Samsul accepted the curtsy and smiled slightly at the princess, feeling that it was a nice and honorable gesture, although he had not become the head just yet. It was quite the honor, and since all of the remaining clans grouped together in the castle, many of them had different views and beliefs about what a leader should be, so actually becoming the head was much more difficult.

As he entered the pasture, Samsul easily spotted his large and imposing horse, who was standing with a small group of other horses. The occasional neigh escaped it's mouth as Samsul got closer, and didn't react negatively. If it were anyone else handling it, the horse would have made it's top priority to escape and find it's master. The horse had been with Samsul since his young years, and the two have created a bond of trust. The horse had a name, but it was an old Lost Elf word, so whenever he called out to his horse, to many it would seem like he was shouting gibberish and nonsense. Samsul took his horse and led it to the stables, where he would saddle up with his own saddle. Like his armor and many other things, the Lost Elves would create their own saddles, used with their own horse or horses.