Polished steel sliced through the air, clashing against wood and iron as it struck home. Again and again it attacked, quick jabs and powerful slashes, and each time it was met by the impenetrable wood and iron of a tower shield or the parrying strike of another blade.

For the past half hour Celestia had been training intently with the assistance of Stonewall and Tercio, brought upon by the old stallion's insistence that the princess learn to defend herself better in the event of a future attack. She had been reluctant at first, claiming to avoid conflict when necessary, but before long she had been convinced to see the practical side of things. Next time, Stonewall had said, the praetorians might not be enough.

"Time your blows, Princess," he reminded her, pacing back and forth while she sparred. She'd shown a good deal more skill than he'd imagined, but she was rusty and tended to flail rather than pick her strikes. In the thirty years he'd served at her side, it was the first time he'd actually seen the princess training with any conviction.

Maybe, he mused, the attack has finally lit a fire under her ass.

"Play to your strengths. Watch your opponent. Attack from unexpected angles."

Celestia trained using a longsword, nearly twice the size of a standard gladius, which allowed her to exploit her taller frame and focus her magic more effectively. Her opponent, Tercio, fought using the standard gladius and tower shield, with a smaller buckler as a back-up. It would suffice for initial training.

Tercio held his shield at neck level, covering himself from top to bottom and leaving only his head and ankles exposed. In his right hand he grasped his blade, keeping it high and ready. For a brief second he planned his movements, then let out a shout and pushed himself off his heels with a surge of speed. The ferocity of the attack caught Celestia by surprise, and she took a step back as her levitated sword clanged harmlessly off the front of the shield. She struggled to remain in control of the weapon, then, in a moment of desperation, brought the sword around from behind to strike at Tercio's back. Without missing a step he swung his shield around, bringing it up to cover himself in one, smooth motion as he went into a sideways stance, blocking the weapon effortlessly with his left hand and thrusting his gladius out with his right. The blunted blade stopped a scant inch from Celestia's throat, and she gulped in surprise.

"Ha! Very good, Krosus! Very good!" Stonewall stomped a hoof on the ground and laughed a short laugh. He motioned to the shield as Tercio dropped his stance and returned to a resting position. "How in the nine hells did you figure that one out?"

"Polaris tried that on me once before. It caught me off guard then," he answered, then tapped a finger against the side of his head, "but I remember. When the princess lost control of her weapon I thought she might try something similar."

"Well hell, maybe you're not useless after all."

"So I would hope." He turned to Celestia and bowed slightly. "Apologies for surprising you like that, Princess."

"No need to be sorry, my friend. That was quite skillful of you. To be honest it's been a very long time since I've taken combat training so seriously. I wish I'd done so sooner."

"How long, exactly?"

"Too long," Stonewall quipped.

"Over fifty years ago," Celestia admitted sheepishly. "Luna and I would spar sometimes, but combat seemed like a distant concern compared to the daily routine of politics and meeting the needs of Equestria's citizens. In hindsight, I feel rather foolish for it."

"You could not have known," Tercio reassured her. "You were merely doing what any good ruler would do: putting the people ahead of yourself."

"Perhaps. But I can no longer pretend that Canterlot is entirely safe, no matter how many guards we may have. I want to be prepared, both for myself and for all of you. I owe it to you and Stonewall and everypony else to not be a burden should we find ourselves under attack again."

"Very noble, Princess. Now, if it pleases the Imperator, we'll continue."

Stonewall waved them on.

Celestia returned to a ready stance, her hooves firmly planted and her longsword floating in front of her in a shimmering field of yellow magic.

"Think about me as an opponent," Terco said. "An enemy. I am your equal in height, I am able to extend my attack range further than any pegasus or stallion, but you are not limited to the movement of a weapon clasped in a hand or held in a mouth. I have reach, you have flexibility."

She nodded, then took a deep breath.

"Right. Whenever you're ready, Ter--oh!"

