Bad Mondays

by Handyman

Chapter 35 - The Lady of the Lake

It had all been going so well too. That didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered – they were all dead men standing.

Thorax was the first to go, transformed into an immaculate glass replica of herself from hooves to horn. The transformation occurred just slowly enough for her to realize what was happening, for the horror etched in her face to be immortalized as she was turned into a solid glass statue. She had been balanced on three feet and was in danger of falling, shattering irrevocably into a hundred million pieces of glass had Jacques not caught her in his forelegs. His scream of outrage was silenced forever as he was transformed instantaneously into glass, the two sculptures that used to be their friends balanced against one another, leaving the two of them alone in their futility in facing down what amounted to a god.

It had been so simple at first that it was funny. Handy had met up with three of them, descending a spiral staircase to a small room where they had been trying to open a heavy, black, iron door with details of swans flying over a river imprinted upon the metal. There had been a lever they had failed to move. They had exchanged pleasantries and banter, Handy feigning ignorance of knowing anything about that sound of a collapsing cavern they had all heard as he leant a hand to the task, only to have the lever frustrate their efforts by refusing to budge no matter how much might and magic and swearing was applied to it. And then Thorax embarrassed them all by simply pushing the already opened door open.

There had been laughter and sighing and they had all exited the room and entered into a vast domed room. The room had been the remnants of an ancient round tower that had connected to the domed roof that had collapsed in on itself, a much greater distance from ceiling to the ground they now stood on than was likely to have been traversed when they had descended the staircase. That was, of course, impossible – a quick walk back inside and looking up the spiral staircase proved it was in fact still intact and quite definitely underground. More to the point, outside it seemed they were on or near the surface yet again – more of the strange magic of these ruins at play it seemed. The domed roof was cracked and collapsed in places, and streams of glittering moonlight poured into the room. They hadn’t been below ground that long, had they? Garlands of flowering vines hung from the edges of these holes, reaching almost all the way down to the surface of the vast lake that filled the room and beyond it.

The ground they stood upon was clearly artificial judging by the flagstones, but it was so ancient that most of had been covered in tufts of grass as earth had gathered over its surface. The once flat surface had convulsed in ages past, leaving little islands of stone work and grass throughout the room as the shallow lake covered the rest. At the far end of the room, highlighted by moonlight, sat a ruined throne. It was a construction of onyx and gnarled oak wood that looked like it had been broken down the middle, as if some giant had grabbed either side of it and tore it apart and it had split almost neatly in two. A small willow tree had grown behind it, trapped between it and the wall. Its branches reached up and around it, swaying wistfully on an almost imperceptible wind, hiding the shattered throne behind a veil of leaves.

They hadn’t noticed her at first, the Lady of the Lake. She had glided silently across the water, her movements barely so much as disturbing the shimmering liquid. She was a tall being, easily ten, twelve feet in height, her lithe body wrapped in a shining dress that shone with an intense yet gentle light. Four long, spindly arms hung from her torso all the way to the hem of her dress. Each ‘hand’ bore two digits that trailed the surface of the water and caused ripples that disturbed the floating lilies and sent the small, blue, incandescent insects that had made their beds among them into the air. Her skin was the same shimmering blue as her dress and easily as bright. Her elongated head came to a pointed chin and bore no other facial features beyond nine oval-shaped eyes. The white depths of those eyes were all the more noticeable for their stark contrast with the rest of her, four down each side of her face with one in the centre. Two long, pointed ears trailed off to what could only be described as antennae that came off the points and hung from her head, golden orbs glowing at their very ends. Her hair shone like the rest of her body, but flowed and weaved through the air in long, lazy undulations as if she were underwater.

She had approached them from behind, gliding around the ruined tower they had emerged from that lay near the centre of the great hall. Whirlwind had stumbled to a stop when he noticed her, hurriedly falling to the ground in supplication while the rest of them simply stood and stared at her in awe. The lady came to a stop before them and regarded them all silently for a long moment before speaking as she inclined her head to Whirlwind.

“Faithless, why have you trespassed upon my home?”

