"You shure 'bout that one, son?", the stable master asked for the third time. "'Plenty of other 'orses. Normal 'orses, a'lot gentler than him."

It was early morning under the purple horizon, the sun just beginning to awake. The Knighting Ceremony ended serveral hours ago. Leondre had entered the Headmasters office as a second-year student attending the Royal Military Academy. And walked out as a newly annointed Knight of the Realm carrying a holy relic. Roi Soleil was now firmly sheathed within its scabbard, attached to his belt

The Academy had sent him off with a grand full honors. His classmates were cheering him on, while third-years patted him on the back or shook his hands. Even the upper class men, some fourth and fifth years, had gathered to see him go. Leondres' personal belongings and clothes were already packed in his luggage, awaiting him.

What he needed now was a mount, to saddle all this baggage with. As a parting gift, Grandmaster Bennett offered Leondre a choice of steads from his own personal stalls. Which is why he was currently having this conversation right now.

"The Grandmaster said it was at my own discretion." Leondre spoke, his voice firmer this time.

"Son. I'm telling you, not d'his one. Lads think riding big 'ellows like him, means somethan. They wanta' strutt 'around, impress the missus —," He glares meaningfully at sixteen year-old knight, "but don't bother takin' care of him themselves."

Leondre knew what the stable master was referring to of course. A Knight's stead was as important as their lives. They are his constant companion during travels, his partner on the battlefield. It is they whom shoulder his burdens.

Some knights saw their steads no more than trophies to flaunt and look good with. Leondre glanced at the fierce looking Rhoan in the last stall. He read in a book that this breed of battle chargers were descended from an mythical animal, a unicorn. At what point they turned from pure white beings of happyness, to vicious black coated terrors, he didn't know. But the bony protrusions sticking out of their heads, shaped like bowties, were proof enough.

[All-Mother! The childrens book never mentioned how huge they are. I wonder if all Rhoans are this big, or perhaps this one was bred by a race of giants.]

The stable master shook his head silently at the youngster daydreaming beside him. He had no idea where or why the Grandmaster had gotten such an exotic breed. Hell, it barely even qualified as a horse. The damn thing ate less than any normal horse should at his size, and he had a suspicion there was an intelligence lurking beneath those eyes.

"Son." The stable master said.

"Huh—es?" Leondre replied, slightly startled.

"It won't be easy, but I'll get the wicked devil tacked up for you."

"Really? I can't thank you enough! You have my word as a Knight of the Realm, I shall take responsibility for this horse." Leondre shaked the stable master's hand eagerly, excitement swelling in his chest.

"Son, you can let go now."

"Sorry." Leondre pulled away, the grin on his face apologetic. [Oh right. I wonder, does this rhoan have a name?]

"Say, stable master. Does he have a name?"

The stable master snorts, "Besides 'Pain-in-the-arse', no." On cue, as the stable master attempted securing its reins. The horse swings it's ebony log of a head, nearly pulling the man off his feet.

Leondre may have been imagining it. But he could have sworn the Rhoan had something akin to a malicious grin on his face.

"Enough of that," he snaps at the charger. The stable master tentatively enters the blacks' stall, saddle in hand as the horse growls. 'Mithra, did I hear that right?' Never in his life had he thought to hear such a thing eminate from a horse.

Out sight, Leondre listened to the sound of stomping and at one point, a solid bang to the stall followed by a string of curses.

The stablemaster re-emerges sweating, and dusts himself off before handing the reins to Leondre.

"Quick at it son! Bring the reins close under his jaw, less you want'em biting your hands clean off. I'm telling you, that beastie ain't normal. Sharp teeth, that one."

'No big problem, just do like you always have at home. Worked well enough in the academy, it will work here too.' Leondre thought, nervously.

He walked steadily but without fear toward the mid-night black animal. The rhoans ears stay pinn flat, nostrils flaring as he snorted uneasily, but makes no other sign of aggression. Carefully Leondre reached out and stroked his neck.

"Hold it son, I never seen him that quiet before..." The stable master started to comment when the horse snaked his head around lightening fast, biting Leondre hard on the arm.

With a yelp he jumps away, sporting already swelling bite marks beginning to bleed. The horse snorts one last time in his direction before going back to his fodder.

"What in the seven blazes was that!"

The stablemaster carefully tiptoes over, making sure to stay well out of reach of the Rhoans jagged teeth."'Well I did warn you. In saying that, I think he likes you."

"He likes me?!" Leondre retorted incredulously, waving his bloodied arm in front of his face.

"Oh yes. If he didn't like you, he would'ev ripped the skin right off!" The stablemaster nods animatedly.

"Mithra...," Leondre says glancing at the horse, "Are you sure he even eats like a normal horse? Seems to have an inclination for something other than plants or oats."

"Meat? I've seen him eat rats bigger than me own dog before." He replies innocently, offering up a clean linen rag and bucket full of sud.

"Bête Noir." Leondre states blankly, gazing directly at the black Rhoan, as he cleans his arm.

"Betty no—what?" The man frowns as he looks to the teenager for clarification. But the teen waves him off, dropping the blood-stained rag into the bucket.

"His name, because I'm sure he'll be the bane to my existence."