Purity Ebonsield

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Sergeant First Class Purity Ebonshield was filled with a great sense of anticipation.

Yes, there was tomorrow the inspection of the battlefield where they would participate in the Equestrian 'Grand Mêlée.' And that was a great privilege, for she would be the first of the Children to participate in this ritual. Before that, there was also of course this weekend the Equestrian Grand Galloping Gala, which also she would be honored to be the first to attend as one of Children.

However, right now what most greatly preoccupied her mind were not those grand events, but the contents of her saddlebags. This was why she had taken the place of the Specialist Sparkshower early; that she may relieve herself of their wonderful burden as soon as possible.

And yet, she reminded herself, there was a certain delight in delaying release.

The Engineer Royal sat at his desk, hunched over a mess of papers, drumming a pencil against his padded blotter. He had held himself in positions similar for almost an hour, pretending to work. Finally, with a sigh, he flicked the pencil out of his hand and leaned back in his chair. He followed with another sigh, and shook his head, before reaching for his glass of water.

‘Bueno.’

‘He is bored or frustrated -- or perhaps even both.’

‘Now is the time to strike.’

"Are those papers for to prepare El Torbellino, The Whirlwind, for the Grand Mêlée, Great Lord?"

She knew with almost certainty that they were not.

Anonymous shook his head. "No, they're for the foundry. I haven't even had time to think about what modifications to make to the Whirlwind. I can imagine improving it an awful lot, but it's a question of time and reliability." Another sigh, and he lifted his eyebrows. "We're going to tour the battle grounds tomorrow with Lieutenant Kilfeather, aren't we? Maybe I ought to put these plans away for the day and refocus on that. I've never fought in a tournament before, after all." He chuckled. "Then again I've never built a foundry, either. Or a smelter; really, it'll be both. And either one of those can be just as deadly as a battle if not designed with safety in mind."

Ebonshield took a step forward. "I presume that the Great Lord is firm in his choice to fight in the Grand Mêlée?"

The Royal Engineer furrowed his brow, putting down his drink. "Choice? What do you mean, choice?"

Taking another step forward, she cocked her head to one side. "Did the Mother-of-Stars and the Mother-of-the-Sun not ask only that El Torbellino be represented in the Grand Mêlée as a test of his worthiness? Surely they did not demand that the prowess in battle of their Engineer Royal be also tested?"

Anonymous sat up in his chair again. "I... suppose that's true. It was phrased as a test of the Whirlwind. And Her Majesty Princess Celestia said that the 'group which beat' last year's champions, Kilfeather and his squad, should take their place." He turned and glanced at his minotaur-made bronze armor. "I didn't actually fight in the 'Pas-de-Sabots' at Newstirrup Bridge, though I did consider it. I suppose I helped without fighting, though, by raising Specialist Sparkshower's spirits before the battle, and calling out the Lieutenant's position for Specialist Glamerspear. From that, one could take it either way whether Her Majesty expects me to participate in the Tournament."

Ebonshield took a few more steps until she was standing at the other side of his desk, and he returned to face her.

"Shouldn't I fight? Maybe I'd be more useful as the vehicle's mechanic, during breaks in the fighting. But then we'd have to find another soldier to make a 'flight' of six again."

The batpony shrugged. "The Great Lord is surrounded by soldiers. Good ones are more difficult to find, yes, but still commonly available. I am certain that the Major General Hoofstrong could provide. One of the pegasi of the Lieutenant Kilfeather, perhaps, or another from the Division of the major general. Or I could volunteer one of the Stellar Dancers. I could even ask a Star from a different Temple; despite their antipathy to the Stellar Dancers and to Equestrians, to fight in such a tournament would be considered a great honor, and most would readily accept, submitting to my leadership. There are many options, and all are choices excellent."

Her VIP lifted an eyebrow, appearing more confused than upset at the suggestion. "Don't you think I should fight? You're the one who's been training me in combat. Are you saying you don't think I'm ready?"

"I do as the Great Lord wishes. But to defend oneself is one thing; to fight battle for sport and glory and honor is another quite different. This fighting requires a certain state of mind, yet I have seen the Great Lord avoid violence and disdain aggression."

Anonymous chuckled, the confusion turning to amusement. "Are you calling me a pacifist? I'm certainly not bloodthirsty, but I don't know if I'd put myself so far on the opposite end of the spectrum. You'd say so too if you saw how deeply some of my people can get into it."

