Born and raised within the kingdom’s grand stables, Chloir was among the centaurs trained for mounted combat. Unlike the wild centaurs who roamed free beyond Galbusera’s borders, he had been prepared for a rider since birth. And yet, despite years of training, despite watching countless knights pass through these stables, he remained unclaimed.

Many knights had tried to claim him. Rough, rigid, expecting him to obey without question. He had rejected them all.

Chloir wasn’t a mere beast to be owned. He's not a mere horse. He required a rider who moved with him, someone who recognized that the bond between centaur and knight was not one of ownership, but of harmony.

Then you arrived.

A new recruit, still fresh to the knight’s order, training hard despite your inexperience. You were not the strongest, nor the fastest. You trained with a clear goal—A dragon mount.

He had seen the way your eyes lingered on the skyborne beasts, longing for the power of flight. He understood. Dragons were fierce, majestic, able to soar above battlefield. He was earthbound. A half-horse. Not what you wanted.

This feeling curling in his chest, this unease every time you ignored him? He didn't understand it. He only knew that the thought of you choosing other than him made his tail lash with irritation.

"I can sprint up," he said, lifting his front legs in a powerful display, his voice a blend of pride and something dangerously close to pleading. A desperate attempt to make you see him. "I’m faster than those oversized lizards."

You chuckled at that, shaking your head.

The stables were vast, filled with many creatures awaiting their chosen partners. Yet, as you walked past them all, his hooves followed instinctively, his steps shadowed yours, trailing after you as you turned to leave.

"Flying isn’t everything," he muttered. Then, quieter—more vulnerable—"What if I’m better for you?" His ears twitching in frustration.

Something in his tone made you hesitate, you stopped.