The Most Exotic of Tastes

*You see that this manuscript has the stamp of "The Totally True Tale Society." They are a respected association that is dedicated to uncovering the truth, so you know that this manuscript must be accurate.*

In medias res! The young soldier stumbled away from the carriages, his legs trembling violently and threatening to give out at any moment. After bumbling forward for a bit, he felt his foot wrench beneath him, followed by a dizzying impact. Even while catching his bearings, his limbs instinctively clawed at the dirt road, pulling him into the leafy cover of the forest. He collapsed to the ground and took a moment to breath. Slipping between the noise of his raspy breaths and pounding heartbeat, faint screams reached his ears.

Quivering, the man dared to raise his head above the bushes to peek back at the road. Before him, a group of monkeys surrounded a well noble dressed in a fine black suit, with an immaculately trimmed pointy grey beard The noble drew a rapier and lunged at the monkey nearest him, but it easily sidestepped his strike. The monkeys laughed in a chorus of shrieks and began pelting the noble with bananas.

The soldier was stricken with immense shame upon seeing an unarmored noble face the attackers, while he, a hired guard in full armor, cowardly fled from the simian assailants. The soldier mustered all his courage and charged at the circle of monkeys. They squealed as he landed a few well-placed strikes, before scampering off into the trees.

“Boy! What’s your name?” the Noble called out upon being rescued.

“My name...” the soldier hesitated. “Call me Ray, Sir.”

“Very well, Ray. I, of course, am your employer Duke Rarey A. Steakson. Come hither, for I require a guard against this sudden assault!”

Ray did as he was told, and ran over to the Duke while exclaiming “This road is supposed to be the safest route to Glasted! There certainly shouldn’t be monkey tribes in this part of the country! How can this be happening!”

“The monkeys must have gotten wind of what we’re transporting,” Duke Rarey replied. “Even though this forest is far from their regular territory, our cargo was too tempting for the Monkeys to resist coming here for.”

“Cargo!?” Ray asked in confusion. “We’re only transporting handmade crochet coasters. Why do the monkeys want those?”

Duke Rarey shook his head. “That’s just the cover story we created to protect our true cargo. Those boxes that you thought were filled with coasters are actually filled with literally every horse in all of Aquila.”

“No!” Ray exclaimed in disbelief.

“It’s true,” Rarey responded sombrely.

“Must we fight off the monkeys then?” Ray asked fearfully.

“No, It’s too dangerous.” Duke Rarey responded. “I only hired a small number of mercenaries to avoid drawing attention to the convoy. There’s nothing such a small force can do against the monkeys.”

“If you were so careful to maintain appearances, why did the monkeys attack us?” Ray asked.

“They must have had an informant,” Duke Rarey responded. “I was overconfident in my ruse, leading to my downfall. Alas, there is nothing more we can do. Escort me to safety, I must inform the king at once.”

Ray stumbled after Duke Rarey through the forest the forest, as they fled the monkeys and dended off those that overtook them. Finally, the two men entered the capital city.

“You have done well to escort me this far,” Rarey stated.

“I...suppose,” Ray said, acutely aware of his cowardice during the battle.

“Here is a token of my appreciation,” Rarey continued while placing a gold coin into Ray’s armored glove.

Generously compensated for the job, Ray walked off.

“Will Aquila fall?” he wondered, wandering aimlessly. “The loss of our horses is a grievous blow to both the economy and military. Can the country survive such a disaster? What misfortune to have been present at the moment of the kingdom’s downfall!”

Ray found himself at the entrance of his favorite pub, so he decided to find himself a seat as well.

“He usual?” The barkeep asked.

Ray stared at the counter for a few moments, then mustered up the enthusiasm to nod in response to the barkeep’s query.

“Something got you down?” The bartender asked. “Wait, don’t tell me -- you got your heart broken by a girl.”

“Something like that,” Ray responded. The Aquilian government would be sure to cover up what had happened for as long as possible, lest the country’s enemies capitalize on its current weakness. It would be imprudent to frivolously reveal what had actually transpired.

Ray sipped at his drink for the rest of the evening, ordering a refill whenever he saw the bottom of his glass.

