeat.” Wyldon folded his arms across his chest, glaring icily at the leader of the guards. “Ten gold nobles is more than enough to compensate you for that.”
“Ten gold nobles isn’t even worth the effort of draggin’ him out of his stall.” The leader of the guards made a sharp gesture at his men, who dropped the rope and shut the door swiftly on the stallion’s kicking legs. Extending a palm to Wyldon, he added irritably, “He’s yours for ten gold nobles, and that’ll buy us better food in the barracks than he ever would have been.”
Wyldon counted the gold nobles into the guard’s hand. He sensed that the guard believed he had won the confrontation since ten gold nobles was a tidy sum for a horse about to become horsemeat, but Wyldon didn’t care. To Wyldon, ten gold nobles was a small price to pay for saving a noble steed.
Wyldon stared absently at the backs of the departing guards, deciding that it would be best to give the stallion time to calm down before he entered the stall to remove the rope from the horse’s neck. Stefan, who must have watched the entire scene in silence, sidled up to him to remark, “They’ll report to His Grace that ye argued with ‘em.”
“Most likely,” agreed Wyldon, shrugging to show how little he cared about that. Any punishment he received from Duke Gareth for defying the guards would be more than worth it for rescuing a noble steed. His only regret was that he would have to send the horse to Cavall to be looked after in his father’s stable. He wouldn’t be allowed to ride the horse himself at the palace, and it was clear as glass that stallion needed to be run every day. That stallion was indeed a wild one.
Stefan’s prediction was proven true the next morning when Wyldon was summoned from his mathematics class to Duke Gareth’s office.
“A group of guards said you defied them when they sought to remove a wild mount from the stables to be made into horsemeat,” Duke Gareth commented without preamble once Wyldon rose from his bow.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Wyldon lowered his head, awaiting whatever sentence Duke Gareth would give him for his defiance.
“Why did you defy the guards?” Duke Gareth cracked open a nut.
“The horse couldn’t speak.” Wyldon was so surprised by the training master’s unexpected question that he lifted his head. “I had to speak for him.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t what I was asking.” Duke Gareth transferred the cracked nut into his mouth. “I was asking why you felt the need to speak for the horse.”
“Because the horse and I are the same, Your Grace.” The fierceness of his own reply took Wyldon aback.
“I see.” Duke Gareth studied Wyldon for a long moment then asked, “You understand I’m going to have to punish you?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Wyldon nodded, relieved despite the prospect of punishment that the conversation was back on firmer, familiar ground.
“You can spend an extra hour on Sunday mucking out the stables,” Duke Gareth informed him, and Wyldon thought that wasn’t much of a punishment at all as he enjoyed spending what free time he had in the stables anyhow, and he suspected Duke Gareth knew that as he did so much else that went on at the palace. “That ought to be punishment enough in addition to taming that wild mount you bought.”
“I’ll be taming the horse myself?” Wyldon felt hope flare in his chest and was certain it must have sparked in his gaze as well.
“Most definitely.” Duke Gareth’s answer was tart and crisp as an autumn apple. “You won’t be be able to escape the consequences of your actions by sending the horse to Cavall, lad.”
Striving to be serious, because a boy wasn’t supposed to smile over his punishment, Wyldon promised, “I’ll take full responsibility training the stallion, Your Grace.”
“Very good.” Duke Gareth waved a hand in dismissal. “Do try not to snap your spine breaking the horse to bridle.”
Duke Gareth’s advice should have spooked him, Wyldon observed inwardly as he left the training master’s office, but instead he felt assured. Somehow there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would be able to make the horse obey him without breaking the stallion’s strong spirit. The stallion’s strong spirit was something to be treasured, not crushed—to be admired, not feared. The stallion was to be tamed but only as Wyldon himself had been tamed.
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: Noble Steed
Word Count: 1231
Summary: A young Wyldon rescues a noble steed.
Horsemeat
Eleven-year-old Wyldon fought a scowl as he finished brushing the tangles out of his pony’s coat. It was a constant source of frustration for him that pages as young as him weren’t permitted to ride real horses as he had done for years growing up in Cavall, where everyone who could afford it rode real horses. This especially grated on him because he knew deep in his bones that he was the best rider among all the pages and squires. If he were ever made training master, the ridiculous rule about pages younger than twelve having to ride ponies would be the first one to go, no disrespect intended to Duke Gareth, of course…
“Might want to hurry out before ye hear anything unpleasant.” Stefan paused in the door of Wyldon’s stall, water bucket in hand and hay in hair. “A group of guards will be takin’ a wild mount to the barracks where they say it can be of some use as horsemeat.”
Echoing through the stables, he heard a frantic whinny followed by the coarse curses common to those rough men who served as guardsmen at the palace. He pushed past Stefan and saw at the other end of the stables a group of guards straining on a rope wrapped tightly around the neck of a bucking dappled gray stallion. The stallion, hooves flailing, was yanking in the opposite direction, struggling valiantly to remain in the safety of the stall.
