Arthur stood up, brushing the grass off his pants. "Alright. Time to train."
Veltron, as if on cue, let out a soft whinny and stomped a hoof, eager. Arthur took the reins and led him a few steps farther into the open field, tightening the saddle straps and adjusting the stirrups. He mounted smoothly and began riding in slow circles, then moved into figure eights, working on turns and halts. Veltron responded better with each command—steadier, more in sync. The others looked on in amazement, seeing Veltron working with Arthur.
"Good boy," Arthur murmured, patting his neck. "Looks like we are finally getting it."
After a while, Arthur slowed him to a stop, dismounted, and stretched his shoulders. He turned to the others.
"Wanna ride?"
Nyelle hesitated half-shy, half-curious. "I… I've never actually ridden before. Could you teach me?"
Arthur nodded. "Sure. I'm no expert myself but he's calm today, so it's a good time."He walked over to her, guided her hand to the grip. "Hold here—firm, but don't tense your arms. And now swing your leg across like this."With his steadying hand at her back, Nyelle climbed into the saddle.
Veltron shifted but didn't resist. Arthur whispered, "Go easy," to him under his breath.To everyone's surprise, the horse responded gently, walking in elegant strides as Nyelle guided him forward with light tugs, and they rode elegantly in controlled pace.
"Oh wow…" she said, a wide grin spreading across her face. "He's… smooth!"
Arthur smiled, arms folded. "Looks like all that training paid off. He learns fast."
Toren, arms crossed, squinted at the pair. "Doesn't look too hard."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You wanna give it a shot?"
Toren puffed up with mock confidence. "Step aside. Let the natural take over."
After fumbling a few times, Toren finally managed to swing his leg over—barely. The moment Veltron felt the unfamiliar clumsy weight, he gave a small jolt forward.
Toren yelped, flailed, and—before he could even correct his posture—tumbled right off the side and landed flat in the grass with a loud thud.
Arthur snorted.
Nyelle tried not to laugh but failed. "You okay?"
Toren groaned dramatically, staring at the sky. "I'm fine. Just... communing with the earth."
Arthur walked over, helped him up.
Toren muttered, brushing dirt off his sleeves.
Veltron snorted behind them again—this time, it sounded suspiciously like amusement.
Arthur looked up at Veltron, who stood nearby, ears perked and eyes sharp.
Arthur smirked. "Shall we finish this with an all-out?"
Veltron gave an eager snort, stomping a hoof as if he'd been waiting for that all day.
Arthur hopped into the saddle in one smooth motion, gripping the reins. The moment he settled, Veltron jolted forward with a burst of speed, tearing across the open field like lightning.
"Let's gooo!" Arthur shouted, his voice carried by the wind.
Veltron responded instantly—faster, sharper. The hooves thudded against the earth like rolling thunder, the breeze blasting through Arthur's hair as they flew across the field. He leaned forward, balanced now with ease, guiding Veltron into a sharp turns. The first one was wide and shaky, but from next—tight, clean, perfect. Arthur thought the training before paid off.
They curved around in a wide arc, Arthur's grin stretching cheek to cheek.
"Come on, we gotta air them out!"
Veltron seemed to understand, breaking into his fastest gallop yet.
Nyelle and Toren were frozen in place. Dust kicked up in waves as Arthur and Veltron streaked past them, grass flattened in their wake.
Toren gawked. "I've only heard stories about Veltron speeds… but they're flying! That's not a horse, that's a black comet!"
Nyelle didn't speak—her eyes wide, lips slightly parted. In her mind, a single thought echoed: He's so cool…
The streak of horse and rider looped far off before finally slowing, Arthur gently tugging the reins. Veltron halted with practiced grace and turned, trotting back toward them.
Arthur's hair was wind-tossed, and there was a wild gleam in his eyes. He gave them a cheeky smile as he passed.
"Training's successful."
As the three of them walking on a patch of grass near the river. Veltron grazed lazily nearby catching his breath, flicking his tail.
Toren turned to Nyelle. "So… you're going to be a student at the academy too?"
Nyelle smiled, "Yeah. I've wanted to join for years now."
Toren nodded thoughtfully. "I'm worried though," he admitted. "I heard out of ten selected candidates only, only two or three commoners are there." Toren clenched a fist , "Just because nobles have 'pure' bloodlines and have better resources that doesn't mean commoners cant outshine them."
There was a sharpness in his voice now, a flicker of old frustration. Arthur noticed it. Toren seems like he had bad history with nobles.
Toren clenched a fist around a blade of grass. "Just because nobles have 'pure' bloodlines doesn't mean commoners can't outshine them."
Arthur gave a slow nod. "You're not wrong. The hierarchy's real. Even inside the academy, it'll follow us. But the exams..." He looked out at the horizon. "Those aren't rigged. They're held in public, with hundreds watching. You'll be judged for your performance and abilities."
Nyelle tilted her head. "What kind of exams could it be?"
Arthur shrugged. "They change every year. Could be a physical test. Or a test of wit. Sometimes written exams too… or all three. There's no set format
Nyelle and Toren shared a look—half worry.
Arthur, "Worrying won't solve anything. We still have time before the light fades."
"Let's train.
And with that, they got to it.
For the next three hours, the open field echoed with the sounds of running feet, soft grunts, heavy breaths, and the occasional sarcastic remark from Toren. Arthur led the pace from the start—sprinting across the field, leaping over natural dips and rocks, his shirt gradually soaked through with sweat. His movements were clean and sharp, like someone who had been pushing himself for years.
Nyelle kept close behind, focused and determined. Though she lacked Arthur's precision, she mimicked his forms with surprising speed, fists tight, jaw clenched in effort. Her royal robes were soon folded up and tied at her waist, revealing more practical clothes underneath. She was gasping for air but didn't ask for a break. She was used to study and routine—but not this kind of raw, physical grind. Still, she didn't complain. Not once. Arthur asked her not to participate, but she didn't listen.
Toren… was another story entirely.
About twenty minutes in, he was on his knees.
"Guys…" he wheezed, face red, "I… might be dying. Just saying."
Arthur didn't even glance at him. "If you're dying, die while jogging."
Toren threw a dramatic hand over his chest. "So cold."
Toren groaned but dragged himself up. His form was clumsy, his kicks awkward, and he tripped twice just trying to copy a spin that Arthur did effortlessly—but he was there. Even if he cursed the whole way through.
They rotated drills—running, exercising, basic defensive stances, and a few light sparring moves Arthur remembered from his junior division days. Every time Nyelle and Toren stumbled or made a mistake, Arthur corrected them without speaking—simply showing them once, and letting them catch on.
By the end of the three hours, the sun had dipped low in the sky, throwing long golden shadows over the grass. Their clothes were soaked, dirt clung to their arms, and their hair was wild from the wind and effort.
Arthur stood, barely winded, while Nyelle hands on her kneel, panting with a satisfied smile, Toren, collapsed to the ground laying flat on his back heavily breathing, "I'm dead, just bury me here".
Arthur smirked faintly and tossed him a flask of water.
Veltron, who had been calmly grazing nearby, let out a short whinny, as if to remind them that even he was part of the training earlier. Arthur walked over to pat his side.
The light was fading fast now.
Arthur turned to look at the horizon, the last streaks of orange melting into deepening blue.
"We should start moving" he said simply. "to the capital"