The sun set, and when the bar had to close, Ray staggered into the night. Swaying through an alleyway, he leaned against a wall for support. He leaned against the wall for a while, until his hand slipped and he stumbled to the ground. At this point, he lost his composure and began to sob.”

“Our beloved king always told us ‘Horses are great ‘cause they’re fast!’!”

The tears streamed down Ray’s face.

“Every year the King said ‘I’ve always wanted to sneak attack people with horses ‘cause their messengers won’t be able to relay the deception in time!’ But now he never will have that opportunity! Why doth the cruel hand of fate render tragedy for those who dare aspire greatness? The man discontent to skulk low to the dirt is punished for raising its head! Is man’s function truly so bleak? And I shall have to live knowing I fled the scene where our aspirations were crushed! Oh woe is me to be such a pathetic guard!”

Ray threw up and passed out.

In the early light of dawn, Ray was awakened by someone calling his name.

“Soldier Ray! It is I, no longer Duke Rarey A. Steakson! As the man responsible for the outcome of operation Crochet, I have been stripped of my title and exiled from Aquilla for the loss of the country’s horses. Yet such it as I deserve, having failed my nation so.”

Ray looked at the ground, ashamed that he had fallen into despondency while Rarey faced his far graver situation with such dignity.”

“I have 3 days to gather my belongs and evict myself from the kingdom. But I shall not be gathering my belongings!” Rarey continued. “In my youth, my grandfather Mignon Steakson set me on his knee and told me fantastic fables. One such fable states that atop the tallest peak of the Athelas mountains lives a noble stallion of the finest, most pure of breeds. I know not whether this fable is true, but I shall spend my remaining 3 days in my homeland to scour the mountaintops in search of this stallion!”

“But if you can’t find this tall tale, then in three days you will be exiled from Aquila with no belongings! You’ll quickly die in the wilderness!

“If such an outcome occurs, so be it, for such is my just atonement for failing my nation.” Rarey said sombrely. “But, I do not expect such a fate to befall me, for you will be assisting my quest.”

“Me?” Ray asked, surprised.

“Yes. If you are concerned about payment, worry not. I leave to you my entire fortune and estate, as I will not be needing them should this expedition fail.”

“What?! Why?”

“Because the Athelas mountains are dangerous and I require an escort.”

“No, why me?” Ray asked.

“Ah. Because the King commanded me to maintain the utmost secrecy about the loss of our nations horses, so I cannot divulge the matter to anyone else. You, however, already know of this kingdom’s predicament, so there should be no issue.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Now, let us get moving, boy! We’re on a tight deadline with no time to spare! Take this bag.”

Rarey removed one of the large packs each slung over his shoulder and tossed one to Ray. Ray struggled to catch it, and when he did grab it, was nearly pulled down by its heavy weight. By the time he steadied himself, he had to jog after Rarey, who had already proceeded some distance down the road.

The two spent the entire day hiking across the Aquila’s green plains. They reached the foot of the imposing mountain range just as the sun began to set.

Rarey pointed at the tallest peak directly ahead of them.

“You see that Ray? That’s the tallest mountain in all of the Athelas range: Mt. Scary.”

“I see. Um...why is it called Mt. Scary exactly”

“Hmm, that’s a good question. I can’t say for sure, since no one has ever come back alive to explain what makes it so scary.”

“Are you sure one of the other mountains isn’t actually the tallest peak,” Ray asked hopefully.

“Well, that is a possibility. The national measurement tables are accurate only to an approximate degree, so there’s a good chance one of the nearby peaks is actually taller. But that is a gamble we have no choice but to take.”

Ray went silent.

“Do we have any food?” he asked after a while.

“I hope you like bread, since that’s the only ration we have.” Rarey responded.

“Really?!” Ray said, piping up. “I thoroughly love bread!”

Rarey chuckled, and tossed Ray a loaf, and a waterskin.

“Eat up boy. We have an even tougher march tomorrow.”

***

The next morning, they began their ascent. As they climbed higher and higher, the air became cold, then freezing. Rarey unpacked a thick wool coat for each of them, and they continued upward. Ray’s muscles burned from their rapid pace up such a steep path, and he desperately wanted to ask for moments rest. But Ray held his tongue, deciding that if the elderly Rarey could continue without slowing, he could as well.

