Trotting forward on light feet, Illene perused the dungeon as if it belonged to her to investigate. It did, after all, in a way. Though she was not born here, it did not mean that she did not belong here. Her family had trod these halls since before she was born. Had delved their depths. Illene was not the first, and she would certainly not be the last, but she would be the most important.

Her name would soon overwrite her mother's, as her mother's had done her father's. It was how it should be… Illene would not let her family's legacy down…

A tinkling sound rung prettily behind her, and Illene turned her great head towards the sound, tail swishing in tandem behind her. That tail always gave her away. Perhaps she should braid the end, put some weight down upon it, so it could not so easily give hint to her emotional state. That would not do…

Of all things to chime so sweetly, it was an old, rusted chanfron scuttling along the floor, pushing a pile of discarded material out of its way as it moved, that had made the sound.

"Frankly rather ugly, isn't it, Marshal?" Illene said to the old hound at her feet.

He woofed dully, a gruff warning sound that was more a complaint than anything truly intimidating. The way his teeth no longer filled his mouth meant he'd lost that kind of intimidation a long time ago. But he had been a faithful companion to her since birth. Guarded her gilded stall when she was but a foal, had followed along at her side ever since. Her father had advised her to leave him behind but perhaps Illene was a little sentimental about him.

Considering how it was moving, something must be holed up inside. Illene had little fear for the dangers of the dungeon. Or at least, a confidence that she would be able to persevere past anything that she came across that overrode the brief flash of fear that burned hot under her hide.

As the chanfron came closer, scuttling toward her, she turned, kicking out with a back hoof, sending the ugly armour clanging across the cobblestone. Flinging up and out, was an over-large, similarly ugly crustacean, limbs flailing in the air as it tumbled end over end.

In slow-motion, Illene cocked her head to watch as it bounced along the floor after the chanfron it had taken for its home. "At least it was quieter," she hummed to herself. "Go on, Marshal. You're released." With the command spoken, the deerhound took off… maybe a little slow.

With a sigh, Illene turned to continue the way she had intended. Marshal would catch up when he was done.