So far, it had been a pretty good start to the day. That was, Wilibald hadn’t started the day and if there was a better way for him to spend his time – he didn’t want to hear it just yet. Winter was ending and soon this already lovely land was going to be bountiful in lush grasses and clovers and probably some new and wonderful things to snack on and oh, he could lie around dreaming about it all day. And he planned to!

That was, until he was called for.

Rolling over, which was no small feat, so that he was upright instead of on his side, Wilibald looked around with sleepy, hazy eyes and there was a brief moment where he wondered whether he had just imagined the familiar voice calling for him. But no, better to make sure – at least it was Midas and not one of those angry mares he had met.

It took a couple minutes to get up, as usual, but before too long he was blundering over towards the tall bird-horse with an amiable smile. “Greetings, Midas! I hope you are doing well.” Those wings were still a little unnerving but Wilibald was willing to pretend that they weren’t there because of the favourable view he had of the black and white stallion. It had only improved, really, once he got a good look at just how… natural Midas was compared to some of the others. “You’ve got quite the family here.” That seemed to be the most polite way of phrasing it. He felt better about this place once he had some time to himself, time to get acquainted with the water and the vegetation. Still, every time someone walked by that was more colourful than any flower he had ever seen – a little bit of indigestion made his days a whole lot more complicated. The horses in this land must not have any other predators, aside from themselves – as Midas had pointed out when he first arrived - so they did not need camouflage the way every other species did.

Although he may not particularly like the way his heart jostled at the sight of these colours, the idea that there weren’t any natural predators was a rather wonderful one. As a small, rotund pony – you can see why it would be attractive.

A mare – Cashmere she must be - joins them, yet another with one of those things upon her brow. What was the purpose of a horn? Wings he could almost understand (almost) but a horn, well, would it not be distracting? Lingering in the middle of your vision all the time and potentially getting tangled in things. It would be rude to ask her why she had it, or the little sooty chestnut might have done so right then and there. But from Midas’s professional air, this was not just some random conversation – there was a purpose to calling them both there. And very soon, they found out what that was.

The way Midas was saying these words, half of which Wilibald didn’t understand, made it seem like it was supposed to be a good thing – indeed, a great honour. There was that smile on the kind stallion’s face which was the pony could not decide whether or not it was comforting or discomforting. Who was this Lord of the Earth and who was he to be handing out positions in the herd? Though the term ‘storyteller’ quite appealed to him – he could tell stories and learn histories all day – there were other parts to what had been spoken that rather sounded like hokum.

But Midas rather deserved a more polite way of phrasing it. A glance was cast to the mare, wondering if she was having as hard of a time gripping what had been said, before refocusing. His skeptical voice came out cautiously as he sought the right words, not wanting to cause offense. “I’m afraid I don’t quite follow what you mean.” To further explain, he repeated one of the points that was causing the most severe heart palpitations. “Visions of the future?” Now don’t tell me there was magic in these lands too!

Midas remained kind throughout this whole ordeal. And it was certainly an ordeal. There was a lot of rather heavy information being tossed around. “The God of the Earth?” Okay Wilibald, you have to stop repeating everything that is being said to you – but there was an awful lot of information being mentioned as though it was nothing in the world – common place even.

The pony lowered his head for a moment, breathing in deep gulps as he focused on the grass just beneath his feet. Just grass, nothing more. No magic no visions no funny stuff. But as much as he wished otherwise, he could not just watch the gentle movement of the blades and forget what was happening around him. For one, that would be incredibly rude of him. And… well actually that was the only reason why he could not just focus on the grass and pretend Midas and Cashmere were no longer in his presence.

The dappled mare sure seemed to think whatever she got – Mason, was it? – was a high honour. Was that the appropriate response? Were they being awarded a high honour? It did not feel like it. It felt like the start of a heart attack.

Another few breaths and Wilibald raised his head once again, focusing his attention on Midas. He had a feeling he was going to regret asking this question but it really did need to be brought up. “Okay so how does this work exactly?”

