The walk back from the stables was considerably quieter than the journey there. Arthur led the way through the castle corridors while Leon and Raymond followed behind, none of them speaking. Each was occupied with their own thoughts. The discoveries made during the past few days had already exceeded every expectation they had initially possessed regarding Leon's awakening, and yet questions continued multiplying faster than answers.
By the time they reached Arthur's office, another report was already waiting. Cedric stood beside the desk with a folded document in his hands. Arthur immediately noticed the seal. "The mare?"
Cedric nodded. "The stable master requested that this be delivered immediately."
That gained everyone's attention. Arthur took the report and began reading, his eyes moving steadily across the page before stopping. A faint crease appeared between his brows.
Raymond noticed first. "What happened?"
Arthur remained silent for several seconds, then handed the report over. Raymond skimmed it and his eyes widened. "What?"
Leon stepped closer. "What is it?"
Raymond looked up. "The mare." He blinked. "Its pregnancy is advancing faster than it should."
Arthur finally spoke. "The stable master estimates the foal may arrive within a week."
The room went silent. Leon stared. "A week?" The mare had already been pregnant for some time before the transformation, but even accounting for that, a week was absurd.
Cedric adjusted his spectacles. "The stable hands have been keeping detailed records since your instructions were issued. The increase in appetite continues—the animal is consuming nearly three times its previous feed—and according to the stable master, physical development appears to be accelerating."
Arthur leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest as he thought. A normal foal would require months. Not days. If the report was accurate, everything changed.
Raymond was the first to say it. "If these creatures grow this quickly..."
Arthur nodded. "We may have usable results far sooner than expected."
The room fell silent once more. For the first time since discovering Leon's ability, the benefits no longer felt distant. The transformed foal was no longer some future possibility. It was becoming immediate.
Arthur rose from his chair and moved toward the large map hanging on the wall, his gaze settling upon Highcrest before shifting southward toward the growing concentration of orc forces. The situation beyond the walls remained uncertain—scouts continued reporting nothing, which worried him more than any report could have. The orcs were preparing something. That much was obvious. The only unknown was when.
"If this growth rate continues," Arthur said quietly, "we may possess usable assets long before the orcs complete whatever they're preparing."
Raymond's eyes immediately lit up. "Cavalry."
Arthur didn't even turn around. "No."
Raymond looked personally offended. "No?"
Arthur finally glanced back. "No."
Raymond spread his arms dramatically. "We finally have faster horses."
"They have better uses elsewhere."
The older brother looked horrified. "You wound me." Arthur ignored him. "Cavalry died out centuries ago for a reason. Elite warriors move faster than ordinary horses. They fight better on foot. And they're significantly harder to kill."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "The romance?"
Raymond stepped forward. "A warrior and his mount charging together. One spear. One will. Thunder across the battlefield. The ancient kings conquered half the continent like that."
Arthur stared at him, then calmly replied. "And most of them died."
Leon rubbed his forehead. Here we go again.
Raymond pointed accusingly. "You never support any of my good ideas."
"I support all your good ideas," Arthur replied.
Raymond opened his mouth, paused, then frowned. "That felt insulting."
"It should," Arthur said.
Leon sighed. The strange thing was that Raymond was normally one of the most reasonable people Leon knew—competent, reliable, calm. Yet whenever Arthur was involved something changed, the two of them somehow bringing out entirely different sides of each other. Like fire and water. Or perhaps two stubborn mountains refusing to move.
Arthur turned back toward the map. "A faster horse changes many things. Scouting. Courier routes. Reconnaissance." His expression sharpened slightly. "Until now, Orc Chieftains have dominated pursuit. Their stamina allows them to run down most scouts eventually, forcing our people to stay farther away from enemy positions than we'd prefer." He tapped a section of the map. "A horse capable of maintaining superior speed changes that equation. For the first time our scouts could probe deeper without constantly worrying whether they'll be able to escape afterward. Messages arrive sooner. Warnings reach us earlier." His gaze remained fixed upon the map. "Information wins wars."
Raymond looked unconvinced. "But cavalry sounds cooler."
Arthur didn't even look up. "It does."
That surprised everyone. Even Raymond blinked. Arthur continued. "It is also less useful." The brief hope died instantly. Raymond groaned. "You've done it again."
Arthur folded his arms. "If you dislike my conclusions so much, you're free to devise alternatives."
Raymond froze, then slowly looked up. "Really?"
Arthur shrugged. "Go ahead."
The response was so casual that Leon almost missed it. Raymond certainly didn't. His eyes immediately lit up and a grin spread across his face—the kind that usually preceded trouble. "Oh, don't worry." He stood. "I absolutely will." Then he turned and marched toward the door.
Arthur watched him leave, and rather than irritation a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, as though that had been exactly the reaction he wanted. Leon noticed, and suddenly suspected Arthur knew Raymond far better than Raymond realized.
The door slammed shut. Silence returned. Cedric quietly pretended none of that had happened. Arthur resumed studying reports.
The meeting gradually wound down. Before leaving, Leon hesitated. "There was something else."
Arthur looked up. Leon shifted slightly. "I didn't mention it earlier because I wasn't certain." That immediately gained Arthur's attention. "What is it?"
Leon thought for a moment. "After each major headache—the really bad ones—the crystal and my eyes feel different afterward."
"Easier." Leon frowned. "Using them becomes easier. The strain feels lower." He searched for the right words. "It's similar to training a muscle. Push it, rest, recover, and then the next time it performs a little better."
For several moments nobody spoke. Then Arthur slowly set down the report he had been holding. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"
Leon blinked. "Because I wasn't sure."
Arthur looked almost disappointed. "This is significant." Even Cedric's eyebrows rose slightly. Arthur leaned forward. "If repeated use improves efficiency, then the limitations we've observed may not be permanent." Leon nodded slowly—that was what he had been wondering as well. "We may be able to expand testing far sooner than I originally planned." For the first time that day genuine satisfaction appeared in his expression. Not excitement—Arthur rarely showed excitement—but satisfaction, as though another piece of the puzzle had finally fallen into place.
Eventually the meeting ended. Leon left the office feeling considerably lighter than when he'd entered. The future remained uncertain, the orcs were still out there, the siege still loomed. But for the first time in weeks, progress felt tangible. Not theoretical. Real.
He stepped into the corridor and immediately found Raymond waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall with a suspicious smile already plastered across his face. Leon stopped. That smile never meant anything good.
Raymond crooked a finger. "Come here."
Leon narrowed his eyes. "No."
"Come here."
"Why?"
Raymond's grin widened. Leon reluctantly approached, and the closer he got the worse his feeling became. "What are you planning now?" he asked cautiously.
Raymond looked offended. "Planning? Me? Never."
Leon stared. Raymond stared back. Neither believed that for even a second.
Finally Raymond sighed dramatically. "Fine." Then he revealed the hand he'd been hiding behind his back. Something rested in his palm. An egg.
Leon blinked. Then blinked again. "...An egg?"
Raymond looked personally insulted. "An eagle egg," he corrected, as though that somehow made everything better.
Leon wasn't convinced. "Raymond."
"Yes?"
"What exactly are you doing with an eagle egg?"
The grin returned—bigger than before, far bigger. "Father said cavalry is obsolete." Leon suddenly didn't like where this was going. Raymond raised the egg proudly, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement. "So I came up with something even cooler."
Leon slowly backed away. "No."
"Oh yes."
"No."
Raymond pointed dramatically toward the nearest window—toward the open sky beyond. "I'm going to build aerial artillery."
Leon closed his eyes. For several seconds he considered pretending he didn't know this man. Unfortunately he did. And somehow that worried him far more than the egg.