Everyday Life With Guardsmares
Chapter 102
Previous Chapter Next ChapterHonour Bound
‘This certainly is different.’
The first time Corporal Honour Bound went down to the Rookery, it almost felt like she was sneaking around. Aside from being accosted by a few guards in the cave full of stalagmites and stalactites, almost everypony had been asleep. The second time had felt quiet as well, arriving early in the evening with the Royal Engineer in his dress suit while most of the batponies were just barely waking up. His conversation with the Rookery's metalworkers had gone on for so long that the streets were quiet again by the time they’d left, as well.
But now, having passed the Royal Undermountain Constabulary's orchard gatepost at almost the stroke of midnight, it was like walking into a completely different world. And Honour understood perfectly why Sergeant Ebonshield had arranged for that first visit completely outside the normal waking hours of the batponies, and the second one skirting the edge.
There were, quite simply, batponies everywhere.
In the 'Cave of Pillars,' that strange hall full of what Honour’s VIP had said were natural hexagonal rock formations, there was a small lineup of the leather-winged creatures gathering water from the underground river, all flapping about and chattering to each other amiably. Of course, that chattering ceased the second that Ebonshield had put her hooves down on the small iron bridge leading into the Rookery, and the fluttering ponies dropped like stones to the ground to bow at her passing. The sergeant, for her part, had walked past them as if they simply didn't exist, and so had the rest of the group.
The way Ebonshield had explained it before was that class differences among the 'Children of the Stars' were extremely sharp, and all must bow in respect to a member of a higher 'phase.' Which had included all of them on that first visit, when the Reverend Mother Superior arrived to interrupt the training to welcome Anonymous, and to sternly admonish the sergeant herself. Of course, it only came out later that those words might not have just been between a member of a higher 'phase' and a lower one, but also between a disapproving mother and her disobedient daughter.
That was a pretty hefty omission on the part of the corporal’s batpony sergeant.
As was the fact that she was no ordinary soldier! The black-cloaked, forty-three-year-old batpony presently leading them towards the main 'marketplace' section of the Rookery was, in fact, the number-two ranked batpony assassin.
‘How many other secrets is she hiding?’
‘And how many other secrets is the Rookery hiding, as well?’
Honour looked behind her at Glamerspear, who had been apprehensive about once again meeting the batpony sorcerer, Ignacio Blazon. The existence of nocturnal bat-winged ponies was something of an open secret among the guards in Canterlot Palace, with the infamous Don't-Ask-Don't-Tell rule only leading to an abundance of rumors and speculation. But most of those same rumors -- besides idiotic 'shoe ideas about blood-sucking supernatural creatures -- speculated that the batponies were little more than just pegasi of the night. The idea that any of them had any kind of actual sorcerous powers was a real shock, and of Honour’s group, nopony had been more shocked to find out than the chief rumor-monger herself, Specialist Glamerspear.
It was almost worrying the way she’d said she couldn't understand how he accomplished summoning those shadowy sand enemies for Ebonshield to fight.
Worrying, too, was how Glamerspear mentioned that even the healing spell Ignacio used on the injured sergeant was impressive in its own right. Ebonshield claimed that the batpony mages were outclassed by unicorns, and in fact knew that they were outclassed, but Honour still had to wonder -- if the 'Children of the Stars' had not just martial power but magical backup as well, how had they failed to take the Watchtower? Was it simply a stubborn defense which went on so long that when Nightmare Moon was herself defeated, the attacking batponies simply gave up? Since Sergeant Ebonshield knew about the Watchtower being under the command of Major General Hoofstrong during that Nightmare Night, maybe it's something the corporal could ask her about later. For now, the Rookery's marketplace had her full attention.
In contrast to the shuttered windows, folded-down awnings, and near-empty streets of before, tonight there was a vibrant, colourful, noisy scene before them. Hundreds of batponies in civilian dress walked or flew around the great domed cavern, stopping at stalls that displayed all manner of wares. From one simple wooden shack up ahead labelled 'Herrero,’ Honour heard the working of a bellows and the banging of hammers on metal. Passing by, she glanced through the window, and saw rows of shining metal items on angled display tables -- horseshoes on pegs, nails in boxes, hinges piled up, and all manner of tools, from axes and picks to knives and spears.
