Wrapping your arms around your stomach, you try your hardest to keep from vomiting. Being teleported this much has to be hazardous to your health in some way. You place a hand down on the floor, trying to maintain some sort of ground. Your reflection looks back at you in the sleek marble flooring, completely pale and sickened. Celestia brings herself towards you, making sure to keep enough distance in the event that you suddenly throw up.

“Are you alright, Anonymous?” she whispers, a look of concern across her face. Her voice echoes throughout the room, even though she kept it low and meek. Lifting yourself up from the floor, you look the alicorn in the eyes and nod.

“I’m fine, Princess. I’m just not used to being teleported; twice, for that matter,” you mumble, still trying to regain your composure. Her frown widens as her eyes give signs of true consideration.

“If I had known magic would do such a thing, I wouldn’t hav—” You raise your hand, interrupting her.

“It’s not your fault, I assure you this. Please stop taking the blame for it.” She does a tilts her head back in surprise, quickly replacing her frown with a small smile. Looking around the room, you immediately notice quite a few things.

For one, this was clearly a throne room; it was obvious with the enormous throne at the end of the room. The furnishings were a nice addition as well, taking the eye away from the shiny, yet bland marble flooring and walls. Stainless glass windows retell the tale you had seen before, but show greater sign of care with their gleam from the moonlight. Large tapestries hang along the walls, each embroidered with with the same symbol: two alicorns trailing right behind one another around the sun and the moon.

“This is quite the place,” you state, turning back to the princess. She makes her way towards the exit of the room, beckoning you with the wave of her muzzle. Following her not too far behind, you watch as the armor clad guards bow as she walks by. They eye you cautiously, watching your every move, ready to strike if need be. You keep your hands ready in the event that this happens to be an ambush of some sort, but a voice in the back of your head reminds you of something: They have a clear advantage over you with their magic. She leads you to the hallway where a very stern and gruff-looking stallion stands. His armor is different from the others; it wasn’t the usual gold, but a deep purple with a gold trimming. He scans you from head to toe before turning back to the princess.

“You sure this is the one?” he asks with a furrowed brow, peeking at you out of the corner of his eye. The princess gives him a heated glare, causing him to remove his gaze from her. “Not that I doubt your judgement, your highness, but he just doesn’t seem like much.”

“As captain of the Royal Guard, I’d expect a much better way of introducing yourself to our guest, Durus.” The guard bows his head and kneels down, muttering an apology. The princess regains her beautiful smile. “Now, would you please show Anonymous here to the guest bedrooms? He has been through a lot today and needs his rest.”

“As you wish, Princess,” he replies, giving her another kneel before she leaves. Durus turns to you, giving you a look with his almost dead-like eyes. You’ve seen those eyes before; they marked a being who has seen too much in his times. Losing friends and comrades in battle, taking the lives of other beings: they were the same eyes that looked back at you when you peered into a mirror. Both of you continue your exchanging stares for a moment, not uttering a single word. There was no need to; the silence spoke for you both.

“Follow me,” he murmurs, finally breaking the long stretch of silence. He begins to make his way down the hall with you at his side. His heavy steps along with your clanking armor echo against the bare walls, breaking any form of silence that might have been brought between you two as you venture forward.

“That some scar you’ve got there,” he mentions, not breaking his line of sight from in front of himself. It’s safe to assume he meant the one on your face since it is the only part of your body that’s exposed. “Cut yourself shaving?” You chuckle as you caress the scar with the cold tips of your gauntlet, remembering the fight associated to the wound.

“It was a ‘close shave’, if you will. I was working checkpoint duty, making sure no one dangerous came into our country. Being the novice I was, I didn’t anticipate an ambush.”

Removing your hand from your face, you look at it and remember exactly what happened. It was another day of patting people down for weapons as the relentless sun beat down on you. You couldn’t have been no more than sixteen; still naive and oblivious to the dangers of the real world. An older gentleman had finished his paperwork and came to you for a frisking. It was a foolish mistake to forget to check his sleeves as well as every other part; you probably would have noticed the hidden dagger he had waiting for you. In a single, swift motion, the man pulled out the blade and swung across your face.

“What happened to the ambusher?” Durus says, interrupting your day dream. You shake your head and look back at the stallion.

“He didn’t get very far. Caused quite a riot, but it simmered down within a few minutes. He was later imprisoned and held on trial where they asked me if I wanted to press charges on him. I decided against it.” The stallion eyes you tentatively, trying to piece together why you would do such a thing.

“I assume you had a good reason?”

“I had my reasons,” you say bluntly, trying to end the discussion on the topic. “Is this my room?” you ask, pointing at a red door with gold trimming. Durus nods and opens the door for you with his magic.

“Yes. There’s a bath in the next room and the bed is right there. I’m pretty sure the princess will have a tailor come to assist you with fresh linings tomorrow so you don’t have to wear the same apparel over and over,” he mutters as you enter the room. Removing the gauntlets from your hands, you stretch out your fingers and crack your knuckles. Durus stares at your hands, bewildered the new spectacle. He stares at your hands curiously, almost as if they are new wonders to him. Placing the plate armor onto the dresser, you turn to Durus.

