A Centaur Prince's morning toilet
Melagar gave a mighty bellow of a yawn as he greeted the new day. Around him, a team of nameless slave animals hurried about their grooming tasks. They tended to his coat, supplied his mountain spring water, and collected his urine, all working in total silence and with the greatest diligence lest they incur the Centaur Prince’s wrath in the form of a bone-shattering kick or getting thrown across the hall. Their welfare was of little consequence to him. If one fell, the next day another of the queer bipedal creatures would take its place. The Centaur looked down in contempt at their docile behavior and deep-seated aversion to looking him in the eyes. Pitiful, but not unexpected. After all, these animals were stable-born, descendant from wild stock his dear father had victoriously brought home, in chains, from raids carried out in the King’s younger days. Compared to those savages, these colts had been broken in and put to work as soon as they could walk on their two weak legs...