Tercio struck out without warning, stabbing his gladius forward and just barely missing Celestia's chest. She took a step back, but recovered far more quickly than the previous bout. Her longsword thudded against Tercio's shield in a heavy slash, and with a grunt of exertion she pushed the sword with enough power to skid Tercio back on the tile by several inches. Her horn flared with a second layer of energy, enveloping the first, and the longsword scraped off the side of the shield. She thrust it out once more, narrowly passing his shoulder, and Tercio took the brief moment of respite to swing his shield up. Celestia caught the movement, dodged to the right, and brought her sword plunging down from above. It landed hard enough to embed itself in the tower shield's wooden structure for a heartbeat, and as she yanked it free she found a gladius stopped directly in front of her face.

"I thought I had you that time," she said after she recovered her bearing.

"You almost did."

Stonewall approached. "The problem, Your Highness, is that while your offensive capabilities are strong, your defensive abilities are weak. There is a reason we train with sword and board: you need equal parts attack and defense."

Celestia frowned. "I can't very well be seen walking around Canterlot with a large shield at my side, Imperator. Imagine what such an image would convey to the ponies of Canterlot."

"Strength? Fighting spirit?" he answered sincerely.

"Fear. My subjects expect to see their princess calm and in control. Such a thing would be self-defeating were I to wander around, armed and armored, as if I were expecting an attack at any moment." She motioned to the two praetorians. "That's what I have you and your kin for, after all."

Stonewall rubbed his chin. "Mmm. Fair enough. Still, I don't like you being defenseless."

"Should such a need arise, I can equip myself for battle, provided I have the time to prepare. At the very least I could, perhaps, keep a weapon concealed on or around the dais?"

Tercio raised a hand to get their attention.

"If I may make a suggestion? You want something that will be effective, yet you also want it to be easy to hide from view. A tower shield is much too large to keep concealed, obviously -- but what about a pair of longswords? Perhaps with a small buckler strapped to her upper foreleg?"

"I don't know..." Stonewall replied.

"Think of it this way: Princess Celestia already has the means to carry a sword with her, as we saw during the attack, so it's conceivable that a second wouldn't be much encumberment. It would allow her to levitate her weapons while keeping her agility and providing a means of defense. Plus, a pair of scabbards are easier to hide from view than a large shield. Such a combat load-out could be equipped and ready to use in mere seconds."

Stonewall looked up at Celestia. "Princess? What do you think?"

"I have to default to you, my friend. You have far more experience with arms than I."

"Well, it's certainly a viable idea, but if this is what we agree on then you're going to have to commit to a schedule of training, at least three to four days a week. Dual blades are not unheard of, but it requires a level of focus and knowledge far above that of a shield and gladius. This will not be an easy task to master."

Celestia looked at the sword levitating before her, its blade reflecting the sunlight glow of her magic.

"If it means potentially saving the life of even a single pony," she said confidently, "then I will do it."

"Very well then, it's settled."

"You are going to need another sword, Princess," Tercio said, pointing with his gladius. "Unfortunately longswords are not something we typically carry in the armory."

Stonewall answered for her. "Let me take care of that. And while we're at it, neither you nor I can use magic, so levitating something is far beyond our abilities. But I think I know a way to fix that little problem. Now, back to your ready positions. We're not done for today just yet."

Slow and painful. That's how Victus would have described his progress. When he'd been told to run reconnaissance on a newly-discovered Nightmare Moon cultist camp, he hadn't expected to take an hour or more to crawl his way through the rain and mud to avoid detection.

His team was small, consisting of himself, his fellow experienced legionary and long-time friend, Chiron, and a few newly-anointed soldiers who had proven themselves in battle -- Steel Spark, Sertis, and Rockfall. The first part of the plan was to locate the camp at the edge of the forest, attain an exact count of the cultists' numbers, and grab anything that could help link it with other groups. Hopefully without conflict.

"Quit your bitching, ponies."

Gilias, the battle-hardened griffon. She was the second part of the plan, the distraction. Her task was to present herself to the cultists as an aspiring member, then cause as much commotion as possible to draw the others around her. Surprisingly, she was all for it.

"You're going in unarmed?" Victus had asked her before they left the Legion camp.

