- Vol. 09
- Chapter 02
Everyone knows of the Knight in the Copper Lake. Sir Frederick the Fragrant, known for his lack of natural body odours as well as the plethora of scents he would work through during an evening banquet, each as artificial as his mysterious smile and flirtatious ways. The story of how said Knight once found himself without his aromatic condiments during a hunt is common knowledge. That he then instantly decided to wash in the nearby waterfall as to avoid smelling, God forbid, of SWEAT, is an accepted truth. After all, his body is still there; a shimmering now-green statue toppled over on the lake floor, caught mid-wash when the curse got hold of him.
No one ever talks about his horse.
Lord Snortington had been a most noble creature when he was alive. Grand and muscular, with a coat as silvery as the face of the moon, he had carried his master through many a tournament and saved many a maiden from dragons. His gait was airy, his prancing glorious, his neigh supreme; there was no one as beautiful as he.
Where he had been silver, she was gold; as golden as a field of wheat just before harvest, with mane and tail the colour of rich cream. And he had loved her from the first moment he saw her.
They had been born on the same day, he was told, but born in different flocks, to different breeders. This, and the massive fence that separated their pastures, should have been enough to discourage the instant affection they felt when they saw each other. But love was never known to be wise. They found ways to play together, through the fence.
They would stand next to the fence, pressing at it while sniffing at whatever they could reach of each other. They knew that they would eventually part ways, and that the now was all they had.
They got one year before they parted ways. She was sold to some noblewoman for leisure riding; he went to further war- and tournament training at the finest establishment the modern world could offer before he was sold off to serve the vainest Knight in all the Kingdom.
They never met again.
Many years went by, each new one similar to the last, until that last hunt. When the magic water petrified his master he remained, unsure of what to do. He turned, prepared to walk away, when something in the corner of his eye made him stop.
Just where the waterfall met the lake.
A golden shimmer, full of memories. Memories of another time.
Lord Snortington was anything but stupid. He would not step down in the water, like his master had. He would only sniff above the surface of the gold. He ignored the hope for a miracle, brusquely pushed aside the illogical wish that it would somehow bring him closer to his once-lost love.
He opened his eyes just as the droplets hit his face.