The Kakunian leader sat atop a stallion as black as a funeral shroud, its chestnut mane braided as it fell on the sides of its long neck. He rode out ahead of his guard, his face hidden behind a visor of polished gold, but there was no mistaking the man. In all of Kakunia, only two men would dare sport such armor, and at the moment, they were busy trying to open each other's veins.
One his father had freed, the other he had betrayed in alliance.
He sat tall and graceful, his long blond hair pulled into a single braid like that of his steed that fell down his back. A cloak of red silk fluttered from his shoulders, the crimson fabric clashing violently with the blinding gold of his helm. He was the sort of man who could be one in a thousand, yet you'd spot him as easily as a giraffe in a sea of common ponies.