"As you say, I can judge the Great Lord only by what I have seen. I do not know the people of the Great Lord, nor their history."

His expression suddenly turned somber. "No, you don't..."

Placing his elbows on the table, he leaned forward. "I told Their Majesties, I may as well tell you, too."

Unusually stern, the Engineer Royal looked her in the eyes. "I've seen the casualty numbers from Equestria's recent conflicts. The Crystal Empire Crisis. The Changeling invasion. Nightmare Moon's return. Internal troubles, scuffles with minotaurs, dragons, yaks, and others, on and off. At their worst there have been thousands injured, hundreds killed, fortresses wrecked, towns set aflame..." He shook his head. "Maybe I look like a pacifist to you. But you'd look like one too, if you'd come here from a planet with a history of violence orders of magnitude greater than anything Equestria has ever experienced. This world's weapons of war are like children's toys compared to what my people have wrought."

He swept one hand across his desk, casually brushing papers out of the way. "Flying machines each carrying enough explosives to obliterate an army. Land vehicles only a little larger than the Whirlwind, impervious to any lance or cannon Equestria can muster, one or two of which would be enough to effortlessly slaughter this city's defenders before reducing the place to rubble. Even our ordinary foot soldiers carry enough weaponry to potentially kill hundreds of other people so far away they can scarcely be seen with the naked eye."

The Engineer leaned in, his presence suddenly menacing. "We've had wars that engulfed our entire planet. Wars that went on for five, ten, thirty years. Tens of millions dead, hundreds of millions displaced, thousands of cities in ruins. Civilians slaughtered wholesale, or starved to death from deprivation. All while scarcely touching our newest and most terrifying weapons."

The Engineer Royal clenched one hand into a fist, lifting it up high. He lowered it slowly, then snapped his hand open just above the desk. "Colossal bombs that can eradicate a city of millions in the blink of an eye, leaving nothing but flames and ash and scorched earth. And we have thousands of them."

Anonymous paused for emphasis. "...So don't call me a pacifist, Sergeant. I grant that you've personally witnessed more death than me, but you don't know war like my people do."

Ebonshield had expected that the Engineer Royal would tell her his people were indeed capable of violence. She had not quite expected this proclamation intense.

‘Millions killed in the blink of an eye?’

So much destruction was unthinkable; not even the Mother-of-Stars at the height of her power could do such a thing.

His revelations were unsettling, and for a moment, Ebonshield was unable to come up with a reply of her own.

Anonymous looked down at his paperwork, picking up his pencil and fidgeting once more. "I told Their Majesties all this when they first interviewed me almost a year ago. I also swore an oath that I wouldn't bring my people's capacity for destruction here. But I broke that promise when I built the Whirlwind. Princess Celestia rightfully called me out on it after the demonstration on Monday."

‘Ah?’

‘How very curious!’

"What came of that?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, ultimately. I was contrite. I knew I'd broken my promise. But Corporal Bound defended me, saying much the same as you did just now: that I avoided violence and seemed to abhor it. So Her Majesty generously took it as that I hadn't violated the spirit of my pledge. Which I suppose is true, even though I still feel I failed her."

‘Ah!’

"But what will the Princess of the Sun say if the Great Lord participates wholeheartedly in this battle?"

Anonymous grinned. "From what I've been told so far, the Games are a big ritual that's been turned into an even bigger show. There's lots of fighting and plenty of blood spilled, but nobody dies or even leaves with a permanent injury. The victors are celebrated, the losers honored for their valor. I don't think I could be accused of violating the spirit of my pledge just from throwing down in a well-regulated arena." He glanced once more at his set of blackened-bronze armor, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. "I'm sure it'll be an awful lot of work, and terribly exhausting, and probably even quite painful. I saw what happened to Lieutenant Kilfeather and his two wingmates even under the effect of the magical 'de-lethalizing' totems. But I do enjoy a challenge, and anyways, how are we going to know if your lessons are working if I don't try fighting 'for real' at least once? This way it can be done without any casualties."

Then he smiled. "Besides, it sounds like fun."

Ebonshield smiled in turn, pleased to see this side of her VIP outside of the ring of sand in the Grand Hall of Stars. Clearly, he understood his capacity for violence. But he knew also how quickly violence could spread like flame uncontrolled.