“Stop!” Wyldon shouted at the guards, trying to put the iron he heard in his own father’s voice when the Lord of Cavall expected to be obeyed without argument. He had to make the guards listen to him even though he was a mere page or else a handsome piece of horseflesh would become horsemeat, and he couldn’t let that happen. He had to speak for the horse who couldn’t speak. “I’ll buy that horse.”
“Ye don’t want this one, boy,” one guard grunted, veins throbbing in his throat as he continued to heave on the rope. “This one’s untamable, good only for horsemeat.”
“He’s spirited,” Wyldon snapped, seeing his own bravery and determination reflected in the stallion’s wide eyes that refused to surrender. “He’s not untamable. No horse is untamable.”
That’s what Father had always said, and no horse Wyldon had ever seen had proved Father wrong about that.
“How much will ye be payin’ for this spirited one then, eh?” The guard whose insignia represented the highest rank of those assembled demanded of Wyldon.
“Ten gold nobles.” Wyldon reached for the wallet strapped to his belt. Father, he thought, would understand the expense, since Father preferred horses to people.
“Ten gold nobles.” The leader of the guards snorted like a disdainful horse. “This stallion is worth twice that.”
“You’re going to turn him into horsemeat.” Wyldon folded his arms across his chest, glaring icily at the leader of the guards. “Ten gold nobles is more than enough to compensate you for that.”
“Ten gold nobles isn’t even worth the effort of draggin’ him out of his stall.” The leader of the guards made a sharp gesture at his men, who dropped the rope and shut the door swiftly on the stallion’s kicking legs. Extending a palm to Wyldon, he added irritably, “He’s yours for ten gold nobles, and that’ll buy us better food in the barracks than he ever would have been.”
Wyldon counted the gold nobles into the guard’s hand. He sensed that the guard believed he had won the confrontation since ten gold nobles was a tidy sum for a horse about to become horsemeat, but Wyldon didn’t care. To Wyldon, ten gold nobles was a small price to pay for saving a noble steed.
Wyldon stared absently at the backs of the departing guards, deciding that it would be best to give the stallion time to calm down before he entered the stall to remove the rope from the horse’s neck. Stefan, who must have watched the entire scene in silence, sidled up to him to remark, “They’ll report to His Grace that ye argued with ‘em.”
“Most likely,” agreed Wyldon, shrugging to show how little he cared about that. Any punishment he received from Duke Gareth for defying the guards would be more than worth it for rescuing a noble steed. His only regret was that he would have to send the horse to Cavall to be looked after in his father’s stable. He wouldn’t be allowed to ride the horse himself at the palace, and it was clear as glass that stallion needed to be run every day. That stallion was indeed a wild one.
Stefan’s prediction was proven true the next morning when Wyldon was summoned from his mathematics class to Duke Gareth’s office.
“A group of guards said you defied them when they sought to remove a wild mount from the stables to be made into horsemeat,” Duke Gareth commented without preamble once Wyldon rose from his bow.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Wyldon lowered his head, awaiting whatever sentence Duke Gareth would give him for his defiance.
“Why did you defy the guards?” Duke Gareth cracked open a nut.
“The horse couldn’t speak.” Wyldon was so surprised by the training master’s unexpected question that he lifted his head. “I had to speak for him.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t what I was asking.” Duke Gareth transferred the cracked nut into his mouth. “I was asking why you felt the need to speak for the horse.”
“Because the horse and I are the same, Your Grace.” The fierceness of his own reply took Wyldon aback.
“I see.” Duke Gareth studied Wyldon for a long moment then asked, “You understand I’m going to have to punish you?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Wyldon nodded, relieved despite the prospect of punishment that the conversation was back on firmer, familiar ground.
“You can spend an extra hour on Sunday mucking out the stables,” Duke Gareth informed him, and Wyldon thought that wasn’t much of a punishment at all as he enjoyed spending what free time he had in the stables anyhow, and he suspected Duke Gareth knew that as he did so much else that went on at the palace. “That ought to be punishment enough in addition to taming that wild mount you bought.”
“I’ll be taming the horse myself?” Wyldon felt hope flare in his chest and was certain it must have sparked in his gaze as well.
“Most definitely.” Duke Gareth’s answer was tart and crisp as an autumn apple. “You won’t be be able to escape the consequences of your actions by sending the horse to Cavall, lad.”
Striving to be serious, because a boy wasn’t supposed to smile over his punishment, Wyldon promised, “I’ll take full responsibility training the stallion, Your Grace.”
“Very good.” Duke Gareth waved a hand in dismissal. “Do try not to snap your spine breaking the horse to bridle.”
Duke Gareth’s advice should have spooked him, Wyldon observed inwardly as he left the training master’s office, but instead he felt assured. Somehow there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would be able to make the horse obey him without breaking the stallion’s strong spirit. The stallion’s strong spirit was something to be treasured, not crushed—to be admired, not feared. The stallion was to be tamed but only as Wyldon himself had been tamed.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!