Colonel

Heavy boots pounded rhythmically on the fort's wooden floor, echoing loudly. The colonel stepped out into the palely lit courtyard, adjusting his light gray hunting gloves as he walked. Discipline is everything. Order, an iron will, and obedience are the only tools capable of taming this chaotic, wild land. And now he faced the next task of establishing that very order.

The colonel approached, his expression unchanged. His long hair, falling to his shoulders from beneath a blue hat with a yellow ribbon, was gently ruffled by the wind. He stopped a few steps from Geist, arms crossed over his chest, and watched intently as she proudly tossed her head and nervously twitched backward, trying to free herself from the halter.

A young mare stood before him. A sandy coat, a dark mane streaked with white... She oozed that same wild, unbridled blood he so hated and yet, deep down, respected. This horse wasn't just prey. She was a challenge.

The man turned his gaze back to the horse, his thick mustache twitching slightly in a semblance of a grin.

"Hold her tight," he said through gritted teeth, addressing the mercenaries, his voice even and commanding. "We don't need her getting hurt before we get started."

The man turned his gaze back to the horse, his thick mustache twitching slightly in a semblance of a grin.

"Look," he said, speaking more to himself than to the others. "Proud. Twitching. It's in her blood. Savagery." He took another step forward, assessing her form. "Do you know what I do with savagery? I break it. I force it into line. The cavalry doesn't tolerate willfulness, and you'll soon understand that."

He raised his gloved hand, gesturing for his subordinates to tighten the reins.

"Tie her up in a separate pen. Alone. Without other horses. Let her cool down and think about her behavior. And tomorrow... tomorrow we'll start breaking her in. We'll see if her spirit is as strong as she seems."