“I should be fine here. Thank you for your assistance.” Durus gives you a small nod before exiting the room, slowly closing door behind him. Sliding out of your leggings, you look around the spacious room. A shag red carpet covers the floor from corner to corner as a nice mahogany finish lines the walls and ceiling, which was strange to see in a castle. A large, comfy looking bed sits in the center of the room, calling your name. It’s been quite a day for you, so maybe some sleep would be best for your weary self. After placing your sword and shield down on the nightstand beside your bed, you crawl under the covers and lay your head down.

Questions begin to fill your head as you wait for sleep’s embrace to consume you. Why were you banished here of all places? What’s your purpose here? But most importantly: How are you going to get home? As these questions slowly fade from your mind, so does your sense of consciousness as you lull into a light slumber.

The light sound of hooves clopping against the marble outside your bedroom door, jarring you from your forty winks. Moving ever so slightly, you feel silk rub against your skin as your reach from out of under the covers towards your sword on the nightstand. With sleight of hand, you grab the blade and pull it under your blanket before the door opens. It creaks loudly as the hoofsteps are muffled by the thick carpeting on the floor.

Slowly unsheathing your sword, you continue to fake your sleep as the intruder inches closer. In one fell swoop, you swing your blade and stop at the creature’s neck. The mare stares at the blade, terror evident in her eyes.

“Who sent you and why?” you bluntly say, ready to strike if need be. Tears begin to swell in the mare’s eyes as her eyes switch between you and the blade.

“C-Celestia, she sent m-me to get y-y-you for breakfast,” she chokes, trying her best to maintain her composure. Retracting the sword, you place it back in its sheath and give her modest nod.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to pull my weapon out on you. But next time you enter my room, knock first.” The mare nods and gallops off, not even daring to look back. Removing yourself from the warm security of your bed, you get up and put on your armor. This apparel is basically a second skin to you by now: it’s almost weightless.

As you walk out of the room, you look down the hall when you realize something: You don’t know where anything is. Walking around aimlessly, you peek into rooms in hopes of finding someone who could help you. The rooms were very large, each containing something different. Bedrooms, offices, libraries; hell, there was even a sauna! A loud throat clearing catches you off guard as you start opening one of the doors. Turning around, you look down at none other than Durus.

“Can I ask why you’re trying to peek into the maids’ dressing room?” he hints, putting on a sly grin. You return a deadpan look and close the door.

“I was trying to find anyone who could assist me in finding Celestia. She’s apparently wants me to meet her for breakfast, but I may have scared my escort away,” you mumble, grasping the handle of you sword. He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head.

“I’ll take you. I’m heading down there myself. Follow me.”

Durus leads you to a large dining hall which, after a short walk, was in the opposite direction you had headed. Celestia sits at the end of the table, pecking away at a corn muffin. Her hair sparkles in the sunlight from the windows, giving off an elegant and beautiful shine. Two guards stand beside her, not taking an eye off you as you walk up to the princess. She waves her hoof at the seat to her right and swallows the bit of muffin down.

“Please, have a seat. The servants just put the food on the table.” As you try to take a seat, one of the guards stops you with a glare in his eyes.

“No weapons at the table,” he advises, pointing at your blade. Returning the glare you take a seat and ignore his order.

“I don’t go anywhere without my sword,” you grunt, taking a seat. The guard’s glare grows. He opens his mouth to repeat his order, but is shortly cut off by a familiar throat clearing. The guard turns to Durus, who returns a deathly stare.

“Our guest can keep his blade if he wishes to. He wouldn’t even dream of attacking our beloved princess, would you?” Shaking your head, you remove your gauntlets.

“Of course not,” you reply. The guard backs off, but not before muttering something incoherent under his breath. Before Durus takes his seat, he eyes your sword.

“Would you mind if I look at your blade?” he asks, pointing at it with his hoof. You hesitantly unsheathe the blade and bring it to his eye level. A few knicks line the edges of the blade, showing clear signs of age and use. Durus hums to himself while inspecting the blade, noticing the bend at the tip.

“This weapon has seen a lot. I could imagine what its user had been through as well,” he says, eyeing the princess right after. Giving off a shrug, you sheathe the sword as he makes his way to the seat across from you.

“Nothing that I’m proud of, I can assure you that,” you comment, sliding your chair in towards the table. “I only use it in defense, I can tell you that much.” Celestia looks up from cup of tea and furrows her brow.

“I know of this already, since you did pull the blade out on one of my servants,” she hints.

“I apologize for that, Princess. She entered my room without knocking. I could only expect the worst would happen had I not been ready,” you say, not wanting to start an unnecessary argument. It’s best to be truthful in this situation and not hide anything. They may be ponies, but you’re not one for fight off an army, especially when a majority of them could use magic against you. The princess merely nods and takes another sip of her tea.

“No, it should be me apologizing to you. My servants should know better than to enter a room without the permission of its occupant. But, rest assured,” she starts, seriousness plastered across her face, “you are safe in my castle. I understand you may have concerns for your own safety, being in a new foreign land and all, but you have my word that we will not try to do anything as long as you return that favor.”

