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Meleager nodded his thanks to the young stallion he'd been sparring with, and walked down to one of the many streams that flowed through this area. He'd needed that. Even if there was no chance of any serious action, training was necessary - not just to keep fit and ready, but probably for his own sanity. The dapple-grey stallion was not naturally inactive. But right now, he was satisfyingly tired from the mock battle, and ready for a rest.

The Reya stretched briefly and lowered his head to take a drink from the stream. The cool water was refreshing in the warm afternoon. That youngster had seemed promising, the he mused as he drank, although he wasn’t sure where the horned crossbreed would fit best. Still, it was enough that he would make an excellent soldier at some point in the future – Meleager made a mental note to mention him to somebody who could keep an eye on his progress.

Thirst quenched, the stallion turned to walk back up the small hill. He would watch the training for a while, he decided, and perhaps join in again.

Hmm. Company. Meleager paused for a moment, considering the silhouetted figure of the new Master Tactician. Castor wasn't someone he knew well, personally - they'd only spoken on business matters. Clearly, the crossbreed was very good at his job, despite the unfortunate combination of characteristics he'd inherited. Meleager supposed he was suited to his occupation. He'd have plenty of chance to prove himself, in any case. The dapple-grey was expecting a lot of his new Master Tactician.

And now was a good a chance as any to get to know him. They would most likely be spending a lot of time together. The grey stallion headed up the hill again, stopping a short distance from the pale blue stallion. He glanced briefly at the sparring soldiers, picking out the crossbreed stallion he'd fought earlier. Now the tactician was here, he would have to mention the youngster to him. The company was unexpected, perhaps, but not entirely unwelcome.

Meleager looked across at his companion on the hill. "Master Tactician Castor," he greeted him with a brief smile. "Looking for talent?"

The grey stallion hadn't realised that Castor had been there that long. But then he rarely noticed much while he was sparring. He smiled back. "I need to be. But thank you, all the same. It's good to know I'm not losing my touch." The thought of that made him shiver slightly - not noticeably. To lose his abilities in battle would most likely be to lose his position as leader, and Meleager hated the idea of being deposed. An honourable death in combat, or dying as Helen had from injuries sustained whilst protecting the herd, or like Phaedra, from old age - those he would be content with. But not to lose his power.

The grey stallion pushed such thought to the back of his mind, and shook himself back to the moment. A pause, and then he remembered the conversation. "Have you seen anyone to catch your eye? What did you think of that young stallion I was sparring with? ...I thought he showed promise." Meleager glanced at the tactician, hoping for agreement, but also, and more importantly, hoping for honesty. A Master Tactician who always agreed with him would be of no use at all.

"Mhhm," Meleager agreed vaguely, nodding. "Complacency is not a good thing." ...This really wasn't the best time to try Castor's willingness to perhaps change these peaceful times. It was too soon. Far too soon. He'd been Master Tactician all of what, two days? Meleager flicked his tails irritably, restraining himself. No, this really wasn't a good time. As much as he might want more action around here, he doubted the blue stallion would agree. Maybe he would think about it, let the younger stallion settle into his position first.

Meleager felt suddenly old, realising that he had just thought of both Castor and the stallion he'd sparred with as young. They were, true, younger than he was, but he was in his prime, and certainly not old. True, it seemed a long time since he'd been a colt, but it had not been a time he'd particularly enjoyed in any case. He much preferred being an adult, with actual power and influence.

That was another problem with peace. It made the time pass so slowly. Every day the same. Meleager shifted position restlessly. He needed something to occupy himself. And soon.

He sighed and looked over at the Master Tactician again. "Do you think these 'peaceful times' will last?" he asked. Best to get an idea, he told himself. Just see what he thinks...

...Hmm. The herdleader found Castor's answer annoyingly non-committal. He turned away briefly, looking out into the distance, and found that as he suppressed his irritation it turned to vague amusement. An answer perfectly suited to the blue stallion's occupation... and, truly, he had only answered the question Meleager had asked. The dapple-grey stallion supposed he couldn't find fault with that.

He turned back to his companion, smiling. "A good answer. ...Yes. In the end, peace is always disturbed, and the warriors will be needed. ...But not just them. The skills of the whole herd. And that includes Nequus like you. " He dipped his head thoughtfully. "I think you'll be good at your job. Not that I know anything about it, of course - but you wouldn't have been chosen if you weren't talented."

