Wrath of Arthur: The Cursed Bloodline

Arthur led the weak, lean horse slowly through the outer gates of Cravendorn. With the last of the coins he had from selling the golden shell of his locket, he picked up some travel food, a cloth wrap, and a small pouch of medicine.

The horse limped beside him, its back leg still trembling from the strain. As they crossed into the open lands beyond the city, Arthur found a gentle field where the grass was soft and the wind quiet. A small river snaked through the middle, its clear waters reflecting the afternoon light.

He crouched by the water, letting the horse drink as he gently applied medicine to the wounded leg. The horse didn't flinch much—tired, but trusting.

Arthur sat back on the grass, removing his shoes to rest his blistered feet. He looked up at the sky, clouds slowly drifting by, and took a deep breath.

Eight days left… he thought.

Eight days until the senior division at Valoria's academy began.

That night, Arthur sat near the campfire, feeding the horse pieces of dried fruit, warm bread and grass. At first hesitant, the horse slowly began to nibble, and soon enough, nudged Arthur's hand for more. 

"You're not so wild now, huh?".

By the time they both drifted into sleep beside the flickering flames, the horse began to trust him completely.

The next morning, Arthur and the horse continued on foot. With a gallop in hand, Arthur walked beside him. The horse still limped, but its steps were firmer now, the swelling down by half. Two more days of slow travel passed, and they finally reached Elgen's Rest.

Arthur spotted the familiar face of Mr. Boro horse carriage rider near the carriage yard. He waved him down.

"Mr. Boro!" Arthur called.

The man turned—and his jaw dropped as he saw the horse.

After a stunned pause, Boro blinked and said, "Is that… is that what I think it is? That's a Voltren breed, boy! Do you know what you're walking next to?"

Arthur raised a brow. "Voltren?"

Boro nodded, stepping closer and inspecting the creature. "Voltren horses are incredibly rare. They're wild, hard to tame. Most won't let a human come near them—let alone follow one. Strong, fast, battle-born when fully grown. But this one… looks lean and weak" He squinted. "Looks like someone tried to break its spirit."

Arthur nodded grimly and pointed to the horse's injured leg.

Boro leaned down to inspect. "That's bad. Bruised deeply. Someone's beat this poor thing with a sheathed sword… probably trying to make it submit. Idiots."

Arthur's hands clenched his teeth at the memory of the fat nobleman.

"But," Boro stood back up and smiled gently, "he trusts you. That's a good start. Most Voltren would've bucked you across a field by now."

Arthur looked at the horse, who stood quietly beside him.

"I was hoping you could help. With the leg, I mean."

Boro nodded firmly. "Of course. After what you and that young woman did for me a few days back, this is the least I can do."

He patted the horse gently and added, "I'll need to work slowly. But he needs you around while I do it. He won't trust me right away."

Arthur nodded. "Then I'll stay with him."

Boro smiled. He said to horse, "You picked the right human."

Arthur spent next four days at Mr. Boro's horse farm. Each day, Boro carefully applied herbal medicine to the horse's injured leg and bound it with wooden sticks for support. Arthur stayed close, feeding the horse and walking beside him, helping the leg recover movement little by little.

On the third day, Boro asked, "Should I get the riding gear ready while he heals up?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. I'm not planning to keep him. He's had enough trouble from humans. You said these Voltren breeds are wild—meant to run free. I'm going to let him go once he's better."

Boro simply smiled and gave a small nod, saying nothing more.

By the fourth day, the swelling had vanished. Boro carefully removed the bindings, and the horse kicked the air lightly, then began to trot—then run—across the fenced field, snorting and jumping with ease.

"He's stronger now. Healthier too," Arthur said, watching the horse with a faint smile. "Thank you, Mr. Boro."

Boro chuckled. "Pleasure's all mine. It's not every day you get to treat a Voltren. And you've been feeding him a lot. Just look at him—his ribs aren't poking out anymore. With time, he'll grow into a real beast."

Arthur nodded and walked over to the horse. He reached for the gallop rope, untied it, and gently stroked the horse's mane.

"You're free now," Arthur said softly. "All healed up. Go on—run."

He turned the horse toward the open field beyond the fences.

But instead of bolting, the horse looked at the field, then back at Arthur. It stepped forward—and then bent its neck, pressing its head lightly against Arthur's chest.

Arthur froze. "...What?"

From behind, Boro laughed and stepped out from the barn. "I knew it."

He jogged over with a bundle in his arms and handed it to Arthur—a saddle and riding gear.

"The Voltren is yours now," Boro said, grinning. "That gesture—it's surrender. Full trust. He chose you."

Arthur blinked in disbelief. "Isn't it better for him to stay in the wild?"

"Normally? Yes. But when a Voltren picks its master willingly…" Boro looked at the horse, then back at Arthur. "...he won't leave you. No matter what you try."

The horse let out a proud, playful whine, stomping one of his now-healed hooves on the dirt.

Later Arthur fitted the saddle and gear onto the Voltren, tightening the straps as the horse stood calmly, occasionally nudging him like it was trying to say, "Hurry up."

Arthur raised a brow. "What? You want me to ride you?"

The horse gave a short whine and nodded its head toward its back.

Arthur , "I don't know how to ride."

Boro chuckled. "Then today's a good day to learn. Trust him—he trusts you."

Arthur sighed, then climbed up slowly. "Alright… here goes nothing."

The very moment he got seated, the horse bolted.

"W-WHOA!" Arthur yelped as he flew halfway off, holding onto the reins for dear life. His body flailed like a flag for a second before he pulled himself back into position, now leaning forward. His hair whipped wildly in the wind, one eye closed, the other squinting against the speed.

"OHHOHOHO!!" Arthur shouted with a grin as the Voltren galloped faster, picking up pace like it was born for it.

They rode across the village outskirts, circling the fields in a blur. Arthur laughed as he leaned and slowly syncing with the rhythm. Villagers peeked out of their homes, watching them ride with speed like lightning.

When they came back around to Boro's house, Arthur panicked slightly—he had no idea how to stop.

"Alright… slow down! Whoa! Stop—!"

He yanked the reins back with both hands.

The horse skidded to an abrupt halt—and Arthur flew forward like a doll, landing face-first in a pile of hay with a loud thud.

Boro burst into laughter. "Not bad for a first ride!"

Time passed, the sky turned orange as the sun dipped low. Arthur packed his bag, tightened the straps, and adjusted the saddle one more time.

Boro approached. "Not riding him back?"

Arthur smiled, patting the horse's neck. "As fun as that would be, I think it's better he gets more time to recover properly to the core. And besides, I've still got two days to reach Valoria. We'll walk the rest."

Boro nodded, giving the horse one last rub between the ears. "Safe travels, both of you. And Arthur you are always welcome here..."

Arthur turned.

Arthur gave a respectful nod.

With that, he and the Voltren turned toward the path. The horse walked beside him, step for step, as they entered the darkening forest trail once again—this time, together.