//------------------------------// // 53 - The Palace of the Sun // Story: The Hollow Pony // by Type_Writer //------------------------------// On an adjacent rooftop, Kibitz hoisted his flag high, and it was time to go. The distraction at the main gate—a few rowdy royal guards sent against their fellows in the golden guard, to get their attention and pull the eyes of the armed guards on the walls towards the commotion—was well underway. I felt butterflies in my stomach at the thought of whether we were prepared for this, knowing that we weren’t going in at our full strength. We had chosen to leave Dinky back in the bar, since she was still being seen to by the more medically-inclined royal guard. I didn’t like leaving her behind like that, but she still hadn’t woken up, no matter what we did, and we had to keep moving. I comforted myself by repeating that I’d be back for her soon, but it still felt wrong. Hopefully she’d have woken up by then, at least. I’d left the staff of miracles with them as well. The stunt I pulled in the sewers seemed to have broken it somehow, and all I could force out of it were concerning wisps of smoke. It was better in their hooves; maybe they could even fix it, and use it to heal Dinky somehow. Misty Fly raised her own flag in response to Kibitz, and then dropped it onto the sunbaked tiles of the rooftop, as she leapt into the air. We followed her lead, with Soarin’ carrying me, and the combined efforts of Silver Lining and Gilda carrying Red. In mere moments, I was hauled upwards into the sky, and the rooftop fell away behind me. As we passed over the first building, which had kept us out of sight of the guards on the palace walls, the city spread out before me, and my breath caught in my lungs as we rose into the sunlight. Canterlot, even now, was a beautiful city. The rooftops below alternated between bright yellow and rich purple tiles, and the streets were made of marble paving stones. Gold and brass fixtures gleamed as they were illuminated by the light of the sunset, and a great many flags fluttered from flagpoles atop towers and mounted on roof cornices. I spotted a grand square where a pattern of the sun and moon had been laid into the very stones, visible only from above. As we swooped low to follow the mountain and the massive public parks that seperated the city from the slopes of the Canterhorn, I could see that even the decorative water fountains were still running, with sparkling streams of water pouring from amphoras and the weathered mouths of the statues. As we approached the palace, Misty flicked her wingtips to indicate her next maneuvers, and I grit my teeth while Soarin’ followed her patterns of sharp banks and steep climbs. I felt a tingle of electricity coursing through my fur when we passed through the secret gates of the interdiction field, but the Wonderbolts never lost control of their flight magic. They hadn’t changed the orientation of the field, then. Far below, we were spotted by the ponies on the walls, but only now that we were already overhead—the distraction had worked long enough for us to get a hoof in the door. A few Hollow pegasi gave chase, and just as soon fell prey to the interdiction field as it sapped their magic. They plummeted back down to the battlements and the moat below while we swooped and dove through invisible checkpoints, leaving them far behind. Only the bolts, bullets, and spells of the golden guard presented any danger, and though we flew fast and erratically enough that it was hard for them to target us, I did hear a thump of a spell bursting in the air behind me, followed shortly by Red letting out a startled shout. I glanced behind as best I could, but the three following us were a blur as we flew—as long as they were still flying, they couldn’t have been hurt too badly. Misty Fly corkscrewed into a sharp dive—I have no idea if that was a necessary part of the flightpath, or if the Wonderbolts couldn’t resist showing off—and Soarin’ followed suit. My vision spun, and when the world seemed steady, we had swept past a teardrop-shaped tower spire, and had begun a final low approach towards a wide, flat, golden-tiled rooftop. “G-good luck, Spitfire!” Soarin’ croaked, and then I was falling—he’d dropped me a dozen-or-so leg-lengths above the rooftop, and my wings flared for a moment as I tried to slow my fall. Wind rushed past my face, and then I landed with a teeth-rattling crash onto the tiles. Thankfully, they didn’t actually seem to be solid gold, or even gold at all; they were yellow-dyed ceramic, and my impact cracked a few and scattered dozens more as I slid to a stop. I laid there for a few seconds just to catch my breath, even though it wasn’t necessary. I may have not technically needed to breathe, but I felt compelled to carry through with the motions anyway. It allowed the rest of the aches and pains from the landing to start fading, at least. I heard a yelp from behind me, then a much louder crash as Red joined me on the roof, and then I felt a gust of swooping wings overhead—GIlda, most likely, who hadn’t needed to touch down at all. “Get moving, Holly!” She screeched as she banked back over us. “They know we’re here, and—move!” I struggled to my hooves, but not quick enough—sudden lancing pain shot through my side as something heavy, long and sharp pierced my barrel, and tossed my body along the roof for a few more