Her voice was beautiful, a sound of dewfall on stained glass during a bright summer’s morning. Whirlwind stumbled back to his hooves, tripping over his own words to answer her.

“I-I, that is, I’m here to aheh, to become the next Lord in Winter, your ladyship,” he managed, though it was evident even through his smile that the deer was scared out of his mind of this being.

Handy was slightly unnerved. Her presence was peaceful, calming even. He knew intellectually of course that she was dangerous – he’d yet to come across anything in this forest that wasn’t – but she was not attacking them. And he sincerely doubted any of them were stupid enough to insult her or otherwise give her cause to do so. Yet even still, he could tell she regarded the deer coolly even though her expressionless, alien face gave no indication as such.

“No. I shall not crown you as such, and there shall nevermore be a Lord in Winter. Take your trinket and leave me before I find offence in your presence.”

Her voice bore no malice and her inflection didn’t change from that pleasant gentleness from before, but the finality of her words weighed heavily upon them all the same. Whirlwind sputtered.

“My lady, please! Y-You can’t do that, my people—”

“Are faithless oath breakers.” She levelled one of her fingers at the deer, and he stepped back. “Your predecessor broke faith; he awoke in spring and fled the forest with the crown and its magicks. So I took it from him when he needed its power most. I have extinguished the Hearthfire, and all the boons I have gifted your race I have taken back. Your tribes will lose their Hartsight; your mages will stumble in their incantations; the forest will turn against you, and you will know plague and famine the likes of which you have never seen. This is the fate you have earned, and I shall not lift my hand to so much as ease your passing. Even this short visit has left me weary of you and your fetid kind. Leave me and take these pets of yours with you.”

And with that, the Lady turned, slowly gliding across the water, her gentle voice casually damning an entire race to starvation and death as easily as one might brush down one’s coat of dust. Whirlwind looked utterly distraught. Whereas before he had been depressed at the thought of giving up his life and his freedom, now he was faced with the terrifying prospect of not even being able to do that and watch as his people die because of his failure. He fell back on his haunches, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the words to beg the spirit to change her mind.

“Pets?” Thorax asked, her voice low. Whirlwind turned to her, eyes widening in alarm. “We aren’t his pe—” She stopped as she looked down at her hooves in confusion, suddenly unable to feel them anymore. Where once had been the red furred fetlocks of Crimson, there now stood glass hooves. The glass expanded, creeping up along her body, turning more and more of her to glass. Bit by bit, Thorax felt terrifying nothingness where her flesh and blood had once been. Her breath caught in her throat as the horrifying reality came across her. She tried to scream, but the magic had already reached her throat before encompassing her head, completely her transformation into a glass sculpture, utterly transparent and horrifically lifelike. Handy stood there in shock as he watched the changeling die before his eyes for doing nothing more than speaking out of turn.

Jacques let out a shout of alarm and leapt forward, catching Thorax’s statue before it fell over and shattered on the ground. He turned to shout a hateful curse at the Lady before he too was petrified into glass. Handy just… stood there, unsure of what to do. In one instant, their little party had been halved. The Lady merely stood there on the water, her four ‘hands’ clasped in front of her in a contemplative gesture as she looked sideways at the little group of mortals. Handy felt his skin crawl when he realized her eyes laid on him expectantly.

“Wh-What did you—?” He stopped as he felt something… strange. His feet were cold, or more accurately he simply couldn’t feel them as a strange sensation washed over the rest of his body and a blinding light shone from where he stood. He looked down in horror, glimpsing through the glaring light the grass of the ground which he could clearly see through his own foot.

“No!” Whirlwind shouted, rounding and throwing himself to the ground before the Lady, who only let out an annoyed sound as she continued staring at the human. “Please don’t! You don’t have to; they don’t know any better! Please! Please turn them back!”

“Whirlwind, wh-what’s going on. I-I can’t… I can’t feel anything below my shins.”

“Shut up, just shut up, Handy, please don’t talk!” Whirlwind pleaded.

