Tug
Pick a place to die where it's high and dry
T
ug perhaps, a bit ironically, was more like the king than the crowd of peasants, of courtiers, that gathered before him.The King wasn't particularly ugly - in fact, he caught Tug's eye though the stallion could have snorted, a King! - but he was brawny and big, standing shorter than himself but only by little, not even a hoof's length if Tug were a betting man. And though he knows him not by much, knows only the King's words, he likes him immediately. A soldier, a man who has spilled his blood for his kingdom. Not some fancy, inbred royal bred for the position who would snap if they so much as sneezed wrong, a man who knew what it was like for the lowly citizens like himself.
Two people called their support to their new sovereign before some woman challenged him - quickly shut down by their new king, and Tug liked him even more. And so it was that his voice rang out, clear and deep as a hoof stamping against hard-packed earth, "I shall stand by you, my King."
Tell 'em where you been
Pray that Hell or Heaven lets you in
