Miles waited there for about two hours.
He did not spend that time idle. He used his Magic Eye to survey the nearby terrain and quietly signaled the Scout Mage Soldiers in his party to sketch a simple map, marking possible ambush sites and water sources.
When footsteps sounded in the distance and the maned Centaur returned, three older Centaurs accompanied him.
Their faces differed, but all three had gray-white manes and wore clothing unlike that of ordinary Centaurs.
The one in front wore his mane in dreadlocks. Deep claw marks scored his face, and his gaze was sharp as a hawk's.
"I am Gray Hoof Morning Star, the clan's grand elder."
The old Centaur's voice was deep and restrained, carrying an authority that was hard to describe.
As he reached the border, he studied Miles for a long moment before speaking. "Iron Mane told me your Governor's Office wants to trade with us. He also said you're willing to help us fight off our enemies if we're attacked?"
"A long-term partnership of mutual benefit would be more accurate," Miles corrected him earnestly.
"Heh!"
Gray Hoof gave a low laugh, like a sudden gale sweeping across the grasslands in late autumn. It was strangely unsettling. "You humans always like to make simple things sound complicated. Never mind that. I've tried the horseshoe your governor sent."
He raised a forehoof, revealing the brand-new metal shoe beneath it.
Reddish light from the setting sun fell across the horseshoe, drawing shifting, dreamlike colors from the runes engraved on it.
"Honestly, you've improved the horseshoe far more than our own craftsmen could. Especially this—"
Gray Hoof tapped the ground with the tip of his hoof. In the next instant, the horseshoe's runes glimmered.
A steady pulse of magic spread beneath his hoof, setting the