"Unarmed? Of course not. I have these." With her signature grin she'd clacked her talons together, and made it very clear that she was more than capable of handling whatever a few fanatics could throw at her.

Now she found herself crawling through the filth like everyone else, getting her feathers and fur matted with mud, dead leaves and torn grass. Unlike everyone else, she relished it.

"This kind of weather makes you feel alive, my equine friends! Drink it in!"

"I do not see how you can be so excited about dragging ourselves through wet, sucking mud, Batttle-Master," Rockfall said in a harsh whisper. None of them wore any sort of armor, lest it give them away, instead carrying simple belts that held water flasks and a single gladius. Those who had lighter-colored coats or manes, like Victus, had covered themselves in a dark brown powder that would conceal their forms. It clung to his skin and feathers and itched like mad, but it was better than being caught.

"If you'd grown up in Skytalon you would cherish the rain, Equestrian. The only moisture we ever see up there is snow, snow, and more snow. Oh, and ice. So look on the bright side: you could be freezing your ass off right now."

"Silence," Victus ordered, lifting a hoof. The tall, triangular shapes of the cultist encampment were finally within view, a small sea of tents and lean-to structures. Silhouetted shadows traveled between them. "We hold here for now. Steel Spark, Rockfall, you will take the left flank. Sertis, Chiron, you take the right. Remember: slow movements, and keep your head low. Try to get an accurate count of number and species, or race. If we're compromised, regroup at this spot. Once Gilias has their attention I will make my way to the camp. Understood?"

"Understood," they answered as one.

"Very well. Battle-Master Gilias, I believe this is your time to shine. Best of luck."

"Luck?" Gilias chortled. "If I can survive a bunch of pissed-off deer slinging explosives at me, I can handle a few fanatics." She pulled herself up from the mud, not bothering to brush any of it off. "One last thing before I go."

"Yes?"

"Hit me."

Victus looked at her like she'd just grown a second head.

"...what?"

"You heard me, pony. Hit me. I gotta look the part of a griffon on her last legs."

"I..." He gave up with a sigh. "Fine. But this is your idea, not mine."

"No shit. Hurry it up, will you?"

Victus stood up, staring at the griffon for a moment, then cocked back a foreleg.

"Hey," she said intently, "do me a favor, and don't be a pussy about it."

Reluctantly he mustered as much strength as he could, then drove his hoof forward. It hit Gilias in her left cheek hard enough to draw a thin gash of blood that dyed her feathers pink as it mixed with the rain. Immediately the entire side of her face began to swell, the skin turning purple and red under her white plumage. She held her position, unmoving, for several seconds, breathing deeply.

"Not bad," she finally said, laughing between winces of pain and sucking breaths. "I could kill someone with my bare claws right now. Let's hope the cultist scum don't piss me off, hmm?" She looked herself over once more and said, "here goes everything."

Victus hit the ground as soon as Gilias turned to leave. The others looked at him with amused interest.

"What? You have your orders, legionaries, get moving!"

The ponies around him started their slow crawl to their overwatch positions while Victus kept an eye on Gilias. It only took a few moments for her to clear the mouth of the forest, where she immediately began to hobble along, nearly dragging herself in feigned injury. She coughed and wheezed, faintly audible above the rain.

"Battle-Master, warrior, trainer," Victus chuckled to himself, "and now, actor. Consider me impressed, Gilias."

For their diminutive size, Gilias thought between limping steps, ponies were a lot stronger than they looked. She was impressed by the pegasus and his decidedly painful right hook. If she'd had any teeth, there would have been a good chance she'd be missing a few.

"Intruder! Stop right there!"

They'd finally noticed her, a small band of figures wrapped in dark blue, hooded cloaks. Three appeared to be earth ponies, with the bulge in the fourth's hood marking him as a unicorn. Gilias did as she was told, coming to a stop with a claw clutching the side of her face.

"Who are you, and why do you trespass on sacred land?"