“This is taking longer than anticipated,” the lady mused, eyeing the flashing light as whatever magic she was using turned both Handy and his armour into glass. Its properties had proven wildly inconsistent before, but this was a whole other level. With Discord and old magic, it was capable of stopping it dead in its tracks. With the forest and enchantments, it proved to be no defence whatsoever, and with the Lady, it appeared to only slow her magic down to a crawl but not much more. This would doubtlessly be a fascinating case study of the effects and comparison of different kinds of magic upon the same magically resistant material to anyone with the knowledge of inclination to care about such things. To Handy, however, it was yet another reason why he was of the opinion that whatever he paid Heat Source, it clearly wasn’t enough. He struggled to move but only succeeded in falling over and landing on his backside with a clatter, more and more of his legs transforming into glass as he watched on in morbid fascination.

“Please, Lady Ashaia, I beg of you. I throw myself at your mercy. Please release my friends, please at least do that.”

“Are you still here?” she asked as she turned languidly to the deer, floating over closer to their little island, the pale darkness of the room tinted blue in the reflected moonlight. “Perhaps I was not clear, or perhaps you are merely as ignorant as all your kind. It matters not anymore.”

Her central eye blinked once and Whirlwind gasped. Slowly, perhaps purposefully so, his hooves in their turn turned to glass before his eyes, and he scrambled back to his feet before crumpling into a ball and whimpering as the torturously slow reality of petrification crept up his legs. Imagine the blood in your veins pumping around your body. It was such a natural intrinsic feeling to your existence that you did not really notice it unless you were specifically paying attention. But this reality of your bodily functions along with many others were brought into terrifying clarity when you felt your blood pump down your leg, the feeling of it leaving your body as it reached the point where blood vessels met solid glass and disappeared into nothingness, only to feel the shocking sensation of blood shooting up one’s vessels on its return trip, as if entering the body anew coming out of the point where the glass met flesh. It was an utterly alien sensation and even stranger to watch which, fortunately, Handy was unable to at his current seated angle. He merely had to live with the sensations and try his best to rationalize it. He failed.

“The forest will return to what it once was before your kind ever blighted it, and I shall be left to my peace, nevermore to be bothered by your pathetic mewling.” Handy looked up to her, his breathing now harried as he tried scooting backwards. His legs were entirely transformed now, leaving him only his arms to carry him. He bumped into something and looked back to see the frozen visages of Thorax and Jacques facing the Lady. “You and your pets shall make better decorations than you ever made as living beings, beautifying my lake and providing a welcome perch for the birds when they roost here in the spring.”

Whirlwind was silent, his expression pained as he lay there, watching his body slowly turn into all too fragile glass. It was cruel, Handy thought, that she was doing that. In his case, he had some insurance that was preventing him from immediately being glassed. In Whirl’s, she was deliberately taking her time.

“Perhaps a few millennia as a sculpture will teach you the proper understanding of things and a greater appreciation of this forest and its ways, provided I do not let the forest have its way and simply reduce you to dust.” Handy clenched his fists as he listened to the spirit drone on. “Only then will you mortals appreciate your place in life.”

“Fuck you, fuck this forest, and you can take your shit and shove it back up your own arse where it belongs you pretentious, ethereal, elven WHORE!” Handy snapped. The spirit turned to him silently. Whirlwind’s head snapped up and his face blanched. Even the magic which was transforming him paused where it held about his waist. Everything was very, very, very still, with only the rustling of the willow leaves daring to break the deathly silence. Handy took the opportunity to throw off his helmet in order to look upon the Lady of the Lake in disclosed contempt.

“What did you say to me, little thing?” she asked calmly, her voice still the same gentle tone as before but with a clear strain behind the words.

“Handy, what are you doing!?” Whirlwind whispered.

“Shut up.”

“You’re going t—”

“Whirlwind, for once in your life, shut the fuck up!” Handy snarled. “And you!”

Ashaia glided across the water but did not cross its edge to step onto the land. “Yes?”

“You are a coward,” Handy spat. All nine of her eyes blinked simultaneously but otherwise she didn’t so much as flinch. He supposed that was as close as he was going to get when it came from eliciting a surprised reaction from her.

