A competition!

Africa’s gentle face ignited with enthusiasm. She was an ambitious soul who had always worked steadily forwards- even when she’d not had any true goals to aim for. The God of the Sun had looked kindly upon her spirit on two occasions already though, and positioned her according to his will alone (though she would always remember the rather unconvinced quirk in his regal, golden expression as he cast an eye over her outward appearance). The idea that candidates would need to compete to earn the highest military honour and rank was an exciting one, and sandy eyes sparkled as she nodded quickly in response. It seemed like the best possible way for the peaceable Sultana’s to find someone with skill enough to lead the army- and the quickest.

"I really like that idea." She answered, already considering which aspects of a Gladiator might be the most important. Easily being able to fight and win seemed like the obvious choice; but like any other rank or responsibility, she presumed vaguely that there would need to be a deeper understanding. "We should defiantly challenge their fighting ability," she agreed logically (obviously), not meaning any offence at all as she continued on with Sohalia’s brainwave. "...perhaps leadership skills too somehow?" Prowess, strategy, leadership... Her nose screwed up inelegantly as she turned her obvious concentration towards the wiry grass tussocks clumped by her hooves. The white mare mentioned her inexperience through a self-conscious giggle and Africa joined her, fluttering her lonely wing as she agreed, "Look how far my experience got me..."

'Practice?'

She lifted her face to glance upwards as the unexpected presence of Silas flooded her thoughts. "Oh yeah... thanks." she muttered scornfully, playfully in return, but as the surprise and immediate ridiculousness of his suggestion wore off, Africa wondered if it was such a terrible idea.

Eyes found their way back to the pretty, soft features of her sister, her friend. "I wish Midas was here..." she mumbled thoughtfully, suddenly feeling the ache of loss, the hole left by his disappearance. "Or Gaucho…" The Starry-Eyed stiffened her jaw then, mind wandering back to the rule of the Resolute who managed Dragon’s Throat (from Africa’s rose-coloured perspective), perfectly. Where was Kri now? It was still a mystery. "Err (another embarrassment), we’ve not yet made any contact with our neighbours- since the darkness. I don't know anyone who I would trust enough to help us," Africa said, returning to the present with a jolt, guilt riddling her voice and a remarkably disappointed frown betraying that feeling- it might have seemed unfortunately, like she and Ampere had achieved nothing. zilch. The dapple grey sighed deeply. The Throat was so vulnerable, and Africa felt the sting of her apparent oblivion.

That was all changing now.

"Anyway, a competition is a fine idea. After the meeting (or before), we can send scouts out to investigate the herds and who heads them now. I do know after a most convenient conversation in the meadow, that Deimos and Illynx rule the Basin, and that they have a machine guarding the mountain passage to their home. It lets only their horned kind through..." Hooves shuffled beneath groaning knees as she tried to turn the discussion to something fresher- the army, war... it was just so draining. "I’m not sure the old proud, fierce reputation suits our home now, you know. I don’t really like war, violence. It would be nice to be known for something grander, different." Strength was important, but there was no reason for them to try in vain to uphold reputations of the past. They were a new era, and Africa didn’t want the burden of filling shoes far bigger than her own, meagre, ones.