An easy smile crossed Zevulun’s mouth as Rilke implied they could seek a potential friendship together and he nodded agreeably, just as hopeful. A little prickling in his mind reminded him of the warning Riesling had given him once about his quickness to blindly trust what others said, but he chose to brush it aside in this instance. He was certain he was right about his assumptions regarding Rilke. “I would like that very much,” he admitted. The islands around them were stirring to life, new trouble washing up to settle on their shores and turn covetous eyes toward the Luthien, toward the Prairie. The more of his neighbors he could trust, the better.
His mind pulled from the worries of what was yet-to-be to instead focus on the present as Rilke asked a few of the questions he seemed to have been wanting to know. It only encouraged Zevulun’s good opinion of the new Forest lead, giving him an easy smile as he bobbed his head and began to talk. Questions meant Rilke was interested, and questions about the politics on the islands outside of Luthien meant he was knowledgeable about the different aspects of what leading a territory was. Zevulun had learned the hard way, but it seemed the Forest would get an easy transition after Persephone’s absence in a leader who already understood how to.
“Persephone led here for many years. I believe she took the Forest around the time I was a yearling and, well,” his grin stretched a little more, “it’s been a long time since I was that little.” Humor brightened his blue eyes. “She led the Forest, Luthien, through a war waged by a group of stallions who took issue with mares leading their own territories.” Zevulun said this a little more carefully. Even though he’d been born into a world where his sister was queen and he was her serving queensguard, he had learned while growing up that most stallions weren’t raised in such a way. Most learned of mares taking leadership for the very first time when they washed ashore here.
“She was a good leader.” He said quietly. “But there was something personal, something beyond here that she needed to take care of. A matter of the heart.” Zevulun remembered when she’d come to him in the Prairie and told him she’d be leaving the islands. “I don’t believe she ever intends to come back, but if she does I’m sure it would be the Forest she would come to, though I couldn’t see her causing any trouble for you if she did. She was always the respectful sort.” The kind of leader who, even though there’d never been an official one named and she likely would’ve rejected it, Zevulun wholeheartedly considered the monarch of Luthien while she’d lived here.
“As for the island politics,” he blew out a breath as if indicating: Where do I begin? “They’re ever-changing, but it seems leaders are settling into their borders and carving names for themselves. It’s been quiet among this chain of islands for a long time, but recently I’ve had challengers washing ashore and coming after my family. Fell, a stallion in the Bay, is definitely one to watch out for.” His voice lowered. Tight. The worst Fell had truly ever done was try to take Riesling and, when he’d been unsuccessful, he hadn’t come back. But that had been enough. That, and what Rafe had to say of the coal-black curved-eared stallion of Zevulun’s birth home. “Salem has a few very bold leaders who don’t seem to hesitate in trying to recruit through more forceful means. Rafe in the Badlands can be… grating,” at this, Zevulun did grin a little bit, “But he’s at least civil, he sticks to his word, and you’re more likely to strike a deal or peace with him than you’d ever find with Fell.” That was kind enough to say about Rafe, wasn’t it? Zevulun wasn’t going to lie about him, even if they’d reached a somewhat strange peace with Riesling choosing to continue to live with him in the Prairie rather than leave to live with her brother.
He thought about Atlantis and frowned somewhat. “I don’t know much about what’s going on over on Atlantis, or at least their reach hasn’t extended here.” His either. Zevulun knew he should have gone on more diplomatic visits rather than fun excursions to the paradise-island with the pretty ladies he had heart’s in his eyes for.
“There’s a king on Tinuvel who lives in the Cove by the name of Solomon. He’s…” Zevulun was lucky he hadn’t pummeled him into the cold, dark sands for what he’d done, “He’s fair, and I think he’s trustworthy.”
He took a brief moment to let Rilke sort all of the information out, knowing it was a lot to take in at once. His weight shifted before he added, “We’ve been lucky trouble hasn’t seemed to settle here on Luthien, but leadership has been changing a lot. I’ve been hoping to keep this island united in peace… I think it would be a lot easier to stand strong against whatever storm is brewing out there among the other islands.” His tone was somewhat thoughtful, wondering if Rilke would agree with him.
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