“Pray tell, how exactly am I a coward, hmm?” she asked, leaning down. She towered over the human, even if he hadn’t been seated as he was, paralyzed on the ground. Now with her there, he felt a rising, primal fear, like that of primitive men fearing the sound of thunder as lightning split the sky. It was an instinctual reaction and one that told you it was best to placate and soothe rather than anger something much greater than you. Perhaps it had been because he had been cowering in fear too long, hiding in the shadow of the deer for protection from the forest and he felt the need to rebel, to lash out at the darkness around him. Perhaps it was simply pride talking, after having suffered indignity upon indignity, a veritable conga line of humiliation ever since the tournament when that damned earth pony had knocked him clear across fifteen feet and he had gone out like a light. Perhaps it really was fear, causing him to think and act irrationally. He was certainly more than acquainted with it recently, more than he ever cared to and never planned on being again.

Again, perhaps it was his recent victory over those horrors in the ballroom where the waltzing ghosts had kept them imprisoned and where every sense told him that he was doomed, thus emboldening him. It mattered not. The time for reason had long since passed; the time for fear had long since passed. Two of his companions were effectively dead, soon he and Whirlwind would join , and this spirit, this Lady of the Lake was crooning to them, chastising them for doing something as audacious as asking a question. And that made Handy mad, mad enough to throw all sense to the wind and challenge a petty godling in their own home.

“Because for all your talk and for all your power, you waste time locked away in this shallow lake in these ruins, hiding from the entire world, and yet you condemn brave people like Whirlwind here to a slow torture for risking his life trying to save his people and his friends? You’re worse than a monster – you are a waste of time.” Whirlwind simply groaned and laid his head down on his glass hooves, screwing his eyes shut.

“I have no need to leave my home, creature,” Ashaia said, low and dangerous, the white ovals of her eyes bearing down on the human with an almost oppressive force, the magic once again slowly chewing its way up his torso. Pretty soon, Handy realised, he was going to have to worry about the feeling of breathing while being unable to move his lungs.

“Oh forgive me, I didn’t realize I was speaking to a fellow recluse. Tell me, am I wrong in thinking you’re a coward or are you so utterly inept that the only lake you’re capable of ruling over like a goddess is one that barely comes up to my ankles? I didn’t know spirits could get embarrassed. What must all your friends say behind your back? You do have friends, right?”

“Oh gods above…” Whirlwind muttered. Two incredibly long arms reached out and clasped either side of Handy’s head, the long fingers interlocking over his head. Her hands felt like ice, and his skin burned from where they made contact. Handy couldn’t move, the rest of his non-petrified body frozen in paralysis. She leaned down to where her face lay less than half a metre from his own, which was all the more impressive given she had to lean more than five feet from the water’s edge to get that close.

“Perhaps you’d rather I end you now and leave your corpse to feed the earth. Perhaps you are not a very bright creature and I’d be doing the world a favour,” she said softly, almost contemplatively.

“Perhaps…” Handy began, feeling the pressure on his head build imperceptibly. Whatever foolish curse was going to say died on his lips however, when he saw what was walking upon the water by Ashaia’s side. It was there again, the White Stag. Its hooves broke the water, silent ripples washing across the shore of their island as it walked out from the edge of his vision. Its radiance had dimmed somewhat, looking for all the world like any other albino stag from his world with the exception being its black eyes. It stopped and turned to look at Handy as the human returned its gaze. If Ashaia was aware of the stag’s presence, she made no sign of it as it stayed perfectly still by her side. That same familiar yet strange reassurance radiated from it, and for the briefest of moments, Handy’s mind cleared.

“Rituals and vows are specific. Know the right loopholes..." the voice of Forestfire ran through his head as the seeds of an idea were sown in his mind. He thought back about everything he had learned. The deer had no kings because their pact broke that tradition. However, they had lords who were crowned and were recognised by all the tribes but wielded no authority, real or imagined. “You must be as the wind and ne'er know stillness for as long as ye shalt wear thy crown.” He yelped in pain as the pressure increased on his head, yet even that pain did not slow down the thought process.

