Leon had never felt exhaustion quite like this before. The moment Arthur released his grip, his legs nearly gave out again. The headache pounding behind his eyes had become unbearable, each heartbeat sending another wave of pain through his skull. His body felt hollow, drained, as though something essential had been ripped out of him. Even standing required effort, and the stable floor seemed strangely unsteady beneath his feet.
"Easy." Arthur kept a hand on his shoulder to steady him. For once there was no trace of the City Lord's usual stern composure. Only concern.
Leon attempted a weak smile. "I'll be fine."
"You can barely stand." Raymond snorted. The older brother had long since abandoned any attempt to hide his worry.
Leon wanted to argue. Then his vision swam, and the argument died immediately.
Arthur studied him for several seconds before reaching a decision almost instantly. "No more testing."
Leon opened his mouth. Arthur raised a hand. "No." The single word ended the discussion. "You've proven the ability works." His gaze briefly shifted toward the mare. "That is enough for today."
Leon reluctantly nodded. Truthfully he wasn't certain he could perform another transformation even if he wanted to—the headache alone was making it difficult to think.
"Two days," Arthur continued.
Leon blinked. "What?"
"Two days of rest." Raymond immediately nodded in agreement. "A miracle. Father finally said something intelligent." Arthur ignored him. "You will eat, you will sleep, and you will not touch another pregnant animal until you've recovered."
Leon sighed. "You're both overreacting."
Raymond stared at him. Leon stared back. A moment later he looked away. "...Fine."
Before leaving the stable, Arthur called over the stable master. The older man hurried over immediately. "My lord?"
Arthur gestured toward the mare. "I want this one moved."
The stable master looked confused. "Moved, my lord?"
"To the inner castle stables. Separate enclosure. Restricted access."
The man blinked. "Has something happened?"
Arthur answered without hesitation. "The city may soon face a prolonged siege." He rested a hand upon the mare's neck. "Valuable breeding stock should not remain exposed."
The stable master glanced toward the mare, and now that his attention was fully on the animal he couldn't help noticing how healthy it looked. Its coat appeared unusually glossy, its posture energetic, and even its eyes seemed brighter than before. Looking at the mare's lively appearance, he found himself nodding in agreement—indeed, it was an exceptionally fine specimen. "Of course, my lord."
"Assign two trusted stable hands," Arthur continued. "Nobody else is to handle the mare without permission. Ensure she receives the highest quality feed available." This chapter is updated first at novelping . com.
The stable master's eyes widened slightly—that level of attention for a single horse was unusual. Still, he bowed. "It will be done."
Arthur nodded. "Good." The man hurried away to carry out the orders. Only after he had left did Arthur allow himself another glance toward the mare. The animal looked entirely ordinary. And yet nothing about it was ordinary anymore.
The journey back to the castle was quiet—partly because Arthur had already fallen into thought, partly because Leon lacked the energy to speak. By the time they reached the castle his headache had only worsened, and Raymond practically dragged him up the stairs.
"I'm walking."
"Barely."
"I'm perfectly capable."
"You just walked into a wall."
"I was distracted."
"There wasn't even a corner there."
Leon decided silence was the wiser option.
The remainder of the afternoon passed slowly. Leon slept, woke, ate, then slept again. The exhaustion lingered stubbornly, and each time he woke he felt slightly better—but only slightly.
Meanwhile the city continued preparing for war. Reports flowed endlessly into Arthur's office. Messengers arrived. Commanders departed. New problems replaced old ones before solutions could even be discussed.
By evening the main command staff had gathered once more. Cedric stood beside a large map spread across the conference table with several officers waiting nearby. Arthur entered last, taking his seat at the head of the table. "Report."
Cedric adjusted his glasses. "The situation around Highcrest has deteriorated further." The room immediately grew serious. Arthur nodded. "Continue."
"The orcs have completed consolidation of their outer camps." Cedric pointed toward several locations marked around Highcrest. "Multiple encampments have merged into larger fortified positions. Wooden palisades have been constructed. Supply routes have been established."
Arthur's expression hardened. "They're settling in."