body-lengths. When the world stopped spinning, I tried to sit up, only for something to shift inside my barrel, while the other end banged against the tiles beside me. I could already hear the distant sounds of a melee, but none of it seemed to be too close to me, so I used my brief respite to inspect my new injury. A massive arrow, fired from a greatbow or perhaps a mounted ballista, had pierced my barrel and the armor on both sides. The tip wasn’t buried in the roof at least—I wasn’t pinned down like an insect in a case—but it made it a lot harder to move and roll myself over onto my hooves. I had the distinct feeling that I should have been in a lot more pain than I was, and I didn’t know whether it was just shock or some new side effect of Hollowing that I wasn’t in agony. There was certainly a dull ache in my chest, having completely replaced the sore feeling of the air having been knocked out of my lungs, but I was now worried that they’d been shot through entirely. But I wasn’t dead yet. I grabbed the shaft of the arrow, and started to drag it through, pushing the tip away as the rest slid through my body. After only a moment of straining and shallow wheezing, I’d moved enough of the arrow that I could roll over onto my hooves, and the rest slid out as I did, landing with a wet clatter onto the rooftop as my black blood gushed from both of the open wounds. Now on my hooves, I could finally take stock of the situation. Red was busy fighting three golden guards in full-body plate armor, and clearly winning. Gilda was doing low circles overhead while using her bow to distract the ponies in armor, and pick off the few that weren’t. And staring at me was another unicorn mare, maybe thirty leg-lengths away, wearing that same plate armor. She held a massive golden greatbow aloft in her magic—bows weren’t typically pony weapons, but maybe the sheer power of a greatbow made them useful enough to consider. She was already pulling the string back with the tip of her next arrow pointed directly at me, and I had barely enough time to throw myself to the side, before that arrow blurred through the space I’d occupied a second before. More blood gushed out of my wounds as I scrambled back to my hooves, and I broke into a limping gallop towards her as she fluidly drew and nocked her next arrow. She tracked my movements as I moved towards her, and the next arrow was meant to intercept me. I only avoided being impaled breast-to-rump like a gryphon-style spitroast by jumping as she fired, which caused the arrow to crack the tiles as it buried itself in the rooftop. I staggered as I landed on my hooves, slapped the magical release button on my extending spear, and then charged straight at her in a sloppy, bleeding cavalry charge. She didn’t have enough time to nock her next arrow before I was upon her. The tip of my spear blunted itself against her immaculate gold-trimmed armor, but it still threw her off balance, and I tackled her onto the rooftop, to keep her in place. I focused on her horn first; if I didn’t, then she could shoot me from behind with her hovering bow. Both my armored hooves slammed down onto the side of her helm, and jostled her head enough that the metal of her own armor banged her horn in turn. A sudden weight smacked onto my back as her greatbow dropped, then bounced away, and I stomped on her helm again to try and keep her incapacitated. I was going for a third when a flash of thunder struck, and I was knocked backwards off the mare as smoke rolled over the rooftop. This felt familiar; somepony up here had a rifle. By the time I was back on my hooves, Gilda had already singled them out, and was beating the lightly-armored riflepony senseless with the mare's discarded greatbow. The golden-armored mare that I’d attacked before was growling in a distinctly feral way as she struggled to stand, and I charged at her again. This time, I caught her off guard, and I aimed the blunted tip of my spear for the front of her helmet, and her visor—through which the last thing she saw was that spear. I jammed it inside as hard as I could, and a wet crunch signaled her exit from the battle as she collapsed limply back onto the rooftop. I was dragged off my hooves by her weight, as the spear was well and truly stuck, and I struggled for a few moments against the dead golden guard. Eventually, I slapped at my side, where the spear was mounted—I’d been hoping to detach the spear and grab it properly with my hooves to pull it out, but instead it retracted suddenly, and there was a second horrible crunch as it was yanked back out of her helm in an instant, accompanied by a splatter of black bodily fluids and skull fragments. There was blood in my mouth. I wasn’t sure if it was my own, or some of hers. I spat it out and wiped my face, but did little else but smear it across my brow. Then I was under attack again, as another golden-armored unicorn jammed his blade into the gaping wound in my side, and my breath left my body for a third time in as many minutes. I collapsed onto the roof again, and the guardstallion followed me down, keeping the blade buried in my side. A second blade floated past his head—a side sword, though more of a dagger, and it was aimed right for my throat. With him pinned atop me, my options were limited, and he grabbed my hoof in his own and slammed it against my side. His dagger plunged downwards, and I gagged on a