‘Excellent!’

‘He will surely appreciate what I have brought for him.’

"In this case, Great Lord, since you have decided to fight with us, I have brought for you a gift personal."

Unfolding her wings, Ebonshield swept back her cloak to reveal the small saddle-bags strapped to her flanks. Sitting down on her haunches, she opened the left one with a wing-finger, then reached in with her forehooves to extract a heavy, curled-up bundle of red fabric, held together with a strap and buckle. She placed the wrapping on the desk and pushed the bundle forwards, and the Royal Engineer parted his papers and stood up.

"A gift? For the Grand Mêlée? What is it?"

"Open, and see for yourself."

He slid the bundle delicately across the desk, pulled the strap out from the buckle, then unrolled the wrapping to reveal the contents. Inside the bundle of cloth sat a brace of twelve steel blades, each of them tucked into their own reinforced pocket, like a set of Equestrian silverware.

"Daggers?"

The Royal Engineer pulled one out for examination. Of a minimalist style, the dull, silvery metal was uniform in color, the shape symmetrical, the body flat. There was only the double-edged blade, a small pair of bumps to act as a guard, and the handle, all a single piece of steel without adornments, polished to remove any trace of the tools which formed him. Her VIP tried balancing the blade on a finger, noticing how easily the weapon sat on the line made between the two guards.

"...Throwing daggers. Steel throwing daggers. But these aren't like your weapons -- they aren't pattern-welded, as there's no 'marbling' to the material."

Ebonshield bowed her head. "Yes, Great Lord. Tonino tells me that this steel is just as fine as one used for my blades, if not even, in his opinion, better. This is in fact the steel common, used for ordinary cutlery and tools, which makes them unpopular among the Stars because they dislike any association between their weapons and the equipment of dimmer Phases. But he assures me that the blades are of superb quality, will cut well, keep sharp, and not shatter. He said also that as you are interested in the processing of metal, you should find this more interesting."

Anonymous held his mouth open in awe, looking over the blade. "Carbon steel. Tool steel. All that time I spent down in the Rookery talking to him and his guild-partners about pattern-welded crucible steel, thinking it would be a starting point, and your people can make carbon steel already. Talk about getting lost in translation!"

Ebonshield bowed humbly. "I apologize, Great Lord. The words technical were most difficult to translate. And I do not believe I properly conveyed the Great Lord's desire to learn the most advanced techniques of the Guild of Blacksmiths."

"I don't blame you. It was a tough job, and maybe I didn't make my wishes clear, either. I thought that pattern-welded crucible steel must have been the best they could do. I'm sure Tonino thought my single-minded focus on that technique was confusing as well. But what on the Moon can they be using to obtain the heat necessary? It can't just be charcoal."

She had anticipated that her VIP would ask questions about the technique. Tonino had as well; perhaps, after having reflected upon the dozens of questions that the Engineer Royal asked him, he finally understood the grand designs of the Great Lord. And he had therefore given her a quick education in the steel-making of the Children of the Stars.

"Yes, Great Lord. Tonino explained to me this technique as best he could. Some charcoal is still used to purify the ore, but otherwise the Blacksmiths must rely on magic. As you say, this steel, he requires more heat. Devices have been made for the Rocks by the Eclipse which produce the heat immense. They are empowered copies of the devices used by the Lunar-phase to heat our cities and melt buried ice. This, along with charcoal and some other reagents, is used to produce the base metal which can then be steeled by heating again with yet more ingredients."

Turning over the blade in his hands, Anonymous nodded, a look of wonder still on his face. "Magic heat. Charcoal for carbon monoxide to reduce the iron oxide, but magic for heat. Of course; at the root of everything in this world, it's always magic..."

Then he bent over and immediately rifled through his papers. "We'll have to use it, too. There's charcoal here, but we'd have to chop down every forest to get enough to use it as fuel. There's a little coal, but not nearly enough coal production to fuel a single smelter, let alone a nation of them. And even if we used coal, then we'd still want magical assistance to coke it. Not to mention scrubbing the exhaust of all these processes. I won't poison this nation's air and water or turn Canterlot's bright buildings black with smog."