The pony in the center, large in build and with a distinctly northern accent, gazed upon her with cruel eyes. The tip of a scabbard jutted out from the back of his cloak. Presumably the others would be armed as well. There wouldn't be a lot of time if things went to shit.

Now or never, Gilias.

"B-Brothers...I am so glad to have...nngh...finally found you."

The gathered ponies looked at each other.

"Explain yourself, griffon. Do not dare to call me 'brother' in vain."

Gilias had prepared a sob-story for the occasion, one she was sure would win over even the blackest of hearts. That, or they'd see right through it and stick a blade in her throat. One of the two.

"I...I barely escaped. It was terrible. Those damned Celestia loyalists, they attacked my peaceful farming village! They came in and demanded that we give them everything we have -- our food, our water -- and when we resisted they...they killed my fucking dog! Ran him through like a damned creature of the forest! He was just a puppy! A puppy with a missing leg! And he was blind!"

Gilias collapsed to her knees and forced herself to cry, squeezing her swollen face to encourage the tears to flow.

"Those monsters," one of the cultists said. Well, at least that one wasn't too bright.

"When we still would not give in to their sick demands, they strung up my father, who was an unemployed invalid and also suffering from the pox, right before my eyes! I tried to save him, but three of them pounced on me and beat me mercilessly! They said...they said if I moved, they would gut me then and there and feast on my entrails, then dance and fornicate in my blood!"

"I never did trust their type," another said, nodding to his companion. "To think they would resort to such depravity in the name of the false goddess! We are doing this land a favor by ending her corrupt reign!"

Gilias had to hide a smile -- it was like fooling children.

Back at the edge of the tree line, Victus was ready to make his move. Gilias was now surrounded by cloaked ponies and, while he couldn't make out her words over the rain, she seemed to have things under control for the time being. He lifted a foreleg and signaled that he was about to move, then slowly stood up from his position and took cover behind a tree. He was fairly certain he couldn't be seen, and with his gladius at his side he made a short gallop to a rotten tree stump and threw himself against the ground. A quick look to either side, and his look-outs gave him a status check; no activity to the right, but Rockfall stamped his hoof against the ground twice -- there was a pair of cultists somewhere to the western side of the camp. Victus would have to be more cautious.

Less than a hundred yards ahead a small collection of tents dotted the border of the camp. Behind them, a much larger tent, topped with golden decorations, stood out against the others. Thin, black smoke billowed from a hole at the top, likely from a stove of some kind. If there was anything of value to be found, Victus figured, it would be found there.

"--And so I come to you, brothers and sisters, in my time of need. For far too long have I believed the lies spread by the rancid, corrupting words of Celestia! I ask that you embrace me, as you have embraced the cold, loving grasp of Nightmare Loon. MOON! Nightmare Moon."

So far, so good. Mostly. By now Gilias had attracted most of the camp to her side, playing up her muddy, down-trodden, rain-soaked appearance for all it was worth. Somewhere on the opposite side of the camp the pegasus would be making his move. She hoped he knew what he was doing.

"You poor thing," a mare said somewhere in the crowd. They murmured and talked to each other, eating her story right up. Gilias collapsed to the ground, coughing dramatically and clutching her stomach.

"Please...some water..."

"Sister Bluebell, quickly!" A pony shouted. Rapid hoof-falls squelched in the mud as someone trotted away, only to return a few seconds later. A flask was passed from pony to pony, until a unicorn lifted his hood and levitated the water with blue-green magic. He had shaved his mane, leaving only bare skin that stood out in sharp contrast to the dark blue of his coat.

"Drink, griffon, and be restored."

Gilias was in no hurry to actually gulp down anything handed to her by a bunch of darkness-worshiping lunatics. When the water met her beak she grabbed the flask tightly and squeezed as hard as she could. A burst of water spilled down her face, close enough to fool any observer. Hopefully. When she collapsed to the ground again the crowd's noise rose to a din of shouts and pleas.

"Save her!" someone pleaded. "She is one of us!"

"She must have vengeance!"

"Let her feel the love of our Goddess!"

Gilias wanted to chance a look in Victus' direction, but knew she could not. She could only hope he was quick.

