It was becoming clear that the Inlet was growing too small for the three of them: Warsaw, Ironclad and himself. Three adult stallions, two seemingly young and eager, all with a need of something to do. Letavice watched from afar as their father groomed his twin brother. Ironclad was always the confident one. He had no fear. From a young age, he seemed smitten with the opposite sex too. And at their young, but ripe age, he'd already collected a few mares of his own and even embarked on trades with some of the family's allies. It was impressive. Even Letavice could see that.

The stark white stallion wasn't jealous of his brother. He was happy for him, to see him succeed in the way their father always wanted. In some ways, Letavice preferred this - Ironclad took up all the attention, which left Letavice mostly to his own devices. He could feel the subtle pressure his dam and his sire tried to throw his way - it was time for him to be adult and to accept some responsibility. But the idea of becoming a king and setting rules and fighting over mares seemed, well, like a waste of time to Letavice. Vita Nova tried to express to her son that one day, he would think otherwise, and it could be too late. Few horses were born royalty, and afforded the opportunity that lay his hooves. He should be grateful for it, and to accept it willingly. Life for others without such privilege was certainly harder and in most cases, darker. Vita Nova certainly didn't want that for her sons.

Then there was Lace, the pretty spotted mare he'd met on the Commons. She was all he could think about lately, and briefly Letavice wondered if this was the type of sensation that Ironclad was so keen on seeking out. But he only wanted to feel this way about Lace, not other mares. She was enough, he thought. But there was so much more he just didn't know.

The young stallion was grazing near the shoreline when he heard his father's call. A chill ran down the length of his spine as he lifted his head from the grass at his hooves and searched the landscape. He breathed a heavy sigh before picking up a lofty trot and heading off the in direction of the call. He slowed only once he saw his sire leaning against a tree in the distance. Letavice fired off a whinny to him, tossing his head wildly as he walked up. "You rang, dad?"