The dapple-grey stallion's attention was caught by a battle cry from below, and he looked down to see the stallion he'd sparred with taking on another challenger. And, beside him, a pair of Ichsa who looked both notably more experienced. Meleager watched them for a few moments, judging their skill. Perhaps he would challenge one of them later.

He glanced back at Castor. "I hope you'll get a chance to prove that talent, sometime soon," the grey stallion added.

Meleager could appreciate the seriousness in the crossbreed stallion's eyes. Good, he was sincere. And he hadn't taken the bait of 'soon'... which was probably a good thing, all things considered. He had indeed made a good impression. Meleager could see himself liking the tactician, as much as any leader could like an advisor - there were always going to be disagreements. But he had liked Phaedra, most of the time, and as much as he might mourn her death, her successor seemed more than suitable.

"Good," the Reya stallion replied at last, "because the herd needs its tacticians as much as its warriors. I take it you understand the responsibility of your position... but still. As you said, complacency is to be feared. Don't let it happen to you."

He was almost sure that the blue stallion didn't need the warning, but there was no harm in giving it to him anyway. Most likely he had already been given it by some of the other council members he'd met since his promotion, along with various other warnings and advice. Meleager didn't think he had much to add - who could advise a tactician? The only advice he stuck by - tried to - was to listen to those who knew better than him in their own areas of expertise, and try to avoid making snap decisions. He doubted Castor was prey to the same failings he was. No, the trick was just to do your own job. The intelligent blue stallion had probably caught onto that a lot quicker than Meleager himself had.

Meleager smiled back, pleased with the Master Tactician's response to that. He wanted the younger stallion to succeed in his post, he realised, although he wasn't quite sure when he had decided that - at least because it would cause an awful lot of fuss to have to elect a replacement so soon. But there was no reason to think that he would not be entirely successful. So. The grey stallion was satisfied.

He noted Castor's comment about the captains and nodded. Of course... "Yes, good idea," he replied, wondering if there was anything he should mention about them. "They're very good at what they do, of course - very much warriors, all of them... for the most part you shouldn't have any trouble, although I suppose it's possible they might comment on your lack of experience - but they'll get used to you." The Reya stallion shrugged, with a brief smile at the tactician.

...Ah. Yes. "Oh, and the Omega Captain - Hades - I think you'll like him, or at least approve of his methods. He's organised, a logical sort." Perhaps 'calculating' might be more appropriate there, Meleager thought, but didn't amend his words. "Of course, many of the herd fear him, but he's a Nequus like us all." Or maybe it was just being in command that made him see the smaller Reya in a different light from many. He wasn't sure; but in any case, while he had great respect for the captain's abilities, he certainly didn't fear him.

"Hmm." Meleager shifted restlessly and looked sidelong at the tactician. Best to try to be diplomatic, he supposed. "Peace is all well and good," he replied, "for a time. ...But it's in the Hellene spirit to want to fight. And I for one have had enough of peace, of lying in the sun all day and watching my herd grow slow and idle. Even these soldiers," he nodded at the sparring Nequus below them, "they might be practicing, but it's not the same."

He could feel the fire, the familiar desire for battle, rising in his veins, and he began to pace, still talking. "I should know as well as anyone - sparring is not like real battle. To be honest, I miss it." The grey herdleader halted suddenly, looking out into the distance. It was a moment before he continued, wheeling round to face the dark-maned stallion again. That fire and the remnants of old anger glinted in his eyes, but he seemed in control. "...No, peace is alright in its place, in its time. But battle is in our blood, and it's unnatural to be at peace for too long. Besides, " he added, his gaze flicking back to the soldiers, "we mustn't let ourselves get used to it."

They may be great warriors, the dapple grey stallion thought as he watched an Ichsa charge down an opponent, but how long can they remain the best without real enemies to fight? How long before we forget our ways? ...Never, he thought. I will never forget what it is to be a warrior, and those who are worthy of being Hellene soldiers, of bearing one of the six marks, they will never forget that either.

The thought did little to quench the restlessness in his heart as he glanced back at the tactician.