The first group of tents was thankfully empty, an unorganized mess of pots and pans, sleeping rolls and personal effects. For a group of supposedly organized fanatics, they were unusually messy.

Rain continued to patter down on the canvas tops and sides, and they billowed gently in the wind that swept in from the east. The gathered voices around Gilias were louder now, some of them audible. For what it was worth, they were fully entranced by her performance.

A short sprint put Victus against the side of the large, steeple-topped, rectangular tent that seemed to be the most important structure in the camp. He pressed himself closer to listen for any noise, finding none, but he knew the noise of the rain would likely block out any low conversations or sounds of hoof steps. Once more he looked to his fellow legionaries, who had moved up as he advanced. Right side, still all clear. Left side, two missing.

"Great," he muttered. Unaccounted for cultists were not likely to be good for his health. Carefully he pulled his gladius from its scabbard, then slowly and quietly cut a vertical line down the middle of the tent just big enough to fit through. The newly-formed flaps whipped in a gust of wind, and Victus ducked inside with his weapon at the ready. A quick scan revealed no figures, pony or otherwise. Instead, he was greeted by dozens of burning candles that cast their flickering glow on the dark interior. To his right, at the entrance, a trail of them marked a path between effigies of carved wood and rough, shaped bronze. The candles curved in and out, over and over, like a wax serpent. All around were offerings of food and drink, countless gemstones and coins of silver and gold. A place of worship and reverence, if ever there was one.

At the end of the tent, to Victus' far left, a shrine had been set up to honor their goddess, Nightmare Moon. The thought of someone worshiping Princess Celestia's corrupted sister made his skin crawl, a feeling that was only made worse by the bits and pieces of bloodied armor, severed horns and torn wings that formed a grotesque altar to a crude, circular stone that had been made to mimic the new moon.

Victus trotted over, carefully, not wanting to disturb anything that might make enough noise to give him away. He picked up the stone between his hooves and turned it around, knocking on it to make sure it wasn't hollow. It was heavy and rough, but did not seem unusual. Small gifts sat upon a trio of short pillars, and after a moment a single item caught his eye.

Surrounded by dark-colored flower petals and small wreaths of pine branches, a pendant sat by itself on the center-most pillar. It was not particularly large, perhaps as large around as his hoof, and it showed a stylized image of a deer and a pony in a circle, as if endlessly chasing one another. Whatever it was, it seemed to be important. Victus opened a pouch on his sword belt and swept the pendant, along with a few other small items, into it before securing it shut once more. Satisfied, he continued his search of the area, taking care to step over a small row of candles -- and inadvertently kicking an unseen piece of armor nearly half way across the tent. It clattered loudly and clanged into a stone plinth. His heart racing, he stood in place and listened with absolute concentration, his ears swiveling in all directions for any hint that he had been found out.

He heard the dagger before he saw it, an almost imperceptible fwip as it shot past his head. It buried itself in the canvas behind him and tore a gash that let in the rain. And then they were upon him.

Amidst the commotion of the gathered cultists, a single voice stood out, loud and powerful.

"Easy, my brothers and sisters. We shall take care of the griffon woman, I ask only for some space."

The crowd stepped back several paces, finally giving Gilias enough room to think. She looked up at the new figure now standing before her, a stout earth pony with strong legs and a close-cut mane of grey and silver. For a moment he studied her, looking her up and down with a questioning eye. Then he stuck out a hoof, and Gilias grabbed it and pulled herself back up.

"Welcome, sister," the big earth pony said in a voice full of stones. "I hear you are seeking refuge from the worshipers of the false Goddess."

Gilias wiped her mouth with her claw and nodded.

"Yes, I am. I had heard there were followers of Nightmare Moon -- the one, true Goddess -- in these woods. For two days I wandered through the mud and the rain, narrowly avoiding death at every turn, until finally I found you. Truly I am blessed to be alive."

Shouts of "Praise Nightmare Moon!" and "Glory to the Goddess!" sprung up around her.