‘Ah, so it's a blacksmith's shop.’
The smell of smoke and flame wafted out as well.
Wait -- if there was a smelter and a forge down here, not to mention fires for cooking or other uses, how did they avoid the cavern filling with smoke? Honour glanced up, but even with the reasonable amount of lighting illuminating the marketplace, she couldn’t make out any details in the cavern ceiling. Except maybe the ventilation wasn’t in the ceiling at all; as she passed by the shop and entered an open square, she felt a steady, soft breeze coming from her left. Some kind of forced ventilation, maybe like the gadget powering the pools and hot tubs in the Spa Dalecarlia? She supposed it doesn't really matter -- the batponies had been living under here for almost two years; If they were going to choke on their own smoke, they'd have done so already.
Glancing around, Honour saw that the bowing had hardly let up. Everypony in a fifty-hoof radius who caught even a glimpse of the sergeant stopped whatever they were doing and bowed their head, though they kept their eyes on her. And then on the rest of them as well, staying bowed as Honour walked along behind her.
‘Hmmm…’
To the corporal’s right, she heard Anonymous clear his throat. "Sergeant, I get the sense that tonight these people seem to be bowing not just to you, but to me as well, or to our whole group."
The batpony assassin turned her hooded head sideways, allowing Honour to see her mouth and only a sliver of her eye. "The Great Lord is most perceptive. Yes, they bow to all of us now. By the proclamation of the Reverend Mother Superior, all of your quaternion are to be treated as full members of the Star Phase, and you yourself a member of the Lunar Phase."
Facing forward again, her hood bobbed too and fro as she glanced both ways down an intersection, then led them straight through. "Therefore, the Great Lord need no longer bow to anypony here in the Rookery, save the Reverend Mother herself."
‘Huh.’
‘Good to know.’
And that certainly explained the extended bowing -- something Honour herself was wondering about as well. It felt a bit one-sided, though. Even during Day Court, Princess Celestia acknowledged bows from Equestrian citizens with polite nods of her own.
Their VIP seemed to still have questions about the practice, as well. "Am I supposed to do anything in return, Sergeant? Nod or wave?"
At this, Ebonshield brought their small marching column to a halt, and turned fully to face her VIP and Corporal Bound, with Glamerspear and Sparkshower peeking around from the rear.
The Sergeant gave a small bow of her own, acknowledging her VIP's elevated status. "If the Great Lord wishes, he may nod in return. Most of the Children here in the marketplace are of the Rock or Dust phase, and therefore such a reply would be an unusual honor. I suggest that it be reserved for the individuals of distinction, or with whom there is already a relationship particular."
Anonymous gave a brief nod back. "I understand. Let's carry on."
‘So, the batponies aren't really so dissimilar from the ponies of Equestria after all…’
They were just a little stricter about some things than the Equestrians were. Or a lot stricter, in some cases.
The Sergeant led them on, and besides the four of the non-batponies looking around at every sight, listening to every sound, and sniffing at every smell, nothing of particular note occured. If anything, the constant bowing made it impossible to get a sense of the place or to try to pick up on the batpony language -- all activity and conversation ceased when they passed by.
Honour was sure she’d spotted somepony haggling with a merchant in front of a selection of ceramic wares, and she was almost eager to try to pick out the words they used -- there was something about a 'burro,' and she caught 'ka-brone' being said repeatedly, before the buyer and seller stopped what they were doing when they caught a glimpse of Ebonshield's black cloak.
Which brought up another point -- for all the association with the night-time and darkness that the batponies had in Honour’s mind, there was an awful lot of colour down here. Where the Reverend Mother Superior and her entourage were dressed in all white, from their tall pointed hoods to the caparisons that extended down past their hooves, and Sergeant Ebonshield and her star-phase warrior kin seemed to dress exclusively in black, open-faced hooded cloaks, the ordinary batponies around them had no such fashion rules. Instead, matching the brightly-painted stalls and dazzlingly-patterned awnings, the batpony civilians were dressed in all manner of colors, from scarlet-red, to earthy brown, golden-yellow and navy-blue. Even when a pony was wearing something predominantly white or black, it was always accented with another color. Although, perhaps that was as much to avoid confusion as anything else.