mouthful of blood as it slipped under my chin and speared through my throat—but he’d shoved my hoof against the release button for my spear, without realizing he’d done so. I pressed the button, and the spear extended once more. I was in a bad position for this. The back end of the shortspear was jammed against the roof, and it was already straining in the mount as I was pinned down. When it extended, the sheer force of the magical mechanism shattered that mount, and the entire spring-loaded length of the spear fired upwards like a bullet. The blunted speartip slammed into his chest, and if it was still sharp, it might have even penetrated—but instead, the impact launched the armored stallion into the air, and his grip on both blades dissipated when he slammed back down onto the tiles. I didn’t see where the spear went; I had other concerns. I grabbed at the longsword that had been left in the side of my barrel, and slid that back out as I gurgled my own foaming blood around the dagger still buried in my throat. I shakily staggered back to my hooves, and more black blood spattered onto the rooftop as I tried to find my opponent. He was already back on his hooves by the time I spotted him, and my vision was getting dark around the edges. His horn lit as he grabbed the dagger in my throat and yanked it to the side, then back out—I felt the bones in my neck shatter as he did, and all feeling below them disappeared as I crumpled onto the rooftop. He approached as my vision started to fade, and I could see his face inside his helmet, lit by the dull glow of his horn. He was deeply Hollowed, but had enough left of his mind to grin madly as he brought the dagger around one last time. Then two massive red hooves grabbed his helm and twisted, and his body went stiff before it fell out of sight. My vision slipped away as I started to get pulled upwards—onto Red’s back, I hoped. * * * My neck and barrel were in agony when I awoke, but I could feel them again, so I’d be fine. I let out a rasping gurgle, like the sound of a pony drowning in their own blood, and slapped at my own face with a hoof to check the damages. “Woah! You’re up fast!” Gilda said, with a chuckle. “Red’s still barricading the door, but I think we’ve lost their interest anyways. Most of ‘em seemed to forget about us as soon as we slipped out of sight. How ya feelin, sister?” I made another sucking, gurgling noise, and groped at my throat with my hoof. It was still a mess; even just that exploratory prod and my attempts to speak had caused a fresh gush of black blood to run down my breast. The hole left by the dagger hadn’t even sealed, and the air never made it past that void in my neck. “That great, huh?” Gilda asked sarcastically. “Well, sit tight, we got some time. We were actually debating whether we should stash you here and check that armory while you were dead.” My trembling hoof grasped for my bottomless bag, and Gilda helped me find it. From inside, I withdrew the flask of sunlight, uncorked it, and started to splash the miraculous fluid over my sucking throat wound. My breast felt warm as the fluid washed down my body, and after a couple of splashes, my throat began to burn as it healed. Gilda took the bottle as I gagged on the ruins of my own throat, with new flesh sealing the ruined scraps of my old throat back in place, and I had to hack up the remnants before I could clear my airway. I swallowed more than a few chunks of my flesh as well, which I didn’t like to think about. But after a minute or two of gagging and retching and thumping my own barrel, I could squeeze a whisper of air into my lungs. “Th…th…thanks…” I managed to rasp out, then motioned for the flask again. Gilda passed it back to me, and this time I took a proper swig. It burned all the way down my ravaged throat, and I had to cough a few more times as I continued to heal. Finally, I recorked the flask, and looked up at Gilda. “G-good to go in a f-few minutes.” Gilda nodded, then looked over my shoulder. “Guess we’ll just hit the throne room then, Red. Holly’s ready to kill again!” “Ah heard.” Heavy hoofsteps padded around me, as Red looked me over, and his eyes lingered on that flask. He’d never gotten a proper explanation of what it was, had he? But then, he’d never asked. “Ah’d still rather go to the armory. We’re only gonna get the drop on her once.” “And that’s all we need! Come on, we can take Rainbow Crash just fine. Bet she’ll be too busy showboating to actually fight worth half a damn.” Red shook his head, and looked away. “She broke that habit pretty quick in the dragonlands. You haven’t seen her fight since.” “And you have?” Red looked at us both again. “Yeah. Only heard stories about the last few weeks; got called back to Canterlot too early. But ah was there long enough to see her earn that title.” “Fine, fine.” Gilda waved at him dismissively. “So she can kill dragons. We’re indoors; even the best pegasus alive—or undead—needs room to fly. And if she bails out a window, then we can just walk right through her little chokepoint. You got the skinny on how she fights exactly? That might be more useful than being vague and ominous.” “Fast and brutal.” Red’s response was instant, even as he closed his eyes, and shuddered. “And incredibly skilled with weather magic. Maud Pie worked out the dragons were vulnerable to lightning, and Dash took to channeling like a fish t’ water. She’ll