Wilibald trusted Midas – whether that would turn around and bite him in his sizeable behind in a couple moments, he wasn’t too sure. He was pretty sure that he did not want to go see this pool and he had no idea what he was going to say to a God to try to get them to answer him, but Midas was remaining calm. That was a good sign, right?

This pony could not outrun much, but he could outrun a pool of water easily enough if it came down to that.

“Your not tricking me with anything are you, Midas?” Rhetorical… mostly – most wouldn’t admit to being a trickster if that was their plan. But Wilibald would feel safer getting a firm ‘no’. “This is a safe position to hold in the herd?” Stubbornly ignoring the whole ‘magic’ thing that was going to result in some serious binge eating after this was all over with for the day (drown out the uncertainty with sweet sweet clover), Wilibald decided to focus on the other parts. It was basically just talking to someone else, right? He could do that. So long as whatever lived in the pool wasn’t prone to attacking the one that was trying to strike up a conversation.

Before leaving the dappled unicorn, Wilibald took a moment to bid her farewell. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Cashmere. Good day!” There, a little bit of pleasantries settled his stomach a little, and he followed Midas to the pool he mentioned without another peep.

The trip there was uneventful but Wilibald hung back once they were in sight of it. He didn’t want to get too close – just in case. He eyed the gem-lined pool like it was something feral. Without taking his eye off of the pool, wary of what might appear, he asked Midas the newest question that had popped into his mind. “So this Earth God is living in there?”

Fortune smiled on Wilibald for not the first time since he had arrived in Helovia. Not only did he count himself rather lucky to have met Midas and have been invited to live here, but he was finding himself in a rather interesting position. He had been trusted with this and maybe he should have thought before accusing Midas of playing him the fool.

It was rather fortunate that the God that Midas was describing was not so very different from what his herd had quietly revered back in his homeland mountains. Worship was not quite the word for it but they were caretakers of the earth, and though they ate more than some they were always careful to stay within the balance. The earth supported them, after all, and it was understood that they had a special reverence for it above all other things.

The chestnut pony stayed where he was, back from the edge of the pool. He battled with the anxiety that made him jump when Midas brushed a wing against the surface of the water – still expecting something to pop out – but trying to keep in mind that he could trust his friend.

A small step was taken forward – curiosity becoming a strong pull but experience warning him against it. Curiosity killed the fat pony. “What do you pray about?” And then because he was feeling thorough, he gave up one of the other questions he had. “What else does this position require of me?” Maybe he should have fully digested this part of the job first but Wilibald felt as though he might need to just hear it all. Midas had mentioned being a keeper of the history, which rather tickled the pony’s fancy. Stories were, after all, a particular favourite of his.

Taking his time, Wilibald gradually found his way right to the edge of the water - eyeing it carefully. Still not quite believing that the God of the Earth wasn’t living right in there, listening to them at the moment. His attention returns to the company at hand as Midas answered his question, telling him all the things that he prayed about. And there was quite the list. Did everyone pray that much?

“I like the sound of that.” Sniffing at the pool cautiously he responded to Midas’ words, rather taken with the idea of being a caretaker of the stories and lore. It didn’t matter if the stories were a little… stranger than he was used to - it was the strange stories that always gathered the biggest crowds. It was the strange stories that you remembered because they reminded you how wonderful life was in their peaceful little valley. Now, Wilibald was finding himself in the situation where he might actually get to witness some of those stories happen.

Well, hopefully not. But he would be here when they got back from whatever-was-happening and he would be here for them to tell him what happened.

It felt like security, felt like a reason to stick around and be kept safe. So when Midas asked him once and for all, whether he could accept the position, a little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when his brown eyes met the king’s. “Yes, Midas. It would be an honour.” He was mimicking the dappled unicorn’s words just slightly but they were still true - he was simply borrowing a phrase for a situation he did not ever intend to enter. His herd had not had ranks, it was simply acknowledge that there were elders that had seen more - and their opinions should be held above all others.