And what was also surprising was the amount of clothing they wore, too. The average market square in Fillydelphia saw merchants in colorful hats, maybe, while longshorepones favored heavy coats as protection against the wind and the spray of water, to say nothing of the rain, but for the most part, Equestrians didn't dress up much unless it was a special occasion or they were particularly well-to-do. After all, nopony wanted to sweat doubly from their clothes as from their labors. Meanwhile, here were hundreds of batponies wearing colorful, elaborate costumes that wouldn't look out of place at a smaller village's Maypole festival.
An older mare to Honour’s left gave a broad bow and curtsy in a red dress, and she saw three layers of fancy white ruffles around her legs. Maybe she was somepony big herself -- or married to somepony big, at least. Either way, it put what passed for market-day dress upstairs to shame.
And it emphasizes just how narrow of a view Honour’d had of the batponies on her first visit.
Her second visit, she might've picked up on some more, if she hadn't been quite so bored and exhausted. For an ordinarily quiet colt, the Royal Engineer sure could talk up a storm when he wanted to...
There was still something bugging the corporal, though. As they exited the marketplace and entered the far emptier corridors which she assumed to be the residences of the 'Star Phase' warriors of the batponies -- most of whom would now be on night duty topside -- Honour cleared her throat.
"Sergeant, why didn't you mention the Reverend Mother's proclamation earlier?"
Once again, Ebonshield kept walking as she answered her. "Such an elevation carries only as much weight as the individuals may respect it, Corporal. I wished for the Great Lord and for the rest of you to continue to treat the soldiers down here with great caution. This is true that the Rocks and Dust do bow, of course, but I think that any Stars whom we encounter will not be so accommodating."
"That sounds dangerous."
"Indeed. With this proclamation, visiting the Rookery, while free from petty hassles at the border, is perhaps more dangerous than before."
Anonymous piped up beside Honour. "Are we likely to encounter many Stars at this time of day? Aren't they all on the surface, guarding the Palace?"
"Most of them, yes, Great Lord. But there are still enough Stars in the Rookery to cause trouble if they should so wish. And I doubt that the Grand Hall will be unoccupied completely..." She trailed off as they rounded the final corner.
Ahead of them stretched the final, long corridor with its rows of sleeping cubicles going down its length, and at the end, the batpony emblem -- an upwards-facing crescent moon, just like the one on Princess Luna, with seven small eight-pointed stars beneath, and a single larger star above in the shadow of the surface.
This time, there's no soft drone of snoring coming from the small curtained chambers -- it was eerily quiet. But there was some noise, emanating from the end of the hall...
Behind the corporal, Sparkshower piped up in a whisper. "I hear drums! And something else -- castanets, I think? Somepony's playing music up ahead!"
As Honour got closer to the Grand Hall, she could make it out as well.
Recommended background music: Gregory Alper & Jeehun Hwang - 'Kill or Be Killed / Golden Spade', from 'Mechwarrior 2' [1995]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PAQxocc8BMc
As she passed to the right of the batpony logo and entered into the Grand Hall proper, an alien scene awaited her. There were dozens of batponies gathered around the inner edge of the gallery, looking down on the sandpit.
And it's what was down there that was truly surprising.
Two batponies, in their black cloaks and leathers, danced in the air some distance away from each other in the circular pit, brandishing steel-tipped long spears that crossed in the center. The rest of the quaternion entered the Grand Hall behind the corporal, and there was a sudden flash of excitement from the sandpit.
"KI-YAAH!"
"RYAAAAH!"
cling-a-cling-a-cling-CLANG!
Faster than Honour’s eye could quite follow, the two batponies screeched and then clashed excitedly with their weapons. But after a moment or two they both retreated back to a guarded stance, each one toying with their weapon and testing it against the other.
SkrrtttCHhh
And they were using real weapons, too, because she could hear the metal blades scrape against each other.
What a strange way to fight, and a dangerous way to train -- if it even was training...
Instead of descending straight into the pit, this time Ebonshield led them around the outer edge, apparently heading to one of the open and unoccupied areas in the raised gallery.