“Perhaps you should probably be hoisting yourself for breaking your own pact,” he said. The pressure stopped as the spirit paused.

“What?”

“You call the deer faithless, correct? Because Whirlwind’s predecessor left the forest and woke up in spring, right?”

“This is accurate.”

“Then why did you let him?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why did you let him wake up? Your magic runs the crown – you said as much yourself – and you said he woke up. That meant he fulfilled his duty and went to sleep when winter ended.”

“Yes and then he awoke.”

“How?”

“Do not test me, creature! You waste my time with these questions.”

“I— Urk, don’t think I am.” Yeah, that piercing pain Handy felt? That was his diaphragm turning to glass. “Lords sleep for most of the year – they have to. That means it’s magically induced. Are you saying that a lone deer’s magic, Hartsight or no Hartsight, is capable of overcoming your power?”

“Of course it isn’t!”

“Then pray tell, madam, exactly how did this lone buck break through your magic, wake up, and thus break your pact with the deer?” Handy asked pointedly. The spirit was very, very quiet for a moment, and he took in a celebratory breath of air as the glass ceased in its advance across his flesh. This close to his face, and now that his eyesight was used to the pale glow of her skin, he could see her eyes moving. He couldn’t make out enough detail in the white orbs to tell what she was looking at or determine emotion, but he liked to think he was beginning to sow the seeds on uncertainty. He allowed himself a small smile. ‘Alright, Chrysalis, you say I’m like changelings? Let’s hope you’re right and I can pull this off.’

“He didn’t, did he? Something else did, something else woke him up; something else broke his pact, didn’t it?” Handy led on. Whirlwind was now looking up, ears perked as his eyes passed between Handy and Ashaia. Handy was arguing on behalf of the deer using only the most rudimentary of logic based on partial information of a vast and ancient ritualistic covenant he knew jack shit about. So far, however, he had gotten Ashaia’s attention and seemed to be onto something by sussing that it wasn’t the deer who broke the deal. The only other logical conclusion was that it was the spirit herself who broke it, but accusing her of such was beyond stupid, so he offered an alternative, a way for her to save face. This was a dangerous game he was playing and he knew it, but when the stakes were the possibility of death or an eternity as a glass sculpture, you took the dangerous risk. “Because if it wasn’t you that broke your pact, it had to be something else didn’t it? Therefore, it was nobody’s fault.”

He let out another yelp as the pressure returned to the sides of his head. “I will not be tricked by you, human. The pact is broken either way. The fate of the deer is sealed.”

“So, hrgh, it is your fault then?”

“I do not go back on my word, whelp!” her voice like shattering glass.

“Then why are you punishing the deer when they did not go back on theirs!?” he shouted, screwing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth with the pain. Thankfully, she seemed too preoccupied with her anger that she didn’t resume her petrification.

“He’s right…” Ashaia snapped her head around to face Whirlwind, who flinched but kept his gaze level with hers even as he swallowed. “We-We haven’t broken the pact. The last Lord only woke because something woke him up. He only left the forest to put an end to a threat to it, to stop something that could overcome your magic!” Whirlwind said excitedly. However, his exuberance wilted under the cold gaze of Ashaia. At least she wasn’t pressing harder on Handy’s head. Now, if only he could talk her into easing up.

“And?” she asked. “The pact is broken. I will not crown another lord, and you pests still trespass on my home. Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed!” Whirlwind shouted, raising his neck as high as he could. Most of his lower body and chest had been transformed to glass, and only his upper back, neck, and head had escaped for now. “You failed!”

“What!?” Handy was momentarily blinded as Ashaia’s eyes exploded with light. He felt the pressure leave the sides of his head and the artificial paralysis imposed on his non-petrified body left him. Good man Whirlwind. Distract that ancient forest spirit while Handy caught his breath, there’s a good lad. “I do not fail!”

“You allowed the pact to be broken. You failed us! You failed us, then you damn us and turn my friends to glass just to cover up for your insipid pride!” Ashaia hissed dangerously, two arms reaching out and grabbing his antlers, the remaining two grabbing the sides of his head in the same fashion she had Handy. It seemed as if she planned on slowly pulling the antlers apart while simultaneously crushing his head like a grape. “Handy’s ri-right, you are a coward!”

