Chapter 35: Let me teach you how to ride!
The group made their way toward the great arched exit of Brimhold City, a city of iron towers and whispering banners.
The sun had just begun its descent, casting long amber streaks across the cobblestone path as the twelve generals advanced in a loose yet dignified formation.
Laughter and banter drifted in the air as the group moved with the quiet confidence of seasoned warriors. Lola and Conrad Stan flanked the Black Dragon—Josh Aratat—walking beside him like loyal shadows, their armor gleaming subtly under the afternoon sun. Slightly behind them trailed Ralia Amia, her silver-plated boots clicking softly with each step.
Following her came the remaining ten generals: Adino, Shammah, Joab, Limro, Arroid, Baggon, Eliphaz, Lino, Miko, and Naze, their collective presence emanating calm strength and camaraderie.
As they approached the city gate—an imposing stone structure manned by seventeen guards in dark violet armor, each standing at attention like statues—something unusual caught their eyes.
To the right of the gate, lined neatly by the weathered city wall, stood fourteen magnificent black horses. Their coats shimmered like polished obsidian, their manes flowing like ink in the wind. Tall and muscular, they stamped the ground occasionally, sending small tufts of dust into the air, their breath steaming faintly in the cooling air.
The group slowed to a halt. Curiosity flickered on their faces, mingling with cautious wonder. No one said a word—until the silence was broken by the sound of hurried footsteps.
From the inner courtyard, a figure emerged in a swirl of movement. The regional lord, clad in ornate purple robes trimmed with golden thread, came sprinting toward them. The wind caught the hem of his robes and lifted his white curly hair like dandelion fluff being teased by a breeze. His cheeks were flushed, and his chest heaved with every breath as he skidded to a stop in front of Josh Aratat.
He dropped to one knee, gasping for air.
"My lord… Black Dragon…" he wheezed, his voice raw with exertion.
Josh instinctively reached forward, placing a steady hand on the man's shoulder to keep him from collapsing. Despite being a cultivator at the second rank of the Ocean Opening Realm, the regional lord had lived most of his life as a gentle administrator—more accustomed to scrolls and governance than physical strain.
"Easy now," Josh said calmly, his voice low and commanding.
The regional lord steadied himself, and with an eager, boyish smile, gestured toward the horses.
"I—I went to Region 31 just yesterday," he began, still panting. "I bought these horses for your journey. They're fast, well-trained, and all black—just like your title… the Black Dragon." His eyes sparkled, like a child eager for approval.
Josh's eyes softened. He looked at the line of steeds again and then back at the regional lord. "This must have cost a fortune," he said, quietly moved. "You should've let us manage until we had the funds."
He knew the value of what stood before him. These weren't just any horses—they were Varnakian War Steeds, bred for both endurance and speed.
One was worth no less than a hundred NBE (Nazare Blade Empire) gold coins. Fourteen of them amounted to a staggering 1,400 gold coins—a sum that could support a small village for years. This man had likely emptied his vaults.
The regional lord opened his mouth to protest, but Josh gently patted his back, a quiet gesture of gratitude.
"When I return," Josh said with a slight smile behind his black mask, "I'll repay you."
"No, my lord," the regional lord said quickly, waving his hands. "Please, it's an honour—"
Josh silenced him with another warm pat, his touch reassuring. "It's settled," he said simply, then turned his gaze to Conrad Stan.
Without words, the Black Dragon's second-in-command understood the silent command. He stepped forward, clapping his hands together.
"Everyone, pick a horse!" Conrad bellowed. "Seems fortune is smiling on us today!"
Cheers rose up from several generals, and a murmur of excitement rippled through the group. But just as the excitement built, five voices cut through the moment—Lola, Ralia Amia, and three other generals called out nearly in unison.
"We don't know how to ride…"
Josh exhaled, chuckling softly beneath his mask. His black eyes gleamed with amusement as he adjusted it.
"Alright," he said, walking over to Lola with the easy grace of a warrior king. "I'll teach you myself."
Then he turned to the others, his voice rising slightly.
"Those of you who can ride, pair up with those who can't. We'll spend an hour teaching them. No one gets left behind."