Some things in the room were familiar, at least. Tonino and the other musicians were still dressed in their colorful clothes and seated in what must be their usual spot, next to Ignacio's little pulpit, though they had different instruments out. And the cranky old batpony sorcerer himself was there, too, though he sat in silence, wearing his black, blindfold-mask with its distinctive red fringe. Curiously, he appeared as much as anypony to be intently watching the scene with his blind eyes.
As they approached the edge and Honour got a better look at the fight going on down below, a few of the other spectators turned to notice their arrival. She didn't hear any whispers or murmurs when they turned around again, but from the expressions they shot her, she could tell that her group's arrival had already caused a stir.
Ebonshield came to a halt at the edge, and turned to wave them all forward with one forehoof. There was enough space for them all to spread out -- Sparkshower on the left, then Honour, then Anonymous, followed by Ebonshield, and finally Glamerspear. All of them were seated except for Anonymous, who wasn’t really built to sit on his haunches. Instead, he stood quietly, his 'twenty-blows-mace' head-down on the floor, and his hands resting on top of the handle.
The batpony Sergeant put one hoof up to her muzzle and looked both ways, being sure to make eye contact with everypony. She didn’t need to say anything to make it clear that they were all supposed to keep quiet.
Down in the sandpit, the combat continued.
"RYAAH!"
"KIIIYAAAAAAAH!"
clang-clang-skrrrrtch-clang-THWACK!
It was truly unlike anything Honour had seen in the Royal Guard. Equestrian Royal Guardsponies drilled to fight in teams, or at least in pairs. On the ground, earth ponies would assemble into lines or squares to dominate the battlefield. Up in the air, pegasi would fly in wedge formations before breaking up into furious tail-to-muzzle pursuits. Even all-unicorn platoons used formations to make it clear who was supposed to be casting what.
But this solo one-on-one, floating in the air, testing the enemy, then sudden lunging and striking with blinding speed were totally unlike Royal Guard training. In fact, it resembled, more than anything, a kind of duel.
skrrtch-clink
Again, the two batponies flapped around slowly in circles, testing their spears against each other, occasionally lightly batting their opponent's blade away.
And then, in the blink of an eye, the furious assault began again.
"HYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHH!"
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"
clink-a-clink-a-clank-a-thock-a-clink-a-shrrkt-a-SKRUTCH!
"HuuurGHHHaaa!"
Their entire section gasped as one black-clad batpony drove their spear home, piercing the other one's shoulder, causing the victim to drop their spear, and spattering the sand with red blood.
On the other side of the gallery, one of the cloaked figures shouted down.
"¡Alto!"
The music stopped, and so did the fight.
To the approving stomp of dozens of audience hooves, the victorious competitor bowed first to the apparent master of ceremonies, then to the musicians, and finally to the rest of the audience.
On the other side of the corporal, Glamerspear piped up. "Those were real weapons? And now what, are they just going to let the loser bleed out on the sand?"
Ebonshield's answer came in a sharp whisper, staying strategically quieter than the applause. "Yes, we often train with real weapons. And no, Ignacio will see to the wounded shortly, once their Master asks it."
The clopping noise died down, to be replaced with murmurs in a language Honour didn't understand.
In his little raised box, Ignacio shifted on his hooves, possibly waiting for a signal, while the losing batpony shivered in agony on the sandpit floor.
"¡Silencio!"
The same cloaked figure on the far side of the gallery put an end to the muttering, and then the colt threw back his hood and pointed an angry old hoof towards Honour’s group.
"... Hhwhat ees de meaning of this intrrusion? Estelar Siete Pureza Ébanoscudo, the Grrrand Hall of Starrrs ees a place suitable only for the Childrren of the League of Stars..."
That same hoof slashed sideways dismissively. "...Not for theese... surrface-born Prisioneros de la Sol."
‘Prisoners... of the sun?’
Honour recalled Sparkshower mentioning something about that being a batpony insult. 'Surface-born' was probably another one. On the moon, batponies must be born exclusively underground.
Ebonshield looked about ready to reply, when another voice called out from one of the closer sections. "Oyé, do not prretend that jou forget already the proclamation, Alfonso."
Alfonso, the Master of the combat that had just come to a brutal end, cried back. "Ay forrget nothing, Ramon. Eet is hwee who habe forrgotten what eet means to be the Childrren of the Grreat League of Starrs!"