It had felt like an eternity but eventually she relented. Had she actually intended to destroy their heads, Handy felt she could have done so effortlessly. He certainly felt the power she was holding back when she had his head in her claws. Her arms returned to her sides as she returned to her full height without speaking a word.

‘Okay, step one achieved: I’m still breathing. Now to work on steps two through seven.’

Handy looked up at the spirit, who was looking off into the distance. He looked down at where the stag had been and found it had actually moved away, walking towards the broken throne before turning around and watching him. Ashaia still had not reacted to its presence, and Handy got the distinct impression he should not draw attention to it. It had helped him before even though he was not sure why. Was it helping now?

“You owe them,” he blurted out. Ashaia turned to look down at him, and he blinked as his brain caught up with what he said. “I mean, you did not break the pact, but you did fail to upkeep it. It’s not the same level of crime. Perhaps…” He looked over to Whirlwind hopefully. “Perhaps you could renew it? Make a new agreement, one that is perhaps more fair?”

“Why would I want to? It is no gain for me. Even if it is as you say, mortal, this is an embarrassment I can live with as his people die.” Whirlwind winced at that. Handy‘s mind raced as he sensed he was losing the momentum they had gained. They had managed to talk her down from murdering them, and she had at least paused in turning them to glass, but that only bought them time.

“D-Don’t you care?” Whirlwind asked.

“No.”

“Then why did you agree to it in the first place?” Handy asked. “If winter does not bother you, the deer have no power over you, and you don’t even particularly like them. Why did you make the pact in the first place?” She did not answer for a full minute.

“A flight of whimsy overcame me. It was little effort on my part, and they provided distraction at the time. But they had also found me in a foul mood, which was why I put the ban on their kingship and provided the rules that bound their lords.”

“Yet they wear a crown.”

“So?”

“You crown the lords in winter. You have authority over the deer.”

“Yes, this goes almost without saying.”

“So you’re their queen. The Lords are your viceroys.” She honestly blinked at that. “The deer don’t have a king because you don’t have one. You are the queen of all the deer.”

“Preposterous!”

“And your own rules are what got us into this mess in the first place. Because your lords were bound to sleep all year and because you barred them from leaving the forest, they could not act in your best interests and that of their people and uncover what could possibly breech your magic. Because something powerful enough to break through the ancient ritual magic of a spirit such as you in the heart of the Greenwoods is certainly something worth investigating, isn’t it?” Handy powered on. He felt he was close to nailing this and he had the spirit’s full attention. “So you are wrong, we do in fact have something to offer you. Whirlwind here is to be the next lord, chosen by the tribes of the deer. Crown him, and once his winter duties are through, he can find what disturbed your magic. Right, Whirlwind?”

“What?” Whirlwind snapped his attention back to Handy, who was trying admirably to breathe now that part of his lungs was effectively glass. Now, the spirit’s curse might not kill them outright, otherwise their hearts would probably explode from all the blood that should be running into glass panes, but that did not make his organic lungs any more comfortable trying to expand and contract with limited freedom of movement. “Oh. Oh yes! Yes, I would gladly do that!”

“Silence! I don’t need you; I can find out the cause myself!”

“So why haven’t you?” Handy asked, only to be met with silence and the stern gaze of the great spirit. “You can’t, can you? These rituals, these entire ruins, the ghosts, whatever weird magic transports us from one place to the next from merely walking through an open doorway… you’re trapped here, aren’t you?”

“You are treading a fine line, creature. I do not care for your tone.”

“But that’s okay!” Handy quickly held up a placating hand while suppressing the desire to smile. He had her; he could feel he had the upper hand here for once “Whirlwind will do the work for you… You just have to make a new arrangement: make him the Lord in Winter and allow him to remain awake during the year… and leave the forest.”