"Yes, my lord." Cedric's finger moved across the map. "More concerning is the change in their patrol structure." Several officers exchanged glances. "Orc Chieftains have begun accompanying patrol groups."
A low murmur spread through the room. Arthur remained silent, waiting.
"Our scouts can no longer operate freely," Cedric said. "Ordinary reconnaissance has become extremely dangerous."
Roland grimaced. "How bad?"
Cedric's expression darkened. "We've already lost two Silver Rank scouts." The room fell silent. That information carried weight—Silver Rank warriors were valuable, Silver Rank scouts even more so, and training replacements would take years. You are reading on novelping.com, the official source.
Arthur folded his hands. "Details."
Cedric nodded. "Both teams were discovered attempting to approach the outer camps. Neither successfully returned, and their trackers found signs of pursuit." His gaze shifted toward the map. "The pursuing forces included multiple Chieftains."
General Elara frowned. "Orc chieftains are Peak Silver at minimum—most are Gold Rank." Her expression darkened. "That makes reconnaissance almost impossible."
Cedric nodded. The implications were obvious. Ordinary scouts could evade ordinary orcs—just barely—relying on their intelligence, training, and hard-earned techniques. That advantage vanished once Chieftains entered the equation. They were faster, stronger, relentless, and most importantly their stamina exceeded that of humans. A prolonged chase heavily favored the orcs.
"Our latest estimates suggest dozens of Orc Lords are present," Cedric continued. Several commanders visibly stiffened. Dozens—that number alone was alarming.
"And Chieftains?" Arthur asked.
Cedric looked down at the report. "Several hundred."
Silence followed. Even Arthur seemed troubled by that figure. General Elara finally spoke. "This is no raiding force."
"No." Arthur's gaze settled upon Highcrest. "It's an army."
No one disagreed, because every report pointed toward the same conclusion. The orcs weren't preparing a simple assault—they were preparing for a campaign. A long one. A deliberate one. And if Highcrest eventually fell, those same armies would not simply disappear.
Much later that night, Leon found himself awake once more. The castle had grown quiet, with only distant footsteps occasionally echoing through the halls. The headache had mostly faded, and in its place came a familiar warmth—subtle, gentle—flowing outward from the crystal embedded within his forehead.
This wasn't the first time he had noticed it. After each bout of overexertion, once the worst of the pain passed, the crystal seemed to respond somehow, almost as though it were providing feedback. Or adapting. The previous headaches had been minor enough that he had mostly ignored the feeling. This time was different. The exhaustion had been severe, the backlash far greater, and as a result the warmth felt clearer than ever before.
Though a lingering heaviness remained within his body, something else had changed. When Leon cautiously reached out with his ocular abilities, the response came more naturally than before—the effort felt lighter, smoother, and the distant outlines he perceived through closed eyes appeared sharper than he remembered. Even the strain seemed reduced. The same sensation lingered around the crystal as well. Not stronger exactly. But more familiar. More responsive.
Leon frowned thoughtfully. The feeling reminded him of training—a warrior's muscles grew stronger through repeated exertion and proper rest. Perhaps awakened powers worked in a similar way. Each time he pushed his eyes and crystal to their limits, then recovered, they adapted ever so slightly. Or perhaps he was simply imagining things. Either way, the change felt real. Was it his imagination? Or did repeated use actually strengthen his abilities? The question lingered in his mind long after the castle had fallen silent.
He lay upon his bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. His thoughts drifted back toward the stable, toward the vision, toward the silver horse racing endlessly across the plains. The Silverwind Steed. Then beyond that, to the countless other possibilities he had glimpsed—the creatures that had seemed impossible, unreachable, dangerous. And finally to Arthur's question.
Why horses?
Leon frowned. Because Arthur had been right. The horse wasn't important. The unborn foal was. Slowly another realization followed. If the crystal could affect an unborn horse, then why not a calf? Or a lamb? Or a hunting hound?
The thought lingered, growing larger the longer he considered it. The stable had only been the beginning—a single test, a single success, nothing more. Yet the possibilities stretching beyond that success suddenly seemed enormous.
For the first time since awakening, Leon found himself wondering not what his power could do, but where its limits truly lay.
And somehow, that question felt far more dangerous.