Deeper in the Buried Kingdom than she had ever been, Condor raised her head at the distant sound of metal striking metal. The sound is not dissimilar to that of a forge, which the Regency’s finest blacksmiths used to craft armor and weaponry. Before she was a member of the royal guard, Condor had been a lancer: those at the frontlines who bore the heavy steel horn upon their helms. It was used to pierce enemy defenses, carving a vital path to victory… but at high risk of mortality. 

There was a loud clatter from behind dusty, long-forgotten shelves of various helms and spears-- the mare froze, ears swiveling as she scanned for signs of movement. The relative quiet of the overgrown caverns above was both nerve-wracking and assuring; she could clearly pinpoint the noises she heard, unlike the difficulty of competing with the roar of the forge.

“State your name and business!” Condor’s husky voice boomed through the halls. There was no response. After a few moments of watching and waiting, she moved onward… but there was a heavy feeling of suspicion that hung in the air.

The atmosphere was hot and humid, and Condor could feel the sweat soaking through her silky coat. It was in this moment that she recalled her final battle bearing the lancer’s burden:

Across the amber sands she and her platoon charged, ready to meet the hooves and teeth of their smaller, less-fortunate neighboring state. They had refused to bend the knee, and for that they would know deep regret. 

The moment they’d clashed, the heat of the desert had suddenly disappeared. Adrenaline drowned every sensation, and she was acting on instinct. The steel of her horn met the flesh of the enemy, driving deep into the muscle and drawing forth a squeal from the receiving end. A stallion came charging from behind the freshly-felled soldier, challenging her by rearing up to his full height. Condor had taken this opening gratefully, stabbing her weapon deep into his guts. 

On the battlefield, she was unyielding. 

Here, though, she felt naked. Vulnerable. She had no armor, and there was no order. She was alone.

Condor continued on through a passageway full of dust and bones-- human, and otherwise. There was death piled around every corner, and the search for her regent’s crowning jewel would be more arduous than she could have imagined.