Then he pulled out a sheet full of what looked like names and addresses. "I knew I'd have to deal with a magician sooner or later. I had Specialist Sparkshower deliver one letter earlier; I must be prepared to broaden my search if that one refuses."

He seemed ready to sit down and write a letter, then he stopped himself and looked at the batpony. "...But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me thank you first of all for this wonderful gift. I take it you think I should use these to the Grand Mêlée?"

She smiled. "The Great Lord appeared to appreciate the art of the dagger in our training. Yes, you may use these in our coming fight, and I have brought a device also with which to carry them."

She flicked open her left saddle-bag, and removed a bundle of black-dyed bands and straps, laying them on the desk. Putting down the dagger, the Engineer Royal picked up the second part of the gift, quickly understanding the purpose and held the item properly.

"A belt and double bandolier, with sheaths for eight blades across the breast and two over and behind the shoulders." Turning the gift around, he smiled. “Yet there are twelve daggers in this beautiful set. Where am I to put the other two?"

Ebonshield pointed a hoof at his greaves, neatly arranged beneath his cuirass. "Tucked into your leg armor, Great Lord, held in by the straps. Or perhaps hidden behind your shield. Or even kept in the vehicle. There are many places to hide a small spare blade or two to surprise an enemy or to arm yourself when all other weapons have been lost. You must experiment to see what you prefer."

Finally she pulled a tied bundle of a dozen wooden practice daggers out of her left bag. "I have had made for you also a set with which to practice."

Anonymous placed the bandolier down on his desk, then picked up the loose dagger and slipped the knife back into the red cloth case with the other eleven. "This is an incredible gift, Sergeant. Thank you."

She bowed again. "You are most welcome, Great Lord. I cannot take all the credit, since Tonino gives the blades to you freely, as a gift of friendship. He and his guild look forward to working with you on the surface soon."

"Well, you must thank him on my behalf, then. We'll pay him another visit after the Gala, and hopefully by then we'll have located a site for the foundry."

Running his fingers along the exposed hilts of the daggers in their soft case, the Engineer Royal suddenly lifted his head. "Sergeant, would you mind if I had a look at one of those foreleg mechanisms of yours? Not the blade, just the spring mechanism."

‘A request a little curious.’

‘Does he wish for a set of Dancing Needles for himself?’

That could be arranged, but they were a dangerous tool for the untrained, and his fingers were in particular a great concern. Or did he merely seek to understand the functioning of the mechanism? Surely his people have built more complex things; El Torbellino is himself more complicated. Regardless, she saw no reason not to humor his request.

Raising her left foreleg, she extended the blade held in the Dancing Needle device with a flick. Then she depressed the hidden lever which released the blade to swing free, allowing the dagger to fall softly on the carpet. Finally, she undid the belts which bound the mechanism to her, presenting the weapon to the Engineer Royal.

"Be careful, Great Lord, as the spring still has the power with which to propel a dagger. However, this should not discharge without a blade in place."

Anonymous nodded as he received the device. She watched as the weapon was turned over to examine the three coil springs: the first two, which extended and retracted the Needle, and the third, which propelled the daggers.

Then he laughed and gave the Dancing Needle back to her. "Most of this isn't made of pattern-welded steel either. It's spring steel, a different product of the same process which produces tool steel. Are these things known to break?"

Ebonshield began to reattach the Dancing Needle. "Rarely, Great Lord. Only after the usage considerable, and only when they have been maintained improperly."

"How about your blades? Do they break?"

"Sometimes, if driven or twisted with the force excessive."

He nodded, grinning. "Tell your armorers to switch to blades made of the steel used in my daggers. They won't be as pretty, but I'm certain they'll be less brittle. Or must your Temple stay fashionable among the Stars?"

She returned his smile. "A Stellar Dancer is practical, Great Lord. We must be, in our profession. If you say that the steel which looks plain and is used for tools and knives is superior to the steel which looks elegant and is used for weapons, I will tell the Sixes to make purchases and begin tests at once."

"Good. The sacrifice of fashion will be worth it, I guarantee it."

When she finished reattaching and rearming the Dancing Needle, the Engineer Royal nodded at her. "And speaking of fashion, I just realized we never spoke of your appearance at the Gala. The other members of the quaternion told me that this event requires new, over-the-top outfits. I've got mine, I helped Corporal Bound pick out hers, and I've seen Specialist Sparkshower's in person, all under the guidance of Specialist Glamerspear, who's purchased a designer dress of her own, I understand. I hope you were similarly advised and have suitably equipped yourself."

