“Why has Terba been ridden this morning?!” he demanded, towering over Natty with his broad frame and weathered features.

“For training,” she clearly and respectfully answered, tilting her head back slightly to look up at him.

“No one is supposed to ride him,” he scolded, “except the Colonel!” 

Then he slowly and icily asked, “Who told you otherwise?”

“The order was never for ‘training’ to only be done by the Colonel,” Natty steadfastly replied, ignoring Mariba’s glance of apprehension.  If she had actually been in the military, and talked back to him like this, she knew she could be severely punished, or thrown out in disgrace.

“He is never to be ridden out of the barn’s tracts by anyone except the Colonel,” she continued.  “I have kept him within these training fields.  Seeing as how Terba is a cavalry horse, and that the Royalty’s highest order is that all mounts be trained up – ”     

“Don’t you dare to tell me!” he snapped.  “I knew those decrees, years before you were ever even born!” 

He folded his knotted arms across his chest, and further growled, “If you can’t be trusted to do as you’re told, then you have no place on these grounds.”

Toe-to-toe, his presence was enough to make a wolf cower.  And such a thing had happened – – Natty had heard the tale.  As any fresh recruit could attest, every amount of status the Chief carried was not swagger, but respect, earned since the days when he himself had been cleaning stalls as a buck private.

And as he had been a horse-soldier himself for so many years, she knew he regarded the lives of their mounts as highly as those of their riders.  She certainly appreciated that about him.

Keeping her high regard for the man in mind, however, she did not wilt, as did the wolf in the story.  For the good of Terba – a most wonderful creature – the Colonel’s rank was no reason to let the horse’s skills be neglected. 

“These grounds,” she diplomatically asked, treading further on already thin ice, “where your command has been praised, for producing so many battle-ready mounts in the last year and a half, despite having so few uniformed trainers?” 

“But we did have you,” he said, completing the thought for her, with a voice that was less threatening, but more sly. 

“Now you’re thinking,” he cannily suggested, “‘What will the Colonel say, when the Chief banishes me, and the performance of these stables drops?’” 

Looking at his more civil demeanor, Natty suddenly felt a warning of apprehension.

“So, you want to talk about orders,” he stated, quite matter-of-factly, placing his hands on his hips.

“Then let’s see if the Colonel thinks your methods are more important than the orders.  Come on!” 

He turned to go, but quickly glanced back, and said to Mariba, “You too, Trooper Seilfen.” And then he purposefully strode off.

Bello gave a snort of protest as she left his stall, but Natty had to ignore his irritation at the moment.

The addition of her sister to the queue added new worry for her, as Mariba very highly cherished her own place in Rendart’s armed forces. 

“Now you’ve done it,” Mariba hissed at her, as they marched across the grounds, in the Sergeant’s wake.

Through clenched teeth, but silent to the Chief’s sharp ears, Mariba further berated her.  “All my work!  Is your gift so important, you had to prove how right you were, by taking me down with you?!”

Natty did not answer.

It was true, she shared a oneness with the equines that few humans could understand, even among this nation of horsemasters.  Delving deep into her innate ability to share in what the horses were feeling, she sensed their individual spirits in her own consciousness, and extended her understanding into the intelligent beasts’ own empathy, drawing them to her in return. 

However, no matter how great her joy in this rapport may be, the horses’ greatest station in life was not for the sake of her personal happiness.  This she had accepted years ago, as their true gift lay in completing their training, united in spirit with their riders, with courage, to stand against any foe they met.

Such was her dearest treasure, giving of herself in the spirit of a true field-guard, to lead them to their highest potential at home, and faithfully attend to their wellbeing abroad.  For each day she devoted to them, she was granted new wisdom and betterment of her skills, as she learned from the horses as well.   

But despite the truth of these things, she reflected, bringing herself back to the moment at hand, was it justified that Mariba should suffer for something she had done?

Certainly not, she thought with harsh rebuke, as they trudged along, and her cheeks started to warm with a blush of shame.

“Why is he taking us to see the Colonel?” she stealthily whispered.

“Idiot,” Mariba breathed.  “The Colonel can order your dismissal himself.  Then the results won’t fall on the Chief’s head.”

Natty took another moment of silence.

She could admonish herself for having been selfish at the stable, but she would not swear to never do it again.

Given time, she might think of a good reason why her results were ‘more important than the orders’.

Unfortunately, that time was denied her, as they quickly reached the large military lodge in the center of the training fields, and the Sergeant led them into the office of Colonel Arom Sawen.