"So it would seem. Tell me, griffon, what is your name?"

"Ginian, brother," Gilias replied with a bow of her head.

"Ginian. From where do you hail, Ginian?"

This one seemed to be more intelligent than the others. Fitting for a leader, she thought.

"A small village called Corinia, near the Whitetail border. Have you heard of it?"

Of course he wouldn't -- she'd made it up.

"No, I have not. Equestria is a vast place, however. You are a farmer?"

"I am."

"What do you grow, farmer?"

Just shut up and show me around already.

"Oh, you know," she said, shrugging. "Cotton, wheat, snap apples, that sort of thing. I'm a third generation farmer."

"I see. Good crops, all."

Gilias managed a half-smile, though the side of her face stung from the action.

"Right, thanks. Farming is, uh...good livin'. So...what's your name, brother?"

The earth pony, who clearly thought highly of himself, lifted a foreleg to the skies to emphasize his own grandeur.

"I am Validus Corinthius Ignacio Formalus the Third, servant of the one, true Goddess, Nightmare Moon, and enemy of all who would oppose Her glory."

Yep, definitely thought highly of himself.

"Well, Sir Validus, um, Corinthial Ignamus Formalwear, I am pleased to make your acquaintance." She cringed at her pronunciation of his name.

Smooth.

"Do not worry yourself with such trivialities," he said with a deep, barking laugh. "I am simply 'Brother Validus' to all who call this place home. I must admit, Sister Ginian, I am deeply moved by your tale of loss and sorrow. Your faithful pet, destroyed like a play thing. Your loving father, hung for all to see. Truly the Equestrians who follow Celestia are wicked. On that, you will find no quarrel with us."

"Thank you."

Validus stomped a hoof on the ground.

"Except..."

Uh-oh.

"Except...there is one, little thing I could use some...clarification on."

"Yes?"

"You see, Sister Ginian, I, too, am a farmer. Was a farmer. Many leagues east of here is the town of Crup Caverns which, despite its name, is not actually located in a cavern." He chuckled at his own joke. "Up until several months ago, when I was made to see the light in the darkness, I tended the fields with my uncle and two cousins. We grew all sorts of things -- fruits, grasses for hay, stalked plants of all kinds -- but there was one plant in particular I was fond of: cotton."

"You don't say? Then we have similar interests."

"Indeed. The problem, my griffon friend, is that cotton is a very particular plant. It requires a certain amount of moisture and a certain climate. That's why the eastern lands of Equestria are ideal. One place that cotton will not grow, however, is in the western expanses. If it could, the Whitetail would not receive much of their supply from trade with Equestria."

Shit. She had to think fast.

"Normally I would agree with you, but our crop is special; it is infused with zebra magic, blessed by their elders."

Validus was clearly becoming more suspicious. He took a step forward and looked her over, then ran a hoof across her side.

"We, uh...we aren't that familiar just yet, Brother Validus. I would ask--"

"No," he interrupted her,"it is I who am asking the questions."

Hurry the fuck up, Victus.

"I believe I have asked you much already, but there is one thing I have not mentioned just yet, griffon."

"What would that be?"

He pulled his hoof away from her side, clearing a long trail of wet mud and exposing the plumage underneath.

"What sort of farmer has battle scars?"

Shit!

"Uhh...I was a mercenary once. Back before--"

"Who did you fight?"

"The Zevran tribal la--"

"When did you fight them?"

"A long time ago, about--"

"Equestria has never had a conflict with the Zevran nation or its people, certainly not within your lifetime. The Griffon Empire, however..."

"I-I moved to Equestria. To farm."

"But you just said you were a third generation farmer, which would imply you've been in Equestria your entire life."

"Uhmm..."

The attitude of the crowd had changed completely. They were closing in on her, slowly growing more weary of her false tales. Validus lifted a foreleg, revealing the pommel of a sword under his cloak.

"Why are you here, griffon? Answer me! Who sent you?!"

Things were about to turn very bad, and quickly. Surrounded by cultists, under the watchful eye of their leader, and with no way to be sure of Victus' situation, Gilias did the only thing she could think of.

