Shepard Howard, 17 (Bovaria Male)
Bovaria baked beneath the unyielding sun, a town carved out of the dusty plains where the heat clung to every surface like a second skin. The wooden buildings, sun-bleached and weatherworn, stood as stubborn sentinels against the relentless sandstorms that whipped through the streets. The town's architecture was a blend of necessity and resilience—broad, low structures with thick shutters to keep out both the scorching winds and the suffocating grit that found its way into every crevice. Rough-hewn boards creaked underfoot as people hurried through their routines, heads bowed against the swirling dust.
At the heart of Bovaria lay the bustling marketplace, an open space where traders bartered over livestock, their shouts mingling with the bleating of goats and the lowing of cattle. The scent of sweat, hay, and animal musk hung in the air, mingling with the occasional waft of sizzling meat from a nearby food stall. The people of Bovaria were as tough as the land they called home, their skin bronzed and cracked from years of working under the sun, their hands calloused from wrangling animals and repairing fences.
Beyond the marketplace, the town stretched out in a haphazard sprawl—homes and workshops interspersed with stables and paddocks. The constant clatter of hooves against the packed earth underscored life in Bovaria; this was a place where horses were prized above all else. Massive corrals dominated the outskirts, where ranchers and trainers worked tirelessly to tame and train the sleek, muscled beasts destined for service across the empire.
To the south, the land opened up into vast, flat pastures—an ocean of golden scrub and parched grass stretching as far as the eye could see. It was here, on the town's edge, that Shepard's family ranch stood—one of the few places where the land still held a hint of green, nurtured by sheer determination and the rare bursts of rain that painted the landscape in fleeting shades of life.
The wind howled through the wooden slats as Shep stood outside, his eyes squinting against the sun. The town moved at its usual rhythm—slow, deliberate, and enduring. But today felt different, an undercurrent of tension hanging in the dusty air. Everyone was on edge, knowing the Reaping was tomorrow. For a town built on the back of hard work and survival, the looming presence of the Lusus Mortis cast a shadow even the unrelenting sun couldn't chase away.
Shep stood, watching as Periwinkle kicked up sand, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. The handlers tugged at his reins, jerking him toward the carriage meant to haul him away, but the horse balked, fighting against the rough treatment. The midmorning sun bore down relentlessly, the sky a merciless blue, and sweat trickled down Shep's back as he leaned against the weathered fence.
"Easy now," Shep called, pushing off the wood and stepping into the corral. The other men shot him impatient looks, their grips on Periwinkle's reins tightening, but Shep ignored them. He had spent years raising Periwinkle, nurturing him from a skittish foal into the powerful, graceful horse he was now. He couldn't stand there and watch while strangers frightened him into submission.
"Let me handle it," Shep said, his voice low and calm. The handlers hesitated, then released the reins, backing off with shrugs. Shep approached slowly, extending a hand and letting Periwinkle catch his scent. "There you go, boy. It's alright." He rubbed Periwinkle's nose, the soft velvet of his muzzle pressing into Shep's palm. The tension in the horse's muscles began to melt away.
"They won't get anywhere with him like that," Shep muttered, more to himself than to the handlers. "You have to show him some respect, some care. Horses are like people—they respond to love, not force."
One of the handlers scoffed, wiping sweat from his brow. "We don't have time to coddle some fancy show horse. He's off to Nova Roma today, and he better be ready to perform."
Shep's chest tightened at the mention of Nova Roma, of the Lusus Mortis . It wasn't just the thought of Periwinkle parading around the coliseum, pulling chariots filled with bloodthirsty nobles, that gnawed at him. It was the reminder of what awaited the Tributes—two children from Bovaria included—who'd soon be fighting for their lives. But he pushed those thoughts away, focusing on calming Periwinkle. This was the last moment he'd have with the horse, and he wasn't about to let it be tainted by frustration.
Shep stroked Periwinkle's mane, murmuring soft words, until the horse's breathing evened out. With gentle coaxing, he guided him toward the waiting carriage. The handlers stood back, watching with grudging respect as Periwinkle, now calm, stepped up without resistance.
"There you go, old boy," Shep whispered. His fingers lingered in Periwinkle's mane, feeling the silken strands slip away as the horse moved out of reach. His heart ached at the thought of not seeing him in the mornings, of not hearing his familiar whinny as he brought him his feed. The white horse had been his constant companion for years, and saying goodbye felt like losing a piece of himself.
The handlers secured Periwinkle and gave Shep a nod before mounting their own horses. The small convoy kicked up dust as they departed, leaving Shep alone in the swirling sand. He watched until the figures disappeared over the horizon, his vision blurred by the heat waves.
Shep's gaze dropped to the ground, fists clenching at his sides. He knew he should be proud—Periwinkle had grown into a magnificent horse, fit for the grand ceremonies in Nova Roma. But all he could feel was the hollow ache of loss, and the nagging worry of what would become of his gentle companion in a city that thrived on blood and spectacle.
He turned away, heading back toward the wooden barn where the familiar whinnies of the other horses greeted him. For now, all he could do was give these animals the love they deserved—something, he hoped, that Periwinkle would remember even in the madness of Nova Roma.