Around midday, they reached a height at which a heavy mist enveloped them, obscuring their vision beyond a few yards (editor’s note: what is a yard?). Rarey slowed them down at this point.

“With our vision limited and a thousand foot drop to our right, it would be prudent to take our time here,” Rarey explained. Ray was just glad for the slower pace, whatever the reason.

Finally, they came to a halt, and Ray gratefully plopped to the ground.

“What are you doing fool? UP! Now!” Rarey snapped.

Ray scrambled to his feet.

“You’ll notice that we haven’t encountered any darkwraiths or ice elementals during our ascent” Rarey stated.

“That’s a relief!”

“Not at all! If the lesser friends avoid this slope, it can only mean that it is the territory of a much deadlier creature.”

“...deadlier than a nightwraith?” Ray nervously asked.

“Far deadlier. Native to this mountain is the deadly creature...goats.”

“Um...goats? How are goats deadly.’

“GET DOWN!” Rarey snapped. “There’s one now,” he said in hushed tones, pointing away from the mountain toward the cliff’s edge.

Through the obscuring mists, Ray could just make out a shadowed form floating in midair through the mists.

“It...it flies?!”

“Yes. That is no ordinary goat, but rather, a lethal Psychic Goat.”

Suddenly, the shadowy form of the flying goat turned to face right at them.

“RUN! IT’S SENSED US ALREADY!”

Rarey dashed away, and Ray hurriedly leapt in the other direction just as a goat swooped down at blinding speeds, swinging its horns where their heads had been moments before. The goat slowed to a stop, before sensing Ray’s presence through the thick mists. In an instant the mists billowed out of its way as it hurtled forward. Ray jumped to the side, and with his momentum swung his heavy pack at the goat, bashing it in the side. The goat careened off course, and crashed into the jagged slope of the mountain.

“I got it!” Ray exclaimed.

However, the goat did not stay down long. In an instant, the mists parted and disappeared, pushed away by an unseen force. Ray stared down the goat hovering just off the ground ahead of him. The goat stared back, and twitched its head the tiniest bit upwards. Ray lurched off his feet and hurtled toward the thousand foot drop beside him, but Rarey lept forward and grabbed his arm before he could tumble off. The goat twitched its head again, but just as it did so, Rarey drew from his pack a long glass broadsword and swept it through the air between he and the goat. There was a whistling sound as the goat vibrated back and forth before launching away at a thousand miles an hour.

“What? Did you defeat it?!” Ray asked, simultaneously shaken and excited.

“Yes,” Rarey replied matter of factly. “This is a sword forged from a glass element to deflect unseen magics. I deflected its psychic headbut back at it. It was already under the effect of one psychic force in order to hover. Upon being hit by a second psychic force, it rebounded quickly between the two conflicting forces until one of the forces snapped, sending it hurtling away.”

They traveled a short distance further up the mountain until they found a stone overhand to shelter under. Rarey removed a few branches from his pack and started a fire to keep them warm throughout the night.

He tossed Ray another loaf, and 2 waterskins.

“Good thing you like bread,” Rarey commented.

“Yup! I thoroughly like bread and am bad at spelling!” Ray said cheerfully.

“Good. Just make sure to stay hydrated. If you need another waterskin, inform me.”

***

One the dawn of the final morning, the fog had lifted, and they could see an expanse of clouds far beneath them down the mountain.

“We’re far up!” Ray commented.

“We must get even farther by the end of the day,” Rarey commented curtly, hoisting his pack on his back and beginning their march.

Shortly after midday, the mountain slope leveled out. They had reached the peak.

“We did it!” Ray exclaimed. “This is where the stallion is, right?”

“Yes,” Rarey responded. Despite Rarey’s attempts to mask it, Ray heard a hint of uncertainty in the older man’s voice. He looked around.

“We should carefully investigate the area atop this mountain, as well as the other slopes leading here,” Rarey stated. They looked around, but no horses popped out in front of them. They searched futilely until sunset. They had investigated every crevice of the mountain’s peak, overturned every rock, but there was not a horse to be found.

“I’m sorry Ray,” Rarey commented. “I was foolish to raise our hopes with a myth. But bemoaning the past serves no purpose.” He began unpacking wood to start a fire.

“I’m sorry Rarey,” Ray called out after a moment of silence. “This is all my fault. I’m a coward, a useless coward.”