Whirlwind’s eyes widened as the enormity of what Handy was suggesting dawned upon him, and he looked back at the spirit. That was appropriate, Handy thought, since he probably actually knew all the consequences of what he was proposing, unlike himself. Ashaia was silent for a good long moment, all of which was exceedingly uncomfortable for the two mortals present, particularly Handy, who had to deal with his armour burning brightly and nearly blinding him if he didn’t keep his eyes constantly squinted. At last he heard her sigh, the sound of wind blowing across a meadow, and he gasped. The magical grip released him, and he felt warmth and feeling return to the parts of his body that had been petrified returned to flesh. He let himself remain seated on the ground for a moment as pins and needles erupted across his lower abdomen and legs. Whirlwind, on the other hand, wasted no time stumbling back to his hooves.

“It is not that simple,” she said evenly, gliding across the water. He actually sat up in alarm and scrambled to his feet when he saw her draw nearer to the spot in the water where the White Stag stood before the throne, almost knocking over the still petrified ponies. Ashaia simply seemed to pass through it as if it wasn’t even there, not so much as acknowledging it or even noticing the disturbed water where it stood. Handy simply blinked in confusion at the sight. “There is power in kingship. Even if a king has no real authority, they are a symbol, a physical representation of the past, present, and the future of a people. A pact like this cannot be made without one.”

Handy looked at Whirlwind for confirmation, but he merely shrugged. “Then why make it so the deer couldn’t have any future kings?”

“I never expected this to become a problem,” she said simply. “Also, I felt like it at the time.”

‘Of course you did,’ Handy thought bitterly. All that work only to be turned away because the deer didn’t have a king. He supposed they could just return to the city and tell Forestfire what happened. Then the deer could convene and elect themselves a king… and probably fight amongst themselves over which tribe the king should come from. That was going to take a lot longer than winter to resolve, and by then it would be too late.

“Will any king do?” he asked suddenly. He glanced at the White Stag who still stood between them expectantly. Ashaia looked back at him in surprise. Her hands were clasped in front of her once again.

“It need only be a king.”

“And what does he need to do?”

“Bear witness.”

“…That’s it? He just needs to watch?”

“Erm… Handy, ‘to bear witness’ means the king needs to speak and acknowledge the ritual,” Whirlwind clarified. Handy rubbed his jaw in thought.

“And despite being their effective queen, you can’t do it?”

“No,” Ashaia answered. “I perform the ritual.”

“…Well okay then, hop to it. I guess we can get this show on the road.” And for the third time in the space of an hour, Handy caused a spirit that was immeasurably older than him to blink in surprise.

“…Are you saying that you are a king, creature?”

“My name is Handy, I’m a human, and no. No, I am not,” Handy said, scratching his chin before clearing his throat and speaking in the official manner he had been taught by Ivorybeak. Once upon a time, Handy wondered how far he could abuse the power vested in him by his friend without betraying his trust. This might be one such abuse, but time would tell, “I am however, the Sword of the King. I speak with the authority of King Johan the Blackwing of the Kingdom of Gethrenia, first of his name, the warden of the North-western passage and vassal of High King Aleksander, the Ironclaw of Griffonia.”

“Where I tread, I bring his sword and his law. In this person, my word is his word and when I speak, it will be as from the beak of the king himself,” Handy finished. Whirlwind just gawped before turning to Ashaia.

“Can… Can he do that?” the deer asked.

“…It will suffice,” Ashaia conceded, regarding the two of them thoughtfully. “If what you claim is true, human, and you are truly this king’s ‘sword’, then the ritual can be performed. I need only for you to acknowledge the first crowning. All others will be performed in that understanding. But be so warned, Handy of Gethrenia, if Whirlwind ap Whisperwood fails in his duties as lord, then not only his people will suffer my wrath, your kingdom will as well.”

Handy paused. What had once seemed like a brilliant idea now seemed altogether too reckless. He looked hard at Whirlwind, thinking. If he went through with this, he would effectively be entrusting his entire kingdom and everyone within it to this… utter clown of a stag to track down whatever the previous lord in winter had been hunting. Sure, if he fucked up, his people would suffer as well, so he had every incentive to succeed. But if he didn’t, then the new pact could not be made, there would be no Lord in Winter, the deer would be decimated by the season, the Hearthfire would remain unlit so their magic would fade, and the forest would turn against those who remained. “Excuse me for a moment.”