“I wouldn’t attack anyone unless in defense, as I stated before. I have no problems with a simple agreement like that,” you reply, poking at the scrambled eggs on your plate. Celestia slowly nods her head in agreement.

“You mean well; that scar on your face is evidence.” You nearly drop your fork as the statement reaches your ears. How did she know about that? Then the answer pops up in your head, since it was sitting in front of you. Durus continues to eat the food on his plate, not bothering to look up from it. Celestia places her now empty cup on a saucer which is quickly picked up by one of the servants.

“Thank you,” she tells the mare before turning her head back to you. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is the reason you didn’t charge the one who assaulted you?” Placing your fork on the table, you lean back in your chair and look up at the cathedral-esque ceiling.

“I was taken by two brothers, the lords of the land I come from, when I was young. The oldest of the two was the one who raised me before he died. He always told me that a man should not hold a grudge against someone. I know it sounds foolish to forgive a person who assaulted me, but I live by his teachings.”

Durus looks up from his meal and shrugs. “It’s a bit foolish, yes, but noble nonetheless. Why did he assault you, though? Did you provoke him or something?” Stretching out your arms, you place your elbows on the table to hold up your chin.

“The man was trying to help his people get through the checkpoint by causing a distraction. Our immigration laws were kind of strict at the time, making it pretty hard to get into the country. He apologized to me when I visited and explained his reasoning. I told them to release him and went straight to the lord to explain everything. The laws were loosened a bit and, to this day, Herald became my best friend.”

“What a wonderful ending to such a story,” Celestia says, giving you a warm smile. “Your lord seems like quite the ruler.”

“He was,” you mutter, remembering him. The room falls into a silent, awkward air as the conversation dies down. As you finish your meal, Durus slides out of seat and stands beside you.

“Would you care to watch the royal guard training today? I wouldn’t want you being bored all day. Who knows, you might pick up a thing or two.” Placing your fork down on the plate, you stand from you chair.

“I don’t see why not.”

Durus leads you throughout the castle until you reach a large bailey filled with training dummies and wooden weapons. Stallions and mares covered in plate armor spar against one another, bellowing grunts and jeers with every swing they take.

“Aten-SHUN!” Durus bellows, echoing throughout the area. Every single guard stops what they’re doing and gallops to his position, saluting to their superior. “We have a guest here today. His name is Sir Anonymous of the southern country.” The guards mutter to one another about your title, staring at you with curious eyes.

“I expect you all to be on your best behavior. Don’t be afraid to flaunt our fighting style, however,” he jokes. “I need two ponies front and center, ready to spar so that we may demonstrate ourselves to Anon here.”

The two guards from breakfast step forward, carrying a shield and wooden spear with magic auras. Durus nods and the two stallion make some space amongst themselves. Durus looks between the two, making sure both are ready. He stomps a hoof against the ground, signalling the start of the spar. One stallion rushes forward, holding his shield up and spear pointed in front of himself. The other stallion stands strong and parries the rushed strike, knocking the spear aside and leaving the first stallion completely open. He presses the spear to his chest and stops.

“One of three. Round goes to Fatuus.” Durus blurts, stomping the ground again. The spar goes on with Fatuus being the victor, winning three to zero. The crowd of guards stomp their hooves in an applause like manner as Fatuus turns to you, a cocky expression on his face.

“Fatuus here is one of greatest veterans, being one of the personal guards Celestia herself. What do you think, Anon?” You hesitate from responding for a moment.

“He’s good, but I wouldn’t say the best.” The crowd grows silent. “The opponent, no offense,” you add, turning to the other stallion, “had no idea what he was doing with his rushed attack. That parry could have easily been avoided.”

Murmurs begin to rustle amongst the crowd as Fatuus walks forward.

“Why don’t you show us then?” he insists, grabbing his spear and shield.

“Do you have a wooden long sword and shield that I could perhaps use?” Durus nods and turns to one of the guards who runs over to the weapon rack. He hands you a kiteshield and wooden sword which, in your opinion, looks like a large stick. Stepping onto the small “battleground”, you bow to Fatuus who returns it. Durus looks between the both of you and stomps.

Following the other stallion’s example, you rush forward with your shield and sword raised. As you approach, you swing your weapon very widely, only to be parried. Holding your grip on the sword, your arm goes gets knocked back as you continue your rush forward, shield still raised. Fatuus freezes up, not knowing what to do as you pummel the shield into his chest, knocking him over. Bringing your arm forward, you put the point of the weapon to his neck and await Durus’s announcement.

“One of three. Round goes to Anonymous.” Stepping off of the stallion, you extend your hand out to help him up. He swats it away and stands up on his own.

“I can take care of myself!” he exclaims. Durus steps forward, ready to interject before a fight blows up, but stops as a certain mare moves forward.

“You should follow his example, Fatuus. It could save your life one day.” The entire crowd kneels down as Princess Celestia takes a stand next to you, picking up a spear from the ground. “Might I challenge you to spar, Anon?”

Author's Notes:

What in the hell? An update? What is this?!