Rarey opened his mouth, perhaps to deny Ray’s self-deprecation, but remained quiet.

Ray collapsed to the ground and stared off into the sunset.

The sun covered the vast expanse of land visible from the mountain with a red glow. The sky burned orange, interrupted by long white clouds with a soft pink underbelly. The sun, a perfect sphere resting just upon the horizon, shonied vibrant orange all over, except for its middle which was blocked by a small silhouette of a horse.

“Wait what? Rarey! Look!” Ray shouted.

Rarey peered toward the sun and probably received eye damage, and then exclaimed “why of course! The horse is psychic too! It doesn’t need to remain on the peak because it can fly!”

“How do we get it over to use,” Ray asked excitedly.

“Don’t worry, I came prepared.” Rarey pulled a flashy red flag from his backpack.

“As I’m sure you know, horses are angered by the color red and can’t help but charge when they see it. I will bait it in, and while it is blinded by rage I will leap on it back and tame it.”

“Alright!” Ray exclaimed.

Rarey flapped the flag in the horse’s direction, but the horse did not stir from its position framed by the setting sun

“But how? Could this horse be somehow suppressing its primal instincts through psychic mastery?!” Rarey exclaimed incredulously.

“Perhaps in the red light of the sunset, everything looks red to it and it cannot distinguish the red of your cloak,” Ray proffered.

“Brilliant, boy! That must be it! But that means our plan is a bust!” Rarey stared at the horse thoughtful for a moment.

“Got any other plans?” Ray asked.

“No.”

They stared at the horse a bit more.

“Hey look! The stallion is coming toward us now!” Ray exclaimed.

Ray, glanced back at the stallion, and saw that Rarey was indeed correct.

“But why is he approaching now, when he wouldn’t before?” Ray pondered.

The reason quickly became apparent, as the silhouettes of 10 psychic goats appeared over the horizon.

“Oh no! The stallion is the natural predator of the goat, but in large numbers an angry herd of goats can easily take down a single stallion! This is a most dangerous situation!” Rarey exclaimed.

The stallion touched down on the peak a short distance from Rarey and Ray, and seconds later the mountaintop exploded into shrapnel under a bombard of psychic headbuts.

Rarey leapt forward, unsheathing his sword. The stallion was fleeing down the side of the mountain, hopping between outcroppings, and Rarey pursued it while deflecting psychic assaults. Without a moment's hesitation, Ray raced down the slope after the stallion as well.

“Ray!” Rarey called out. “Obtain the stallion while I dispatch the goats!”

Ray scrambled down the slope, but the stallion, using its psychic abilities when necessary, easily outpaced the slow humans. Ray realized that they could never catch up. He took note of the horse’s position beneath him, and backed away from the cliff’s edge. He took a deep breath, and dashed toward the cliff, leaping off the edge.

“Dang it I was planning to land on the horse’s back but it moved away so now I’m going to die” Ray said.

However, just as Ray was about to impale himself on the jagged rocks below, the psychic stallion leapt back to where it was previously standing to catch Ray’s fall.

“Yes!” Ray exclaimed. “All according to plan!”

He looked back to see how Rarey was faring, just in time to see a goat bash into Rarey’s side, knocking the glass sword to the ground where it shattered. A second goat instantly followed up with a psychic blow that sent Rarey hurtling down the rocky cliffside until his body fell through the cloud cover and disappeared.

Ray screamed in a jumble of horror, sadness, and anger.

He kicked his heals into the side of the stallion, spurring it higher and higher into the air. The goats, turning their attention back toward the stallion, leapt off the mountainside and quickly began flying his way.

The goats drew closer, up until a point, at which they maintained a safe distance and slowly spread out in a circle around Ray and the stallion. Once they had them surrounded, they began tightening the circle.

Ray felt the sinews of the horse beneath him, heard it's breathing, and instinctively knew what to do. He waited, as the goats drew closer and closer, and then, just as the first goat twitched its head to make a psychic attack, he sprang into action. He leapt off the horse’s back, flipping through the air. Then, he reached beneath him, grabbed the stallion, and using his momentum, swung the stallion in a 360 degree circle like a sword, firing a blast of psychic energy from the horse at all the surrounding goats. Trapped between the stallion’s psychic blast and their own hovering forces, the goats trembled in mid-air momentarily before being launched into the sunset where they burnt to a crisp.

