With Esme taking a few days to settle court proceedings, Valdr would take some time to patrol their southern borders. This adventure had seen him visit with various other kings and tribal leaders, leading him to at least find a way to put faces to names.
He had been trailing whispers for a day now, along the foothills of the Spine. It was a treacherous area, a natural border against the plague of the Blightlands and dotted with hidden crossings that a cunning warlord could use to bring an army across.
Silver armor gleamed in the sunlight, the golden trim giving his silhouette a radiance that belied his person, enhanced further still by the golden eyes that pierced the visor of his winged helm. His war horse snorted and huffed beneath him as they trot along, weary of all manner of threats.
Every few hundred yards there would be an incline leading up into the mountains and at each one, Valdr would stop and listen for any sign of attack. Every thunderous stamp, every hitched breeze. At one such path, he paused, his war horse's ears perked briefly and that caused the visor to scan the path. "Easy.." he mused gently as he tugged on the reins, bringing his mount to a stop.
One gauntlet would start to wrap the reins about the other and with a slight guiding nudge and a gentle shift of his heel, his war horse would begin to work its way up the trail. Had he a sprinter, he would never made the trek, but Toron was of good stock and even better trained. This was nothing.
Valdr's visor would scan their surroundings, drawn ever forward by some melodic summoning.