Shepard made his way to the last stall. The scent of hay and leather mixed with the musk of animals, a familiar comfort that now felt hollow. He reached Periwinkle's stall and leaned against the wooden door, his heart heavy. The remnants of breakfast—a half-eaten bundle of oats that Shep lacked the heart to remove. Shepard swallowed hard and stepped inside, slumping down into the hay beside where Periwinkle used to sleep. The stall was their sanctuary, a place where they'd weathered everything together, from the brutal heat of summer to the crackling storms that left the horse trembling in fear.
He could still remember one stormy night, the wind howling like a pack of wolves outside. Periwinkle had been skittish, his eyes wide with fear as lightning cracked across the sky. Shepard had stayed with him the whole night, huddled against the horse's side, whispering soft reassurances as he stroked his mane. That bond, forged in fear and trust, had grown into something unbreakable. And now, it was being torn apart. He reached out, letting his fingers grab at the hey beneath him, memorizing the feel of it. How could he say goodbye?
The sound of footsteps broke the silence, and Shepard looked up to see a woman round the corner. She was dressed in a simple tunic, her face lined with years of managing the ranch and overseeing the comings and goings of countless horses. Her gaze softened when she saw him slumped in the hay, and she paused at the stall door, sympathy in her eyes.
"First one's always the hardest," she said gently. "Is he the first horse you've trained and sent away?"
Shepard shook his head, brushing away the prickle of tears. "No, ma'am. He's the second. My first was Twinkle. Sent him to District 7 four years back." He managed a small, sad smile. "But Periwinkle... he's different. Feels like I'm losing a friend."
The woman nodded, understanding. "You did good work with him, Shep. He's going to be pulling chariots in Nova Roma, showing off those fancy folks at the Lusus Mortis . Not many horses get that kind of honor."
She reached into her satchel and pulled out a small leather pouch, handing it to him. Shepard felt the weight of the coins inside, the cold metal pressing into his palm as he counted out the thirty sestertii. It was a good price for a horse, but it felt cheap compared to what Periwinkle meant to him. Still, he thanked her and slipped the pouch into his pocket, already thinking of how to spend it. He glanced down at his worn shoes, the leather cracked and the toes poking out, and sighed. There wouldn't be much left after buying new ones.
The woman watched him, her expression softening further. "You want to see your next charge?" she asked, offering him a distraction from the heartache of saying goodbye.
Shepard nodded slowly and stood, "Yeah, let's see him," he said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. But as they walked down the barn toward the next stall, his thoughts lingered on the horse he was leaving behind, the friend he'd never see again.
Shepard followed the woman down the barn aisle, his mind still heavy with thoughts of Periwinkle. As they reached the last stall, she slid the wooden door open to reveal a small, skinny black foal huddled in the corner. The young horse was all legs and ribs, with a wild look in its dark eyes. The foal snorted nervously, ears twitching at every creak and shuffle in the barn.
"This one's destined for the chariot races in Nova Roma," the woman said. "He's got to be fast, no matter what. It's a hard life for these racehorses—short, brutal, but that's the way of it. He'll need someone with a gentle touch to build his trust."
Shepard's heart tightened as he crouched down, moving slowly to avoid spooking the foal. He extended his hand, palm up, letting the horse sniff him. For a moment, the foal trembled, unsure, its instincts telling it to flee. But Shepard stayed still, murmuring soft words of reassurance. After a few tense seconds, the foal leaned forward, nudging his hand with a curious nose. Shepard smiled, reaching out to stroke the sleek black coat, feeling the warmth beneath the thin layer of fur. The foal's fear began to melt away, replaced by a cautious curiosity.
"Good boy," Shepard whispered, running his hand down the foal's neck. "You're gonna do just fine."
The woman leaned against the stall door, watching the interaction with an approving nod. "He's taken to you already. What're you gonna call him?"
Shepard glanced up, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Incitatus," he said, grinning.
The woman burst out laughing. "Incitatus? Swift? For this scrawny thing?"
Shepard chuckled, giving the foal another gentle pat. "It's perfect for a racehorse. He'll grow into the name—just watch."
She shook her head, still smiling. "You've always had a knack for seeing the potential in them, Shep."
Shepard stood, brushing the dust from his pants. He felt a sense of determination rise in him, a familiar challenge. "I'll start training him after the reaping tomorrow," he said, though his eyes remained fixed on the foal. "But tonight, I'll sleep in the pen with him. We need to get used to each other."
The woman's expression softened with a hint of admiration. "You don't have to do that, you know. But you always do, don't you?"
Shepard shrugged, his gaze never leaving Incitatus. "It's how you build trust. He needs to know he's safe with me from the start."
The woman nodded and left him there, standing in the dim light of the stall. Shepard watched as Incitatus nuzzled at the leftover hay, still skittish but already calmer than when he'd first arrived. The bond between them had begun, fragile as a spider's web but strong enough to grow. Shepard knew the foal's future would be rough, but he also knew he'd do everything he could to prepare him for it.
"Alright, Incitatus," Shepard murmured, settling down in the hay next to the foal. "Let's see what you've got."
And there we have Shepard Howard. I went a bit of a different route with him so hopefully his submitter is pleased with him!
I have up until the Reaping mostly finished so that's why updates have been fast. I think I'll end up posting Enzo's introduction tonight too. I'm enjoying these chapters but I'm excited to get into the main story and Nova Roma.
Next: Enzo and Carbonarium.
Until next time!