***

Ray returned to Aquila, with his stallion, and took it to a stable to check it in and get it some food.

“Thank you for storing your horse with Horse Company™,” the stablemaster said cheerfully. “Believe it or not, you’re the first customer we’ve had in the past three days. Must have been some downturn in the horse market or somethin’.”

“Quite the downturn,” Ray responded.

“To finalize your horse check in, please tell us your horse’s name,” the stablemaster told Ray.

“My horse’s name? I supposed I haven’t thought of that yet…”

“Don’t worry, we have a patented system for assigning the horse a default name. Our award winning default naming system calls each horse ‘A [name of person] horse.’ So for example, my name’s Ebward L. Wardson, so any horse stored under my name using the default naming system would be called ‘An Ebward L. Wardson horse.’ See how it works?”

“I guess,” Ray responded.

“Good! We just need your name and we’ll get down to assigning your horse a default name?”

The stablemaster peered down at Ray’s nametag.

“Ray Ian? That’s a funny name. You got no last name? Hah!”

“NO IT IS NOT FUNNY!” Ray shouted angrily. The stablemaster was taken aback.

“Sorry sorry,” the stablemaster stuttered. “...I’ll just write it on the application real quick.”

“Wait!” Ray shouted desperately.

***

Ever since his birth, Ray was destined to be different. When he was born, his parents forgot to give him a last name. When they realized they messed up, they decided to give him 2 first names to make up for it. From that moment on, Ray’s full name was “Ray Ian.”

***

The memories flashed through his mind

***

“Ha ha ha! Everyone! This fellow preschooler has two first names! Let’s gather around and laugh at him while his brain is still in a formative state to give him a traumatic experience!”

***

“Pst! Do you have the answers for this test we’re both taking as highschoolers? Hey wait a moment, you’re that Ray Ian kid. Nevermind, I don’t want help cheating from someone with two first names.”

***

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I must decline your job application for your dream job. With a name like Ray Ian, you’re not cut out to be a bread waiter.”

***

Ray snapped back to the present.

“My name will no longer be Ray Ian! With the addition of this middle initial, my name will be...Ray B. Ian!!!”

The stablemaster gasped. “With the addition of a middle initial to separate his two names, his second first name is now his last name! What an ingenious maneuver!”

***

After storing the first Ray B. Ian horse at the stable, Ray used the late Duke Rarey’s fortune to invest in some cloning magic, and cloned a thousand more Ray B. Ian horses. He began selling the horses, which were quite popular on the account of being psychic, and in time he had the funds to build a Horse Factory that mass produced psychic horses. Naturally, he always kept the original Ray B. Ian horse because they had a special bond and whatnot.

After a couple years of running his horse business successfully and saving the Aquila economic and military ruin, he was surprised to notice that he only made 5 cents off every sale of horses that he made.

“That’s weird,” he thought. “I thought I would earn more for selling psychic horses.”

Ray checked in with the stablemaster who was storing his horses to see if he had any idea where the profit margins were being lost.

“Ah, well it could be our patented naming system. We hired an advanced team of scientists to develop the system, and in order to recover the initial expenditure we charge 2 cents per character in your horse’s name.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the problem. I’m selling these horses for thousands of dollars you know.”

“Well, that’s the only possible reason I can think of,” the stablemaster replied.

“Sure, thanks for your time,” Ray responded, walking away. He turned back one more time before leaving? “Are you sure you can’t think of anything that might be raising the overhead costs?”

“Well...there is the problem of spacing,” the stablemaster added after a moment’s thought.

“Spacing?” Ray asked.

“Yes. We’re quite proud that through our brilliant innovation, our default naming system does allow for spaces. However, since they still are very difficult to handle in our system, whenever you register a horse with our default naming system, you are charged ten thousand dollars per space in the horse’s name.

“What the brick? Well I’d better name the horses something without spaces then.”

“Of course, sir. Each horse is currently referred to as ‘a Ray B. Ian Horse’. Do you have any idea what you want to call them from now on?”

“Hmm...well I do like bread.”

And that was how the Thoroughbred horse was invented.