Thank you. Ah, here it is!

Orsmaster Jace threw an old wooden crate full of odd scraps of leather and metal to the side,

revealing a heavy wooden footlocker bound in tarnished

brass bands. Carved into the top was the emblem of the Talon Empire, a regal bird of prey

with its talons clasping the world, and its wings stretched from sea to sea. Though the Empire

hadn't held lands past the peninsula since before even the horsemaster was born, the imagery could still

be seen blazoned across buildings and banners from Hawks Ridge to Hookbill. The trunk looked as

ancient as Jace, with knots and scars to match the lines and divvets in the old man himself,

yet it was sturdy, reliable, and useful still.

"'Eavened to break into this old trunk since I started at the stables,

but I knew there'd be a day for it.' With a dusty creek the lid opened,

wrinkled hands reached inside and removed a long bundle of cloth tied with a simple leather band.

Jace turned to face Tim,

looking up at the lad and then quickly down at the bundle.

Tim saw some moisture swelling in the soft brown eyes.

Horsemaster, I really can't accept it.

Shut your whole, lad.

You'll take it and you'll like it.

And no more this horsemaster slop,

you're not in her accidently service no more.

"'I'm just chase now, if in your place.'

"'Horsemas, Jace,' was right about that.

...