Celes

Princess Celestia,

Disharmony brews. There have been signs for months, but only now is their meaning clear. Supply lines under heavier guard. Bandit activity low. Nopony asking why. Thundersnow in the mountains. Laughter in the woods. Monsters in the water. This land has always been odd, Your Highness. Of that I do not deny. But in its madness there was always order. Tonight, that order has been disrupted. It may seem small to you at first, probably no more than an amusing happenstance. But it only takes one pluck of the thread to unweave the banner. And I fear what comes

Forgive me, my pen is shaking and already I have exceeded the length of a typical field report. This must all seem like a madpony’s drivel to you. If you have the time to read my words, allow me to explain. I must start from an hour ago, to organize my thoughts, and for you to understand.

By light of dusk, I was tracking a thief through the woods…

The hoofprints were shadowed in a sunny glow, the same that sheathed Stalwart Shield’s horn. It paid to be trained in the arts of arcane espionage, and a tracking spell was incredibly useful for hunting clumsy, stupid thieves.

The hoofprints glowed to life several feet before Stalwart’s path as he followed their rhythm, as though a gold-footed phantom guided the way to his target. Princess Celestia, he prayed, light my way. “Celestia” led him deeper into the wildwood.

Before long, the canopy had thickened to a black shroud that stirred like some great slumbering beast. The air around him was still and cool, yet Stalwart Shield knew the winds were beginning to howl, and as anypony north of the North would know, that meant a storm was on its way. He observed the dim that lay ahead, flanking his every side, grey and quiet. The trees crowded against one another, moss-bearded trunks thick enough to conceal all manner of beasts. With the night rapidly approaching, it was only a matter of time before something truly awful would make itself known. For now though, with what little daylight was on his side, Stalwart was just peachy with being observed from afar.

Trepidation had ruled his step several years ago, with eyes whizzing about in his skull, foolishly trying to catch wind of a would-be predator before it got the drop on him. Of course now he knew that the forest always had the drop on him, that he was constantly being observed from afar.

Stalwart learned long ago that he, an Equestrian, was no longer a master of nature as the rest of his kind back home. Here, he was merely a guest in this wild frontier. Learning and accepting this was paramount. Arrogance that was commonplace in his kind would have rendered even the Princess carrion for the corpse-eaters long ago.

After accepting this, one need only be afraid of the monsters bold enough to outright confront a trotter of the trees. Though in Stalwart Shield’s experience, these monsters were of the variety that prowled on four hooves, and made up in numbers what they lacked for in courage.

His belly writhed and a sweat accumulated beneath Stalwart’s jerkin as he thought of his beloved home. He could not help himself, especially on a day lonely as this. It had been far too long since he touched Equestrian soil, exchanged words with an Equestrian face or felt the Equestrian sun warm his back. The number of princesses had quintupled since Stalwart left. He had yet to meet Princess Celestia’s younger sister, nor the new princess that saved her, or the one that ruled an empire not far from the No Zone and then birthed yet another. Stalwart was unsure if he would ever get to meet them.

Oh, Princess Celestia, bemoaned the Unicorn, what I would give to hear your voice again, to bask in the radiance of your sun…

Stalwart shook his head; such thoughts might as well have been wind, pointless. He set his eyes straight ahead, into the depths of the forest as it began to weep.

Rain again. Stalwart Shield lit his horn, and a pulled a hood over his head.

=======

“Caught the bad guy for ya.”

Stalwart Shield stared at the hoofprints before him, dragging his eyes up their glimmering path where they faded before the body of a violet-coated Earth Pony, swaddled in burlap and secured with a tightly-knotted rope. A strip of cloth wrapped around his lilac-maned head, clenched firmly between his teeth. Purple eyes glared up at Stalwart, glistening in the light of a cookfire heating a pot of what smelled like potato stew.

The speaker, another Earth Pony, and near-three times the size of his captive, grinned at Stalwart with yellow teeth and a scar that scrunched against his cheek when he did. The Equestrian had trouble deciphering by light of the flame if his coat was red, or a deep orange. His mane, though, had been tied back in a ponytail, thick and brown as mud, as was the jerkin that covered his torso. Bracers covered both his forelegs, as was common among non-magical fighters north of Equestria.

“And who might you be?” Stalwart asked. He did not fail to notice a large sword propped against the root of a tree that shaded Lunk’s sparse encampment. “I can see you are well equipped for these woods.”

The commanding tone of his deep, rich voice made the Earth Pony snort like a pig. “It’d be Lunk, Sergeant.” His utterance sounded a coarse whisper.

Pleasant enough, nickname aside. Stalwart aimed to keep it that way. “You did well, Lunk. Though you are probably aware, the thief you have apprehended made off with some—”

Stalwart flinched when the heavy sack was thrown, though it landed right in front of him. A few apples and onions rolled out onto the dirt. He looked back up at Lunk, taken aback by the gift.

His eyes sparkled. “Tell Mz. Kettleblack I says hello, and that we’re sorry.” He thought for a moment, and before Stalwart could get another word in he added, “Actually, I’ll just tell ‘er myself, when we get back to Shady Copse that is.”