‘Ah, how thoughtful.’

He worried because he did not know if she had been out to the vendors with the other soldiers.

She had -- only not the vendors here in the Canterlot; for while they did know how to dress a pony with feathery wings, she thought they might struggle to dress one with wings of leather.

Particularly one who wished to carry at least one pair of Dancing Needles to the Gala.

Perhaps the Specialist Glamerspear could have assisted her also in finding a clothier suitable, but to fashion a custom dress was no small affair. Timing and price went hoof-in-hoof as well. Here in Canterlot, Ebonshield had a little money to spend, but in the Rookery, as on the Moon, she had a fortune. Thus, she had not only daggers and a bandolier awaiting her in the market square of the Rookery this morning; there was another precious thing of embroidered cloth as well.

"Sí, Great Lord, I have been so advised, and therefore so equipped."

He lifted an eyebrow. "I'm curious as to what you've chosen. I get the feeling it wasn't purchased in Canterlot. And somehow I doubt a member of the Star phase knows how to sew, either."

She smiled. "The Great Lord is blessed with great insight and perception. These statements are true."

"I hope it's not just a black bodysuit as you wore on our club crawl Tuesday night. Though you certainly did attract enough attention in it."

‘Indeed.’

She recalled making many fluttering eyes at many flustered colts who realized perhaps only too late that her pupils were different in shape -- not to mention reflective. A few even got close enough to notice that she did not have feathery wings, either. Sadly, none of them had the courage to find out if her larger canines were not merely a trick of the imagination. And all that in her simple 'Leotardo.'

"No, Great Lord. For the Gala, I have another dress."

"Good. I know it's just a party but all this preparation -- the suit, the dresses, the boutonnière, the formal dance rehearsals with Specialist Sparkshower -- has gotten me rather excited about Saturday. I'd like for us all to make a splash. And I've worked up some energy that needs to be unleashed on a dance floor, too."

"I believe the Great Lord will be pleased with my contribution to this 'splash.' But the Gala, is she 'just a party'?"

"Is that another one of your pseudo-rhetorical questions? What do you mean this time? Isn't it a party?"

Ebonshield whinnied with amusement. "Sí, she is of course a party. But I do not forget the first invitation earlier of the Specialist Sparkshower to dance not the 'Waltz' but the 'Maypole,' which is an Equestrian declaration of interest in marriage. I have heard rumors that such contracts are often brokered at this event, and that those who are single may find themselves attached by the end of the night."

"Are you suggesting I'm going to find myself a... well, a mate at the Grand Galloping Gala, Sergeant?"

"I suggest only that this is a possibility." Smirking, she tilted her head to the side. "Or at least an opportunity."

Anonymous puffed his cheeks and blew out. "I think I've got a lot on my plate already without trying to find a... what, a 'marefriend,' I guess? Is that the common word, here?"

"Yes, Great Lord."

That curt answer unsettled her VIP. "Well, what? You think I should try? You really think there'll be a pony at the Gala who'd be interested in me? Granted, Corporal Bound gave me an earful on pony sex characteristics, and I've had your mother practically throwing her Lunars at my feet, but according to Corporal Bound, I was attractive only with 'experience.' Like learning to enjoy black coffee, I suppose."

She bowed. "All that the Great Lord speaks is true. I suggest only that a confident colt dressed well, of high station in life, and with a growing reputation in the industry and in the military, who arrives at the Gala surrounded by four mares beautiful, athletic, enthusiastic, and attired finely..." Lifting her head, she smirked. "...This colt, he will attract attention, regardless if the desire physical is not immediate. Therefore I suggest that the Great Lord prepare himself to receive this treatment, and to consider what he shall do if confronted with any proposals for a relationship."

Anonymous looked at her in silence for several seconds.

Then he let out a single chortle, nodding. "Huh. Very well, Sergeant. I'll give it a thought. Now, it's nearly supper time, and I think I'd like to take a brisk walk around the garden beforehand. Would you care to join me?"

"I join with pleasure, Great Lord."

"Excellent. Let's go."

With that, he stood up and opened the patio door behind his desk, and Ebonshield followed him out into the palace gardens.

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