throw bolts, she’ll kick thunder around, she’ll blind us with clouds. An’ if she’s still got her spear…” Mention of a spear got my attention, and I glanced around the room. We were in what looked like a weathered recreational lounge in the palace, with a billiards table and other furniture that had been ancient even before the sun stopped. But I didn’t see my collapsible spear anywhere. “Sp-speaking of…w-where’d my weapon g-go?” “You lost that trick weapon of yours?” Gilda asked, as she raised her eyebrow. “That’s a shame, was a really pretty piece of work. Might still be on the roof.” I recalled how it had launched my assailant upwards, and realized it must have kept flying even further than he had. No, finding it now seemed unlikely, unless I had the time and freedom to wander around the palace exterior and scour the gardens. And even if I did, it was already in pretty poor shape. I really treated my equipment poorly. “N-no, it's probably g-gone.” I mumbled. “D-didn’t work great against p-ponies in armor, anyways.” Red nodded. “Not against plate armor. Mace might do you good in here, if y’ got the strength to swing one.” “A m-mace?” I’d been trying to work out what would be a good replacement, and my thoughts had drifted to the pickaxe we’d seen back in the Plastered Princess. Maybe something like a war-pick, something big and heavy with a long point that could pierce armor. A mace had worked well against the flimsy skeletons of Cloudsdale, but it felt like it would just bounce off plate armor without actually doing any damage. Before I could contemplate the problem any further, Red explained. “Hit an armored pony with a mace, and their own armor batters ‘em for ya.” His eyes fell upon the billiards table besides us. “Ya ever play this game? It’s kinda like that. One ball hits another, and both balls roll away pretty quick.” Gilda nodded in agreement. “Yeah, what he said. Hit a pony wearing armor in the head with a mace, and their own helmet rings their bell for ya.” She tapped her beak thoughtfully. “Now that I think about it…pretty sure one of the guards out there was walking around with a mace. Didn’t think much of it at the time, since they’re usually slow enough to swing that I can dodge ‘em pretty easily.” Red leaned on the billiards table, and glanced back over his shoulder. Following his gaze, I spotted a pretty hefty barricade blocking one of the exits out of the room. The other just had a couch shoved up against the doors—maybe Red hadn’t finished blocking off that one yet, or maybe he’d been planning for us to use that one to leave. “Think y’ can slip out and steal it for Holly?” “Oh, easy!” Gilda said with a cackling laugh. “Stay put, and heal up. I’ll go grab that for you. Red, don’t catch my tail in the door.” They both moved over to the door, and as Red pulled the couch away, Gilda pulled the door handle to crack it open, so she could peer outside. “Looks clear enough. Be right back.” And then she slipped through the doors and disappeared. Red shut the door behind her, and sat with his back against the wood, waiting for her to return. As he did, he glanced at me. “It’s…weird, seein’ someone so happy, these days.” He wasn’t wrong about that; Gilda was downright glowing, now that we were so close to our encounter with Dash. I was honestly a little surprised she’d been willing to wait for me to wake up, and apparently was so willing to run off and steal a new weapon for me, but Gilda…I was always getting mixed signals from Gilda. I was at least socially aware enough to understand she’d latched on to me, and I’d kind of been wondering about that for a while. Why was she so helpful, and so protective of me? She’d said before that I wasn’t her type, so I doubted there was any kind of romantic interest. And the more she spoke about Rainbow Dash, the more I got the impression that she was trying to…replace her, maybe? And I was that replacement? From what everypony else had told me about Rainbow Dash, maybe I should have been honored. To everypony but Gilda, she seemed like she was a war hero that just hadn’t been able to stop being a hero, even when that wasn’t what Equestria needed any more. Or, at least, not the princess. Maybe if Dash had been fighting along the firebreak this entire time, we wouldn’t need to evacuate Ponyville at all. There was a quiet knock at the door, and Gilda hissed quietly, “Got a mace, and I think I lost ‘em, but lemme in quick, there’s another patrol moving past soon.” Red pulled the door open, and Gilda ducked inside, with a gilded steel mace slung over her shoulder. It was ornate, but still looked deadly, and as she passed it to me, I nearly fell forward onto my face. It had been so long since I had swung that enchanted mace, in the ruins of Cloudsdale, that I’d forgotten just how heavy a weapon it was. Once I recalled that, I could at least heft the thing onto my back with one hoof, but was suddenly much less confident in my abilities to fight with a weapon that I had just picked up. Maybe I should have had Red and Gilda wait, so I could practice fighting with the mace a little more, maybe some friendly sparring, but Gilda had already turned back to the door. “C’mon, let’s do this!” Gilda took the lead once more as she pushed the knob down and peeked through. “They should have passed by already—” Immediately, she flinched back, and spat out a startled “Rut me!” A moment later a