"Fuck it."

With lightning speed she dove for Validus, flashing her sharpened talons and digging them into his shoulders as the force of her impact rolled them both end over end. They skidded to a stop in the rain-wet mud, the onlookers momentarily in shock. Then, with as much strength as she could muster, she latched her beak onto the base of his neck and bit down. Hard. A spurt of warm, red blood sprayed her face as she tore through his jugular vein.

For a few, scant seconds there was silence. No one moved. Validus clutched at this throat, gasping in panicked breaths that soon turned into wet gurgles of blood and rain.

A distinctive sound came from somewhere behind her, the clashing of steel on steel. Victus. It had to be.

With a powerful flap of her wings she took to the air, leaving behind the gathered ponies who quickly turned to a vengeful mob out for her blood, but her wings were heavy with rain and sticky with mud. Sprays of debris fell from her with every attempt to stay in the air, but it was too much. With every bit of effort in her body she pointed herself at the sound of battle, the large tent that she was sure was her only chance of escaping.

Victus jumped back, the short blade of a dagger narrowly missing his throat. Two cultists lashed out again, their movements sharp but increasingly frustrated. One of them turned around and bucked with his hind legs, leaving a dent in the the heavy stone pillar and knocking it on its side. Victus took the opportunity to deliver a sideways stab into the stallion's flank, his gladius plunging through the anvil-shaped destiny mark, tearing muscle and drawing a stream of blood as he withdrew it. The cultist fell to the ground with a shout, but his partner was fast. A unicorn mare, muted pink in color, shot out a dagger at Victus. It buried itself in his shoulder with a burning lash of pain, and he stumbled back against the tent wall with a grunt. A second blade, aimed at his neck, was deflected by a quick slash. The dagger clattered to the ground but was immediately picked back up in a shimmering field of purple magic. For having such a petite frame, he thought grimly, the mare before him was surprisingly practical in combat. She hadn't relied on any showy moves or spouted any religious rhetoric, instead solely focusing on her target with a murderous determination.

The tent glowed purple as she yanked the second dagger from his shoulder, drawing it up as she pulled. Victus felt his left foreleg give out. Immediately he was set upon by the previously injured stallion, who was trying mightily to cave his skull in with powerful hoof stomps. Victus lifted a knee and smashed it into the stallion's testicles as hard as he could, again and again, until his opponent collapsed in pain. He bit down on the handle of his gladius and shoved it as far as he could into the stallion's chest, then kicked his body to the side. A long, narrow blade tore across his cheek; the unicorn mare was already trying to finish him off.

Just then, as a second dagger flashed toward him, the side of the tent exploded open.

Gilias had landed in a heap, the sheer weight of her body tearing a hole through the canvas. She tumbled and rolled, spraying the inside of the tent with water and knocking over countless candles and piles of flowers. It took a moment to get her bearings. Opposite her, against the wall, a bloodied Victus looked in with wide eyes. A dead stallion lay at his side. To his left, an attractive unicorn mare levitated a pair of crimson-slicked daggers. She was staring with her mouth agape, unsure of what to make of the griffon that had smashed through the tent.

"Victus!" Gilias shouted, pulling herself to her feet and scrambling to get traction with her claws.

The sound of the mob was rapidly approaching. It didn't take long for the mare to realize whose side the griffon was on. She focused on Gilias and shot both of her daggers out, sending one flying harmlessly through the trailing feathers of Gilias' left wing and the other just a bit too high, but she corrected and pulled them back to her side.

"Gilias, catch!" Victus tossed the sword to her, and Gilias reached out to grasp it in her claws -- only to have it intercepted in mid-air by a blisteringly fast dagger. Both blades carried on to the back corner of the tent and clattered to the ground. Before Gilias could react a stabbing pain radiated out from her thigh. The unicorn was now galloping at Gilias at full speed, her horn flashing with magic as she drove her weapon of choice deeper. Enraged by the pain coursing through her, Gilias pushed herself off with her powerful hind legs and tackled the mare to the ground. They struggled with one another, neither able to get the advantage.