Stalwart rose his snout. “Oh?”

“‘Oh,’ indeed.” Lunk pointed a hoof large enough to stomp melons. “You’re going to help me and my chum out with a little problem.”

Stalwart’s eyes fell upon the gagged thief once more, then drifted back to Lunk. Is this his chum? “If it’s money you are after, then the reward is yours, friend.” He kept a friendly disposition, despite the sinister turn Lunk had suddenly taken. “I just want to see this one in chains.”

“This one?” Lunk tilted his head to the gagged pony, whose eyes shifted rapidly between his captor and the unicorn that had happened upon them. Lunk reached a hoof across his jerkin to a knife wide enough to need its own scabbard. It made a long hiss as he drew it out, clutched in the grip of his bracer.

Lunk held up his foreleg, admiring the blade equipped while its surface gleamed as though it were fresh-pulled from a forge. “Nah, he don’t do well in chains. They tried that already, you see.”

Stalwart, even living in this land as long as he has, did not possess the foresight to avert the blade from suddenly lashing out, slicing through the thief’s burlap restraints like butter, and cleaving smoothly through his flesh. He gave a short, sharp grunt in protest before all strength fled his body, and he seemingly sank deeper into the ground, a corpse with one hoof in the grave.

Stalwart closed his mouth before Lunk turned towards him, though he could do nothing to lessen the shock in his widened eyes. He wet his lips. “You should not have killed him,” declared the servant of Equestria and Harmony. Emotion stirred inside him. “You did not need to kill him.” His voice was hard.

Lunk smiled, seeming very amused with the whole scenario. “Actually,” he paused, punctuated by slamming his blade back into its scabbard, “I did.”

He was waiting for Stalwart to respond, who steadily grew in anger as he demanded, “Why?”

“You would not have believed me otherwise, Knight of Princess Celestia.”

Stalwart Shield felt his heart skip a beat. Or ten.

They know…

Driven by a furious adrenaline suddenly pulsing through his figure, Stalwart stomped back and with a single pull of magic ripped his broadsword from its scabbard.

Seven years and I’ve been found, by some wretched vagrant no less.

“Careful now you don’t hurt yourself, Ser.”

“I’m not a knight,” Stalwart admitted, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “But you will not live to tell anypony else.”

“Which is exactly why I’m not going to draw my weapon.” Lunk shrugged his enormous shoulders. “Cut me down, Southerner. My survival, it matters not. We’ll get what we want before the sun is up, I assure you.”

Stalwart drew his head back, the tip of his sword slowly descending. “You will not defend yourself?”

With a ghost of a smile, Lunk shook his head. “I’m not an idiot, and you’re not a Ser. Show us if you’re as honorable as an Equestrian knight, then.”

Stalwart had the grace not to swear; he counted upon this brute being as bloodthirsty as he appeared. Clearly, this mountain of a stallion is smarter than I gave credit for. He did not lunge forward, battle-ready, though his sword remained hovering between himself and the brigand.

“Then we are at an impasse, Mr. Lunk. You will not fight, but I ultimately cannot let you leave here, knowing what you know. Too dangerous, you see, and I have my orders.”

Lunk rose a brow, intrigued. “You would slaughter an unarmed pony?”

“Yes.” Stalwart did not hesitate. “Equestria comes before my honor. That’s understandable, is it not?” Lunk did not reply, he merely stood his ground, looking quite lethargic for a pony with a sword pointed towards them. The fire crackled on, and the leaves above trembled. “So are we to spend the rest of our night locked in an eternal staredown, or is there something to discuss?”

Lunk gave a laugh. “Neither, Equestrian. Rather, you’re going to pen a message to your Sun Goddess. Bring her here. Show her, and she will see what will happen if she doesn’t act now.”

“What will happen?”

There was shuffling to his left. Stalwart looked over, sword following. His eyes grew so wide they were dry and sore before he remembered to blink again.

The stallion whose throat was slit was now shambling about, his joints popping from long underuse as he clawed his hooves through the dirt, emerging slowly from the burlap sack. In the firelight Stalwart saw grooves line the stallion’s body: scars of all kinds, some left by blade, many by fire, with thread weaving through his skin, stitching it poorly together like some patchwork doll. The red smile on his throat opened wide and oddly dry as he bent his head back, flashing Stalwart several dark slits strewn randomly across his breast, telling the story of someone who had been stabbing away in evident desperation.

The stallion reached up with one hoof, a foreleg with stitches around its whole circumference at the elbow, to remove the cloth gagging him. Stalwart’s eyes followed the article as it fell limply to the dirt, dry and bloodless from where the thought-to-be-perished stallion fell.

When he looked up, his gaze was greeted by one of dullness, hope, and a little, tiny flicker of sadistic glee, which reached into the smile he gave as he sincerely replied in a low, posh lilt,

“Everypony will be like me.”

The Mortal Game
Written by TheApexSovereign