blade was jammed through the wooden frame of the door, which threw a spray of splinters into the room, and kept Gilda from slamming it shut. “They're coming through!” Gilda squawked as she drew her bow, and Red leapt over the couch he'd been dragging away just a moment ago, axe in hoof. I swung my own mace a few times experimentally—I'd just been musing about how I didn't have the time to practice, but it seemed as though I'd get that practice one way or another. I still couldn't get used to the sheer weight of the weapon, because it was so damned heavy, and all of that weight was so far away from the grip. But as long as I could get the momentum to swing it in a nice wide arc, then all of that weight would be perfect for dealing damage. The door exploded into shards of ancient wood, and the first pony through was a Hollowed stallion wearing golden guard plate, wielding a halberd. He had been the one to block the door with the tip of his weapon, which he now swung dangerously in a sweeping arc at head height, and both Gilda and I leapt back to avoid having our throats slashed. It was a clear intimidation tactic, I realized a moment later, which was designed to make room in a confined space. And Red didn't fall for it in the slightest. He dodged between us, under the sweeping arc of the halberd's blade, and rose like a serpent with his axe held high. His weight and the weight of his axe landed as one, causing the full force of Red's mass to focus onto the head of his weapon, which fell directly onto the armored shoulder of the first guard. He didn't stand a chance. Sparks scattered as metal struck metal, and black blood followed as the axe damn near cleaved the stallion in half. The halberd dropped as the stallion had, and both slammed into the carpet with a crash. The second golden guard had been hot on the first's hooves, but he flinched back as his ally was cut down like a weed. The third and final golden guard was a mare. She slammed into the armored rump of the second, having clearly not expected him to stop suddenly, and both were off-balance as a result. This was perfect for me and Gilda. We split up, each darting forwards around where Red was still busy hauling his axe out of the felled Hollow's torso. I engaged the stallion face-to-face, while Gilda struck the mare from the side. The Hollow stallion had rallied by the time I reached him, and so when I attacked with a wide horizontal sweep of my own, he raised his foreleg—to which a shield had been securely fastened, which easily deflected my blow up and away. The impact still staggered him, but I was staggered worse as I tried to get control of the mace once more. What I wanted to do was bring it back down on his head, but I found myself forced to rear back onto my hinds as the weight of the weapon tried to escape into the ceiling. I stumbled backwards, barely avoided a slash from the stallion's longsword, and finally managed to drive my mace downwards, which was too late to catch him. He easily ducked to the side, and my weapon hit the carpet with a resounding 'thud' which sounded as though it had cracked the stone underneath. It wanted to bounce up, and this time I didn't fight the weight, but gave the upwards bounce more power. That, finally, managed to catch the stallion off guard. The head of the mace slammed into his breastplate, then deflected to the side into his armored foreleg. There wasn't much power behind it, because it had still been an awkward attack, but he reeled, and I lowered my head for a charge. Once more I struck his shield, and I saw stars as my own helmeted head banged against the gilded steel. He swore at me in a Hollow growl, and I jabbed the spiked tip of the mace at him blindly around the shield, which seemed to impact against his breast again. I hadn't done any true damage to him, but I'd backed him up against the stone wall of the rec room, meaning he didn't have anywhere to run or dodge, and he could only barely swing his sword. Still, swing it he could, and he slammed the blade onto my back. My left wing stung as the steel edge dug into it, but I couldn't judge the damage now, except to know that he hadn't gotten through the armor covering my spine. I let out a feral snarl of my own, and grabbed my mace with both hooves before forcing it upwards. The move was stupid, because I couldn't see anything but the shield, and the pain had forced me to act on instinct. But it landed well enough to throw sparks off his armor as he stumbled, and his shield was pulled to the side as he tried to regain his balance. Now his helmet was exposed, and though I couldn't swing the full length of the mace, I managed to slam the grip of the weapon, and both my hooves, into the side of his helmet. Something crunched inside, and the stallion stiffened as he fell over. His sword was abandoned as his foreleg slapped at his helmet, trying to pull it off or perhaps feel out the extent of the damage. I suspected that I'd shattered his jaw, or maybe his cheekbone. It wasn't enough to kill him, but whatever I'd broken had clearly been debilitating. And it was enough to distract him, as I hefted the weight of my mace overhead one last time. He saw me, at the last moment—far too late to do anything to stop me. The best he could manage was to hold up one armored hoof in front of his face, to try and slow down the impact, but it didn't work. The steel head of the blunt