"Skraw'kan, Equestrian!" Gilias shouted. She slammed her skull into the mare's in a fierce headbutt. Dazed, but still in control, she grabbed hold of her attacker's face and delivered pounding blows of her fists to the side of the mare's head, then slammed it into the ground with all of her strength until the unicorn's horn no longer glowed with magic.

"Gilias! Gilias, we have to go!" Victus hobbled to her side, still clutching his gladius. Blood seeped from his shoulder and stained his powder-darkened coat. His voice snapped her out of her trance, and she turned to look at him with tired but firm eyes.

"Right. Did...did you get what you came for?" She yanked the dagger from her thigh, swearing loudly and tossing it aside.

"I think so. Come on, the others will have seen your duress. Pray they get to us before the cultists do."

The sky flashed and thunder rumbled as they left the large tent, briefly illuminating four figures galloping toward them. One of them shouted to Victus.

"We must make haste, Decanus! There are more cultists than I care to think about, and they are all very eager to catch you!"

"So I noticed, Sertis! Fall in at my side, I am wounded!"

"He has a real talent for understatement," Gilias remarked.

Sertis did as he was ordered, supporting Victus on his shoulder. He grimaced at the torn wound left by the dagger.

"Gods, what happened in there?"

"I'll tell you when we are not in imminent danger of being ripped apart!"

Within seconds the others were at his side with their weapons drawn, the sound of the massed cultists building to a roar that had to be shouted over to be heard.

"I should have acted sooner," Chiron said, "this is my fault!"

"You can beat yourself up over it after we've escaped with our lives!" Victus gritted his teeth against the pain and turned to Steelspark. "Did you manage to get a count of their number?"

"For what it's worth, yes!" he answered between labored breaths. "At least forty, perhaps fifty! Mostly ponies, with the odd zebra mixed in!"

"Anything that could chase us?"

"I can't be sure, their cloaks were--"

A splash of water and mud marked the sudden arrival of a cultist, a small axe clutched in his mouth, as he sent Steelspark sprawling. Powerful wing flaps kept the attacking pegasus steady, and he barreled into Chiron with the head of his axe crossing low. Chiron dodged the deadly weapon and reared up, letting the momentum of the pegasus' swing carry him down into the mud. With a swift stomp the ground mixed with a stream of red, and the pegasus was no more. Precious seconds passed as the legionaries regrouped. Hastily tossed blades rained down around them, digging into the earth with wet squelches and muddy thwacks.

"Get to the trees! It's our only chance!"

A large conifer loomed ahead, and they quickly took cover behind it. Several spears dug themselves into the thick bark as Victus took a brief moment to catch his breath.

"Blades out, legionaries! Split attack on my mark!"

The mass of cultists moved ever closer, shouting and swearing in their drive for the blood of those who had wronged them.

"Hold! Hoooold!"

The first of the cloaked forms came into view, and he saw what was waiting for him.

"Now!"

As one the legionaries attacked in a three-tiered vertical formation; Victus and Gilias took to the air and dove for the rear-most fanatics, while Steelspark and Chiron threw themselves bodily into the front of the mob with their blades stabbing forward. As they made their move, Rockfall and Sertis used their magic to yank spears and daggers from their foes' grasp, turning them around in mid-air before plunging them back into their owners. A furious counter-attack, the epitome of violence of action -- a maneuver of Gilias' sharpened skills and battle-honed mind.

Almost immediately the mob of Nightmare Moon worshipers began to break, shocked and horrified by the bloodshed wrought upon them in such a short time. Many of them turned to run, their spirits broken. Some even succeeded in making it. But not many.

Less than a minute had passed. Victus stood alongside his soldiers, his mouth red with blood that had run down from the blade of his gladius, his breathing heavy. They had slaughtered nearly two dozen without loss of their own. Against overwhelming odds, they had succeeded. Relieved, satisfied, and proud of his stallions, Victus dropped his weapon into the mud.

"Well done, brothers."

Only then did he allow himself to collapse.