*                                                          *                                                          *

The Colonel – veteran of the battlefield, and commander of the Rendart regiment stationed in the girls’ home town of Neldane – clearly not pleased at the interruption, stayed seated behind his large oak desk, and listened as the Sergeant had his say.

As always when she saw him, Natty noted his distinguished air, and his proud appearance.  The sunlight coming in through the window highlighted the gray spots in his dark hair, and cast his features in a chiseled, resolute fashion.

He was the unerring, consummate military officer.  Having fought many battles for Rendart, he, like the Chief, had worked his way up the hierarchy through his years of service. 

And as he required formal etiquette from all personnel under his command, he lived up to the same standard, in his conduct and attire.  His uniform was free of dirt, and stayed presentable at all times.  Likewise, his old sword, which had been his father’s, hung mounted on the wall behind his chair, and by his own hand was kept sharp, polished, and ready for use.

She would never begrudge him all that, nor doubt his honorable character.  But as she had told Mariba, to her thinking, he should spend less time on the propriety of his office, and work more with the horse who needed to know him, and have confidence to carry him into combat. 

Fortunately, he was known for having a strong interest in results as well as formalities.  And she was good at getting results.  But, as his eyes went back and forth between her and the Sergeant, Natty sensed an ominous mood building against her.

“And that’s the situation, sir,” Roaquin concluded, in his brief and one-sided account of things.

After the Chief finished, Sawen let his attention rest on Natty.  He did glance at her sister; but as she could see, he was only taking a moment to calmly measure her up with the weight of his authority.  The moment of silence did not help her confidence. 

“Well, Natalia,” he began, still not pleased, but maintaining a professional sense of patience.  “I’m tempted to ask, why a girl of your talent and upbringing would want to make so much trouble.  Despite your youth, but given your kinship with the horses, it was only natural to allow you to work with them.”

The particular emphasis he placed on the word, ‘allow’, was not lost on her; and the ‘dismissal’ word, which Mariba had used earlier, loomed large in her mind. 

“But talent is no excuse,” he continued, “for riding my horse, which all hands at the stable were told not to touch.”

She wanted to stick up for herself, and recite the order exactly as it had been spoken.  She quickly discarded that notion, as a contradiction based on details at this moment, would be as foolhardy as her telling him how to do his job.

“It’s not a time for excuses, sir,” she answered, on sudden inspiration, “when it’s time for battle, and the horses – ”

“Quiet,” he succinctly interrupted.

The word cut her deep.  Although it had been a simple, two-syllable snippet, his tone of voice – a hint of anger, covered by a disguised undertone of annoyance – revealed to her his true feelings.

She was still ‘just’ a civilian in his eyes – and a young one at that – who happened to make herself useful.  She was not the kind of military personnel he preferred dealing with, for whom the proper procedure and discipline had been drilled into place. 

Regardless of her having done so much, to turn spirited young animals into warhorses and fulfill the mission of their cavalry, he did not trust her.

Seeing how all her good work and dedication mattered so little to him, a lump of frustration quickly rose in her throat.  But she kept her feelings from outburst, and her face impassive.

“Mariba,” he said, shifting his eyes away from Natty, “are you able to take some responsibility for this, or are you blameless?”

As Mariba stayed standing at parade rest, a chill ran up Natty’s backbone, just a tiny bit.

Sergeant Roaquin verbally pounced, like a crow on a corpse.  “Do you want to be demoted to stable-hand, so you’ll always be around to supervise her?  No matter what, this business ends today.”

Natty briefly wondered, whether both large men would be enough to pull Mariba off of her, if her dear sister decided then and there, to vent her fury for such a shameful turn of events.  For, although the elder Seilfen daughter had the excellent temperament and judgment of a great horse-woman and soldier, she held within her heart of hearts a special type of anger, for anyone who endangered her rank or the fruits of her labors. 

Given how she felt at the moment, Natty found she did not care if she unleashed her wrath. 

However, to her surprise, Mariba stood quite still, exhibiting stoic composure and control of her emotions. With just a slight clearing of the throat, she answered. 

“Colonel.  Chief Master Sergeant,” she began, with posture straight, and an authoritative timbre in her voice.

“I have given it some thought,” she said, “and would like to point out, there is more than one way to put down a little contrariness.  Corporal Caomh’s squad is leaving in two days, for a mission to Falconrake.  Our honorable ally to the southeast is attempting to stem the intrusion of orc raiders into their territory. 

“Following our standard tactics, he and his troop will serve as spotters, and use the speed of their mounts to coordinate the defense.    