weapon just forced his hoof to slam into his helmet instead, and the downwards arc of the swing meant that gravity kept forcing it down. His armor squealed as I pounded a deep dent into his helmet and leg barding, leaving an imprint of the latter on the former, and his head was forced against the stone under the carpet, where it found nowhere else to go. I yanked back the mace for another swing, if needed, but the first one may have done the job. His helmet was crushed inwards, and was maybe half the width it had been at the start of the fight. I was sure it had some space inside by design, to allow it to be worn comfortingly, but I'd compressed the metal into that space, and perhaps into his skull as well. He wasn't moving any more, I could tell that much. I felt movement behind me, and I spun to see if the mare had come to aid her friend—but it was just Red, who stepped back as I turned to face him with fire in my eyes. “Whoa! Simmer down, Gilda already kilt the other one.” I pushed the head of the mace into the carpet as I leaned on it, and breathed raggedly. Behind him, Gilda had just finished wiping off her hunting knife on her own face, leaving streaks of black blood under her eyes like warpaint. The mare was dead at her claws, with more of that blood soaking into the carpet—Gilda must have gotten the knife through the armor and into her neck. I wasn't even sure what the mare had for a weapon, but it seemed as though it hadn't mattered to our party. Red peered around me at the crumpled stallion, and nodded appreciatively. “Looks like he's down, but we should check anyhow.” Gilda looked up as she sheathed her knife again, and hopped over to us. I stumbled back a bit—all of a sudden, I could feel that cut on my wing more than ever, and I busied myself by drawing my flask of sunlight from the bottomless bag again to take a sip. Meanwhile, Gilda looked over my bloody work, and she clicked her beak approvingly as she started to try and get his helmet off. She struggled with it for a few moments, and the stallion under her gurgled and twitched as she twisted his flattened helmet around. “Ah, not dead yet.” Eventually she gave up on pulling his helmet off, and settled for stomping on his head a couple times, which caused a fresh gush of blood to squirt out of the visor with each stomp. The stallion's squirming ceased a moment later, so either Gilda had finished him off, or he'd decided it wasn't worth trying to move any more. Either worked just fine for us. Red winced, as Gilda started to kick the blood of her hind-paw. “Probably could've just slashed his throat too.” “Eh,” Gilda shrugged, as she curled up like a cat to lick the rest off. “Can't let Holly have all the fun crushin' skulls today.” I felt a little sick at that description, but Gilda was right, that was the fastest way to put a pony down using my mace. It probably wouldn't be the last time I did it, either. I hated myself for thinking it, but hopefully the next head would be less durable, so the pony wouldn't have to feel it. “Alrighty!” Gilda sat up and stretched one final time, before she started back towards the door for the final time. “Let's get out of here before the next patrol finds this mess. What rotten timing, right?” “Right,” Red agreed, and he clapped a massive hoof on my back supportively. “Let's get to the throne room.” * * * We avoided two patrols by ducking around corners, and Gilda had distracted another by flying away, then looping back around to meet up with us, but we'd avoided any further combat for the moment. Despite that, Gilda was positively giddy as we approached the great golden doors. Red and I didn't exactly share her enthusiasm—or perhaps "bloodlust" was the better term. Gilda had always been at her happiest throughout our adventures when she was fighting and killing, and I had the distinct feeling that if somepony gave her enough reason to do so, she'd happily stalk and hunt down every member of the golden guard here in the palace, just for the fun of it. As we approached the doors, Gilda had already started to push at one of them. “Come on, big guy. This is a two-person job, hauling these suckers open.” Red silently took up position on the other door, and I stood awkwardly in the middle, watching them both. After a moment, the great golden doors to the throne room began to open, revealing the grand hall beyond. Canterlot Palace had been ostentatious all the way through, as befitted the capital of the nation, and the center of power for a pair of goddesses that controlled the sun and the moon. The floors were smooth marble with carpets trailing inwards, all towards this doorway, and this room. Everything was built around this room, and every visitor and staff member made their way here eventually. The room was wider than the length of a ship's deck, and twice as long, if not more. Great stained-glass windows depicting the heroic acts of legends both modern and ancient filtered the light of the sunset into the room—and I winced as I recognized the Elements of Harmony, repeated a dozen times over. The wide red carpet ran the length of the room, all the way up to the two grand thrones, the seats of the sun and moon. Even the throne was ostentatious, as it was part platform, and part golden fountain, though the water no longer ran. Behind the thrones, two sets of stairs circled up to a platform, where another grand, golden door