Ramon snorted. "¡Oscuridad! Jou cerrtainly habe forrgotten about jour soldier in the sandpit, cabrón. Forr how long will jou harangue us with jour retórica while her insides spill out onto the sand?"
That got chuckles from around the audience, although Ebonshield stayed silent. Alfonso grumbled, but ultimately refrained from replying, and instead turned towards Ignacio in his pulpit, cupping his forehooves together in reverence -- but keeping his head held high.
"Een the name of the Moon, Balladero de Phantasmas, will jou bless the Starrs with jour probidence and restore our fallen Champion, that she may live to fight ourr enemies once more?"
Ignacio nodded his head, and Honour heard his familiar voice echo through the chamber. "¡Sí, and it is past time! Any longer, and it is for the Shadows we should have to send, instead."
There was a look of relief on the face of the injured combatant, though her neck was covered with sweat-foam, and the tip of her opponent's long spear was still stuck deep in her shoulder, the wound weeping blood. Honour heard the scraping of metal on metal as Sparkshower turned her head away, having trouble bearing the gruesome sight.
But then Ignacio picked up his oboe-like instrument and put it to his lips, bringing a strange melody to a room that is utterly silent but for the strained panting of the losing fighter. It was an eerie tune, and it was pointedly not what he sang to heal Ebonshield. Though in that case, he also had descended into the pit to see to her personally.
After playing for a few moments, he pointed down into the sand-pit. "...Remove the weapon."
The victor flapped slowly up, wrapping their forehooves on the spear, and then gave a sharp tug to pull it out. To her credit, the loser took the ordeal with little more than a muffled grunt.
"Oh, merciful skies..."
Sparkshower was clearly still watching -- and was shocked by what she saw.
Ignacio began to play again, still unaccompanied. Honour squinted, but she couldn’t make out any visible sign of magic on the loser's shoulder. There was no glow, no aura, no noise, nothing.
‘Is he even doing anything at all?’
With the spear removed, the wound must have been bleeding faster than ever. The music stopped, and Honour watched Ignacio lower his instrument.
"Apply the sand."
‘Sand in a wound?’
‘That's no way to treat an injury.’
If anything, the sand would just have to be cleaned out later before the injury would heal properly. Nonetheless, the victorious soldier approached their victim and brushed some sand onto the wound with a hoof. Then, Ignacio began to intone a low, guttural moan -- and this time, Honour did see some signs of magic. The light in the Grand Hall, reasonably bright to begin with for an underground cave, dimmed noticeably, and the poor injured batpony on the sandpit seemed to be swallowed up by the new shadows. As the Balladeer of Ghosts continued his solo note, the darkness passed, and when he warbled the tone with an outstretched hoof, the illumination returned to normal.
And so, too, was the injured batpony, who got to her hooves almost as if nothing had happened. Stepping over to her weapon, she floated into the air and picked it up with her hooves, then turned to face the magician who healed her.
Now silent, Ignacio blindly received her forehooves clasped in thanks. "Thank-you, O Balladeer of Ghosts."
He nodded her towards her master, Alfonso. "Go now, and rrrejoin jour Stars."
Thus dismissed, the two combatants -- winner and loser -- took flight and swooped out of the sand pit into the trench surrounding it, before darting up the closest staircase to head back to their Master.
It seemed strange that they didn't simply fly straight up. Maybe there was an unseen barrier between the gallery and the combat floor.
With the blindfold still covering his useless eyes, Ignacio turned his head to and fro as if surveying the gallery. "...The pit is empty. Eighth of the Ashen Eagles, from among jour group, are there more who shall trrain today?"
Honour heard an angry whinny from Alfonso, the elder batpony. "My Eagles do not trrain een the prresence of unworrthy outsiders."
The students surrounding him emitted murmurs of approval as their Master gathered them to leave, but Ignacio only grumbled. "Well, then, if the Eagles will not fly, perhaps the Vipers shall slither? Eh, Ramon?"
She saw the one who dared challenge Alfonso's outburst turn and confer with his own students.
Ebonshield leaned over and whispered to their group. "That is Master Ramon, Eighth Rank of the Iron Vipers. They fight with blades attached to the hooves, similar in some ways to the style of the Stellar Dance."
Anonymous muttered back. "This 'Ramon' seems to be on our side, as well."