“Since Natty wants to fill the role of field-guard so badly, why not give her a chance to do so on this journey? 

“A field-guard was not deemed necessary to begin with.  So, if she’s as good as she claims, she should make their excursion proceed more smoothly, and save time on the road. 

“Once in Falconrake, she should have little chance of coming close to any real danger, but still tend to the horses, between their sorties of reconnaissance.

“If she is not able to fulfill those duties to the Corporal’s satisfaction, let her receive a change in her responsibilities.  Let her be restricted to the saddle-breaking of three-year-olds at the stable.”

“And how do you know of that mission, Lancer Seilfen, since it doesn’t concern you or your own squad?” the Colonel asked, with a sharp glint in his eye.

“I have my ways, sir,” she replied, unflinching.

Natty bit back her smile at the gross understatement of her big sister’s response, and the suspicious looks the two officers gave her.

Mariba had answered her own call of duty in life, and Natty continuously admired her, for the blood, sweat, and tears she had put in to achieving it.

She had rightly earned the uniform of the mounted cavalry, sworn to ride her own fine steed into battle under Rendart’s banner, and fight for king and country.

But Mariba’s passion did not end with the brandishing of her lance, amid the thundering of hooves across the theater of war.  The drive of knowing what was taking place in the armed forces, as it affected not only her squad, but the whole regiment as well, burned brightly within her, and was never sated.  As she worked hard to fulfill her duties, so did she also have a certain knack for being present, or just passing by, wherever soldiers, officers, couriers, military family members, field-guards or even uniform tailors happened to be.  Hence, her especially keen gift of listening, even to things unsaid, kept her abreast of all kinds of information above the rank and file, which no one of her junior grade had any business knowing.  Caomh’s mission was only a small fraction of the things she could mention off the top of her head.

But neither of the men needed to know that at the moment.  Natty just held her breath, trying not to look like she was holding it, and watched the Colonel, very carefully.

Again, Roaquin spoke up.  “May I ask, sir, that you do send her?”

“Are you certain you want to place a civilian in Caomh’s care for an official mission, Chief?” Sawen asked, in all seriousness.

“Trooper Seilfen has offered acceptable terms.  Let her be out of my hair, at least for a while.”

“And what if I’m successful?” Natty interjected.

They both looked back at her.

“If I fulfill what is asked of me on this assignment, I want to be part of the next out-bound patrol.  I also want to work with the horses in all the regiment’s stables, using my own judgment.”

“You ask too much,” came Sawen’s immediate retort.  “If the title of field-guard applied to you, so would its rules.  Those who hold the title are under military chain of command, even though they’re non-combatants.  Your work under Chief Roaquin would be by his approval, not by any authorization of your own, no matter how good you are.  Step out of line, and you’ll be dismissed, with removal of all privileges.”

“Then let my oath be accepted, because my work is as trustworthy as those others,” she persisted, straightening her shoulders a bit more. “I swear to serve the wellbeing of our kingdom, our countrymen, and our horses.  When I take action to fulfill that vow, it’s for a good reason.  Let me answer to the Chief, but let my voice be given the same respect as any recognized field-guard.”

Sawen looked at Roaquin.

In his most civil tone of the day, the Chief Master Sergeant looked squarely back at her, and told her, “You’re still too young.”

She made not make a sound, or even a twitch.  She took a moment of satisfaction, knowing she was maintaining her composure, in the face of such disappointment.

As she stood stock-still, however, he continued.

“But if you show your reliability on this mission, then you can have your greater decision-making power, depending on my say-so, and live up to your vow.  Each horse must prove themselves when a soldier takes the reins.  And you will have this authority only in your current stable.

“Take it, or leave it.”

“Chief,…” Sawen began.

“If she wants to train your horse, sir, I see no reason why the regiment should not trust her to do so.  However, she’ll have to convince me to convince you that she’s the best one for the job.”

With that, Roaquin looked back at her, waiting for her response.

Imitating Mariba’s military poise to the fullest, Natty evenly replied, “I won’t let you down, Chief.”

The Colonel gave a minute nod, and stood up, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Very well, Natalia Seilfen.  Even though you don’t wear the uniform, you’re going to fill an official post.  And if you don’t perform as required, then you’ll be restricted as your sister suggested for no less than one full year, with no consideration for the field-guard position during that time.  Is that clear?”

Natty kept herself calm for all the world to see.  As her arms hung loosely at her sides, she scrunched her toes into tight little knots inside her boots, holding back her excitement.

Letting a small smile escape, she simply and politely answered, “Yes, sir.”