The group began to pair off, some already climbing into saddles, others laughing awkwardly as they tried to figure out the reins. The horses neighed softly, sensing the energy of their new riders. And so, under the fading sun, on the edge of Brimhold's ancient gates, the Black Dragon's army began their final preparations—not just for departure, but for the journey that would change everything.
Josh had expected the disparity. It was already impressive that nine among them could ride. Teaching the remaining five wouldn't take long—an hour should be enough, especially at their level. Their cultivation granted them more than strength: sharper reflexes, heightened memory, and an accelerated grasp of physical coordination.
The camp buzzed with quiet laughter and hooves scraping against the earth as riders paired off. Conrad Stan, ever the opportunist, had forcefully volunteered to teach Ralia Amia. The winks from their fellow generals didn't go unnoticed, nor did the way Amia had raised a curious brow before mounting with a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
Josh, on the other hand, calmly seated himself behind Lola on a tall, black steed. His gloved hands reached around her sides, capturing the reins in front of her. His chest nearly touched her back.
"Relax, Lola. You won't fall," he said with a soft chuckle. The warmth of his breath brushed her ear, sending tremors through her body.
She tried to still her racing heart, but Josh could hear it—like a battle drum echoing in the silence between them.
"You hold it like this," he said, adjusting her fingers on the reins, his voice low and patient. "And if you want it to speed up—just nudge your heels lightly against the horse's sides, like this…"
He gently demonstrated, and Lola obeyed. The horse responded immediately, breaking into a trot. Her instincts took over—graceful, fluid, in control. She circled the group, her posture poised, her confidence blooming.
Josh leaned back, letting her take the lead. He smiled, amused and impressed, content in the rhythm of her movements and the scent of her hair drifting toward him. She smelled of wildflowers and something warm and feminine—like sunlight after rain.
She wanted to speak, to break the tension, but the words never came. She was too aware of him, of the firmness of his body pressed against her back, the steadiness of his breath, the power in his stillness. She'd buried these feelings once—dutifully, stubbornly—but now, with him so near, they rose like tides under moonlight.
Not far from them, things were spiralling quickly in another direction.
Conrad Stan sat behind Ralia Amia, and no amount of discipline could hide what was happening. Her silk dress clung to her body. And every motion of the horse pressed her against him—taut, rhythmic, torturous. He clenched his jaw. He tried to think of something—anything—else.
But she made it worse.
"So," Ralia purred, voice honeyed and wicked, "you do want to sleep with me…"
Conrad flinched. Her words burned.
"I-I'm not trying to—" he began, but his voice cracked like dry wood.
She leaned back just slightly, her spine brushing against him in a way that made his breath hitch.
"I can feel your crotch," she said, no longer teasing but stating it. "You're not exactly hiding it, Second General."
Conrad's mouth went dry. "I—I didn't mean for this to happen. I swear I didn't."
"So you're not interested in me?" she pressed.
"I am! That's not— I mean—damn it, yes. Yes, I want you. I think about you. I want everything. I want children. I want a chance. I'd pay any price. Just—don't mock me with it."
Her smirk faltered. Just a little. Her eyes flickered with something more complex.
"And if I told you," she said slowly, "that I could mess with your mind—bend your feelings, drown you in a love that's not even yours to feel—what then, Conrad?"
He swallowed hard. "Then I'd ask… if you ever really needed to."
Before she could answer, Josh's voice sliced through the thick air. "We're waiting for you two. Everyone's ready."
Conrad nearly jumped. He guided the horse back, dismounted faster than humanly possible, and vanished behind a tree—no doubt to compose himself.
Ralia watched him go, her fingers resting where his hands had been. Her smile had changed. There was intrigue there now. And heat. And hesitation.
Josh, of course, had seen everything. Not just with his eyes—but through the Kingly System pulsing within him. Emotional threads hummed around his team like strings on a harp. He could feel their vibrations, sense their storms.
And beside him, Lola's heart was still galloping—faster than any horse beneath them.
He didn't say anything.
But as the reins tightened and their bodies aligned once more, he allowed the silence between them to stretch.
Lola wanted to lean back. Josh wanted her to.
But neither of them did.
Not yet.