The Haruspex echoes his request, and the dark beast wonders if it's with awe. Being a warrior is prestigious, and many are not suited to the art, and cannot become successful in that rank. Thus leaving few horses as fighters and forcing their prestige and nobility to skyrocket. Horned cranium bobs upwards, as quick nod, confirming the painted stallion's remark. Henrietta glows with pride for her bonded, glad that he not only has caused no issues and that this conversation of acceptance has gone with no flaws, but also that her bonded is a warrior. Proud and strong, she wouldn't want Caleb to pursue anything else, not that he would. Fighting is in his blood, in the oxygen he inhales, in every step he takes. His muscles are hardened to perfection, sculpted by gods themselves to be admired and feared. He is a weapon, and only that. Though wise and intellectual, his is a horse that runs on basic needs such as hunger, thirst, energy levels, etc. He rarely conjures up any sort of philosophical approach to anything, but when he does it is magnificent. Becoming in touch with his feelings creates something beautiful, yet at the same time volatile, and for that reason, he has created a wall around himself, allowing everyone to see the whole, undamaged outside, holding back the broken inside. All these walls he has created, not a single one of them with a door, all his emotions locked inside for good.

The stallion announces that his job has been switched from warrior to wise one, a burden eased. Caleb chuckles softly, a sound that travels over the landscape. "Haruspexs carry the same burden warriors do, the same with spies, crafters, and medics. Without one category, the entire system would collapse." Wise ones are tasked to visit their patron and converse with them. Surely meeting with a powerful entity every week would have side effects. Would Ashamin be reduced to question what the meaning of life is soon? "You're holding the herd up just as much as the warriors are." The dark beast's point was valid. How often were the warriors truly used? There were invasions, yes, but they were seldom. Other than that, it was training, repeatedly. Yet the Haruspex, he needed to do his job regularly. There was no practice for him- it was just the actual thing. Spies, they always had to be on watch, careful of those attempting to steal a herd's possession or even member. Crafters, no doubt, had to craft... constantly. Healers had to heal everyone that got injured, never resting if someone is hurt. Did those ranks truly seem to have less of a burden than the fortify rank? "And perhaps you could still train, hone your battle skills. Then, you'd be Haruspex by day, badass warrior by night." Even Caleb couldn't deny, the thought of two herdland occupations was appealing, though he promised he'd become the best fighter first.

"Well met, Ashamin and Lochan." His eyes landed on the young fawn-like animal that slept peacefully in Ashamin's cradle. He offers the towering hybrid a place by the firelight, causing his lips to tilt upwards in a genuine smile. "Henrietta," He began, eyes cast downwards at the excited dog, Caleb clearly saying without words, her name is Henrietta. "and I, would love the warmth of the firelight. I assume this cold takes some getting used to?" He inquired, watching Ashamin turn on his heels and begin moving away from their meeting place. Caleb, with no hesitation, follows eagerly, excited to see more of this land that he now called home.

@[Ashamin]