presumably led to the chambers of the Princesses. I halfway expected Rainbow Dash to be sitting in that throne, from all that I'd heard of her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Gilda seemed somewhere between disappointed and wary, and her eyes were high, as she scanned the ceiling for a knight lying in wait amidst the rafters. It wasn't a bad idea; the only other place that Rainbow Dash could be hiding inside the room would be behind a large rock, which sat to one side of the throne. It seemed oddly out-of-place; maybe it had fallen through a window during an avalanche in the past, and it had been more trouble than it was worth to break it up and get rid of it? Our attention was refocused in an instant when the doors on the other end of the hall opened, and an alicorn, wearing golden armor that seemed designed for speed, stepped out onto the platform, around the throne. The crest of her helmet was sleek and sliced backwards, but I could see a startlingly bright rainbow of colors in that crest. Even the golden armor seemed offensively bright, as it had been shined to a polish, and was gleaming in the light of the sunset. “Invaders!” the alicorn barked, with the voice of a mare—though that voice was naturally deep and raspy. Every word flowed with confidence, without even the slightest hint of a stutter that I'd come to associate with deep Hollowing. “You have delved too deeply into this place! Canterlot Palace is no dungeon to plunder, nor ruin to loot! It is the heart of this country, and—wait.” The alicorn mare put her hooves up onto the banister of the platform, and one pushed up her visor so she could see us clearly, as we approached. Inside her helmet, the mare had a blue coat that had resisted the fading of time, and a crop of rainbow mane that still threatened to cover her Hollowed eyes. But those eyes were the only signs of her own Hollowing, and her embers were bright as they looked us over. “Gilda? Big Mac? What the actual hay are you doing here?” “We, uh...we...” Red—or apparently, Big Mac?—stumbled over his words, as he looked away awkwardly. Rainbow Dash stared at me for a few moments more, as if trying to see if she recognized me as well, before she lost interest. “Seriously, Canterlot Palace is on lockdown. You're really not supposed to be in here, especially since you—“ she pointed a hoof at Red, “—are supposed to be banished. But it's still really good to see you both.” “...Likewise.” Red eventually mumbled. Gilda seemed as though she was trying to escape her own skin. Either she was nervous, angry, or just jumpy in general. But her gaze just kept flicking between me, Red, and Rainbow Dash. When she realized that none of us were going to make a move, she forced her gaze onto the alicorn, and clacked her beak. “We're...we're supposed to kill you.” Rainbow Dash burst out laughing. “Just like that, huh? Hello to you too, Gilda! I haven't seen you two in...stars, it must've been decades, if time mattered any more. I halfway expected you both to have died of old age or something out there, but you both look better than I do! And I look great!” Red slowly nodded. His hoof had been on his axe as we had all walked into the room, and up to the throne, but now he let it drop to the floor. He spoke half-heartedly, and there was no malice when he did. “She's...tellin' the truth, Dash. Had to fight our way up here, from Hammerhoof. Through the tunnels, then we got here and the palace staff told us you kicked 'em all out...” Dash's expression turned serious for a moment. “Oh. This is about the Princess, huh? I bet they're mad about that, but...look, they don't understand, okay? Frilly frou-frou nobles don't understand the security measures that we have to take these days. The world's dangerous these days—as I'm sure you all know.” I looked at myself, then the others. We were all wearing armor, from Red's rough hoof-made hide barding to my refurbished knight's armor, and we were all stained with blood, new and old. Some of it was ours, but most of it wasn't. Just minutes ago, we'd killed three guards because if we hadn't, they would've killed us instead. And that stuck out to me; as pleasant as she was being, those guards were Hollows that were just barely under Dash's control. She may not have done so directly, but she had ordered those Hollows to kill us. After a moment, Dash looked behind us, at the door. “Was that you guys that made that big commotion on the roof? I saw...I thought I saw the Wonderbolts flying away, but I...well, to be honest, I thought they were ghosts. Took me...longer than I'd like, to remember that Soarin', Silver Lining, and Windy Sky are still out there. Eventually I thought they must have been probing the defenses for some reason.” Red nodded. “They flew us in. Through the interdiction field.” “Whoa, really?” Dash looked genuinely surprised. “Damn, wish I'd seen that. Those old-timers might have preferred reserve, but they can still fly like nopony else. Kinda forgot about the interdiction field, that actually makes it more cool.” I couldn't help but agree with her—If I ever got the chance to use that staff of miracles again, the memory of that flight would be one of my happy memories, even if the fight immediately afterwards had soured it a bit. “Anyway, so lemme make sure I have this right.” Dash said, as she looked at all of us again. “You guys fought up here, past the lockdowns, then