The sergeant shook her head. "No. He is unopposed, at best. But the Iron Vipers and the Ashen Eagles have a famous and long-flying feud. It is a matter of dogma -- whether it is better to fight up close, like a viper, or to soar slowly only to swoop in for the kill, like an eagle."
She nodded towards the group of Vipers. "Watch. He will not do us the honour of bearing witness to our training. He will find some excuse to leave as well."
Anonymous shuffled his feet and bent over slightly. "Do your Stellar Dancers have no friends here in the Rookery?"
Ebonshield sighed. "It is a situation most complicated. As we are not soldiers ordinary, we are not well-liked by the other Stars."
She looked up at their VIP. "Until recently, however, we enjoyed the protection absolute of the Lunars. That protection is now less certain."
Honour felt a lump in her throat. For all the similarities, it really was different down here.
And in a dangerous way, too.
Never mind all of her foalish hangups about moving to Filly' with Castlerook -- down here, there were blood oaths, and duels to the death, and training with lethal weapons, and all sorts of factional politics. The Generals and Admirals upstairs competing for a few extra bits here or there for their pet project, or vying for the MXP Games trophy, were laughably low-stakes by comparison. Only Anonymous' grand project to forever change life in Equestria seemed to be as great in her mind, though it lacked the severe brutality of the life led by Ebonshield and her kin.
Ramon and the rest of the Iron Vipers turned back to face the sand pit, and the Balladeer of Ghosts. "We habe finished our trraining forr today, and shall rretire."
With that, the only other remaining group of batpony soldiers turned and headed for the exit. Leaving her, in short order, all alone with her quaternion, her VIP, the musicians, and the Balladeer of Ghosts in the Grand Hall of Stars.
From his pulpit, Ignacio whinnied. "¡Caramba! What a pack of spineless Shadow-spawned maggots. How happy it makes me to hear the beating of their wings and the clopping of their hooves receding in the distance, like the dissipation of a foul odor."
Ebonshield cleared her throat. "It is good to see you as well, O Balladeer of Ghosts."
Ignacio licked his lips and turned in her direction. "Ahh... And jou are back once again, mi murciélagita? Shall we put on another show for jour Equestrians, hmm?"
She shook her head. "We are here only to spar in the pit -- we should have no need for your music tonight."
The Balladeer grunted dismissively. "¡Hunh! Then I shall rest my voice, for now." Turning, he disappeared behind the curtains that enclosed his pulpit.
Sergeant Ebonshield turned to Honour Bound. "Corporal, I wish for you to take the lead in sparring with the Engineer Royal tonight."
‘What?’
‘She's’ the bucking second-rank assassin, not me!’
‘What am I going to teach him? How to lamely chuck a spear or to weakly buck a target with his hind legs?’
"Me? Sergeant, I don't understand."
From underneath her cloak, the batpony pointed a wing-tip at her. "The Great Lord last time expressed a desire to grapple, and this was with such a maneuver that he eventually won against me."
Anonymous chuckled. "Heh. I still can't believe that worked."
Turning to him, the Sergeant smiled. "I admit that this was to me a move quite original and unexpected."
Then she looked back over at Honour. "...Which is why I wish to study your repertoire of such attacks against the Corporal Bound, that I may devise for you a plan to use them more capably. And as she is a member of the Royal Guard, she will have been well-trained in the art of escaping such holds."
It was true that part of 'shoe camp involved grappling -- with other ponies, and with real and simulated creatures that had claws or hands. But that was years ago. She was going to be rusty as all buck...
Anonymous lowered the shaft of his mace down to lie flat on the ground, then rubbed his hands together and flexed his neck. "I guess I won't be needing this to start. What do you think, Corporal? Ready to get up close and personal in the ring? I'm no professional when it comes to wrestling, but don't hold back just because I'm your VIP. Let's give the sergeant here a good show."
Honour took a deep breath and looked down at the sand pit, then back up at the colt she was sworn to guard with her life.
Well, one thing was for sure: Training exercise or no, she was still going to give him everything she’d got.
"Let's go, sir."
Suggested interlude music: Kenny Loggins - 'Playing with the Boys' [1986], as featured in Top Gun [1986]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4QAsFnzJ-xU