those dumb nobles told you to kill me, and the Wonderbolts decided to help you get in? Are you sure they didn't want you to kill the Princess, too? Because that'd be really easy if I wasn't here to keep her safe.” “Just you.” Raid said, with a nod. “I don't know, I could be convinced to add a pony princess or three to my hit list,” Gilda muttered. I gave her a bump with my shoulder, and she just glared at me. “Weird. Because...the orders are still going out, right? The Princess is still up there, still playing with the maps and the little chess pieces or whatever, and we're still getting reports via courier. Unless...” Rainbow Dash suddenly looked agitated. “Unless the stupid Hollows are just, I dunno, making things up for their reports.” I spoke up, for the first time. “D-don't think so. Did the P-Princess tell you that she w-wanted to evacuate P-Ponyville?” Dash just stared at me for a long few moments. “Who are you, exactly? Are you one of mine? Your uniform is golden guard, but it's a mess.” The way she said that made me wonder, just for a moment, if I could have snuck into the palace with a clean enough suit of armor. But then I'd be facing her all by myself, and I wondered if the only reason this conversation was as pleasant as it was might be because of Red and Gilda's presence. Without them, maybe Dash would have finished her speech, and then cut me down where I stood. “Anyway,” Dash continued, as I lowered my head. “I know about the whole 'evacuating Ponyville' plan, but we can't do it. Not now, not ever. I'm not going to just abandon my home, even if I'm stationed up here. The golden guard's just gonna have to fight harder.” I took a step forward. “Commander M-Magnus says they can't hold the t-town—“ “I don't give a flying feather what Magnus says!” Dash stomped the banister with her hoof, and the clack of her armored hoof against the marble echoed around the room. “We already lost Cloudsdale! And sure, maybe if you do some stupid math then he's got like a thousand years of experience on me, but we've both been fighting demons for the exact same amount of time!” “D-demons, and skeletons, and Ap-Applejack's mil—“ “Okay, that's it!” Dash slammed her visor down, then leapt over the banister. Her wings snapped open just enough to direct her fall, and she slammed down onto the marble floor less than a leg-length from me. I could see the bright flares of her embers through the visor of her helmet, burning with anger. “You say one more word about Applejack, my friend, and I'm gonna make you bite the curb! You don't know her! And maybe I don't entirely know what's going on with her right now exactly either, but shut up!” “Hey! Back off of Holly!” Gilda barked. I hadn't even realized it, but I'd been leaning back, trying to make myself look smaller, as Dash had been shouting at me. Dash blinked, then stepped back to look at Gilda. “And what the hay is the matter with you? You haven't said more than, like, six words this entire time! I mean, sun and wind, when Big Macintosh is talking more than you are, something's up.” Big Macintosh. That was Red's full name, then? Gilda glared at her like a hawk glaring at a mouse that had the sheer audacity to bite its claw. “Yeah, you could say that. Rutting moron.” Dash threw open her wings; it was an old pegasus instinct when threatened, to look larger, and to get ready for a fight. In modern times, it was a clear sign of exasperation and frustration. “Cool, great, thanks. What about you?” She glared at Red next. “Are you gonna start cursing me out too? Maybe tell me to go to Tartarus, or to stick my head in a toilet, or that all my friends are jerks?” Dash's eyes flicked back to Gilda. “Because one of them sure is!” Red coughed. “No. Ah just came here to talk to Princess Celestia, and t' get into the armory. Ah don't wanna fight you, not really.” “Oh, just to talk to Princess Celestia,” Dash repeated, in a sing-song tone of voice. “Yeah, that's not happening! Go home, maybe go help Applejack sort out her head.” I leaned forward again, and got back to my hooves. “We n-need to see the P-Princess. Even if we—“ I swallowed. I was pushing her, and us, all towards another fight. I didn't want to fight her. But conversation wasn't getting us anywhere. “—we have to g-go through you.” Dash took a full step back from the three of us. Through her visor, I could see her Hollow embers flicking between the three of us. “Alright. So that's how it's gonna be, huh?” Red nodded, with sadness in his eyes. Gilda looked like the hungry predator that she was. And I...I don't know. I just wanted this to end. I just wanted to talk to Princess Celestia, because I knew she could have kept us from taking up arms against each other. But she wasn't here now. Dash thumped the side of her helmet—maybe she was making sure she was fully awake, or maybe she was checking the fit, to make sure it was secure on her head—then nodded. “Alright. Lemme get my weapon.” Before we could move, she flapped her wings to leap into the air, and hopped up onto the boulder, to the side of the thrones. At first, I thought that the boulder had been so precariously set in place that even her weight was enough to cause it to rock, but that quickly proved not to be the case. The boulder moved, and I realized all too late that it wasn't a boulder, but a living creature. “Hey, Tank! Wake up and gimme my spear, we've got work to do!”