He walked over and knelt down so he was face to face with the stag. “Listen, Whirlwind.”

“Yeah?” The deer smiled, altogether too happy with how this was turning out. His smile shrank when he saw the hard glint in Handy’s eyes.

“Swear to me, right here and now. Swear to me you will find whatever broke the covenant or die trying.”

“Handy wh—”

“Do not. Fuck around with me. On this,” he managed through gritted teeth. “I promised Forestfire I would look out for you and keep you safe. I have risked life and limb accompanying you here, and now in order to help you fulfil your fucking ordained role and for us all to get out of here alive, I am putting my entire kingdom at risk. Swear to me right now that you will do this, not just try, but succeed. Do it or I walk.”

“…I-I swear.”

“Do better than that.”

“I swear! I swear by the gods!”

“Fuck your gods! Swear by mine!” Handy nearly hissed.

“I swear! For the sake of the ancestors, Handy!” Whirlwind wilted, looking hurt. Handy’s hard gaze did not let up until he was satisfied by what he saw in the deer’s eyes.

“Alright then. I’ll take that.” He gently laid a hand on Whirlwind’s shoulder and gave it a few light taps before he stood up and face Ashaia, who had watched the display impassively. The White Stag had moved, now behind Ashaia, to the right hand side of the broken throne near a broken portion of the wall behind the willow tree that he hadn’t noticed before. It still went unnoticed by the others. Whirlwind not noticing he could get over, but the fact Ashaia didn’t even seem aware of its presence was just unsettling. “Let’s begin. Just let me know what I need to do.”

“You only need to speak with the authority of your king, recognising Whirlwind’s ascension,” Ashaia said. “Step into the water, deer born.”

Whirlwind complied with the command and strode into the water. The shallow lake shimmered in reflected moonlight as Handy looked on. It was a surprisingly brief affair but magnificent nonetheless. Water lifted into the air around him in a circle as concentric tendrils of liquid rose up and spiralled slowly around him. The water lit up with a greenish-blue incandescence as his antlers’ carvings shone, an aura of golden magic expanding from it like an expanding cloud of gas. When it met with the water surrounding him, the room shook. A beam of light erupted from where he met the water and shot through the roof, portions of it breaking off and falling into the water as the building groaned. Well, that certainly answered where all the holes in the ceiling came from at least.

Ashaia had her arms outstretched, her face impossible to see as it was absorbed in a blinding light emanating from it. Handy had to cover his eyes for most of the ritual, but he could hear the two converse in low, ominous tones in a language he couldn’t understand. He suspected for his part that he didn’t need to understand, only bare witness. The magic in the air was electrifying, and he felt his heart pump faster, his armour maintaining a dim luminescence as the ambient magic became far too omnipresent and oppressive for it to ignore. He struggled to keep his eyes on the magical display, but it hurt to look at.

Finally, with the smell of burning air and a loud snapping sound, the magic dissipated. He saw the form of the stag drop from the air and splash into the water of the lake, limp and lifeless. Handy almost took a step forward before a sharp look from Ashaia stopped him in his tracks. Whirlwind eventually shifted, struggling back to his hooves on shaky limbs. He seemed… different somehow, bigger perhaps. More whole. He saw the saddlebags on Whirlwind’s side open as the crown was lifted from it. The burlap cloth covering it was unravelled and discarded. The bundle of silvery chains and the precious gems encrusted along their lengths shimmered in the moonlight as it hovered in the air above the stag. Only then did Handy notice that the spirit’s magic had no apparent aura when it used it unlike almost everyone else he had seen use magic. Curious.

Ashaia spoke in low tones and was answered by Whirlwind. The ‘crown’ was lowered, and the silver chains spread out and wrapped themselves around the stag’s antlers, the chains conforming to the grooves along the bony structures. They flashed a bright white then a soft golden colour as power washed over him. Before their eyes, his nut-brown coat changed and bore soft shades of autumnal red and brown. You could still see the original colour of his fur at the roots, but towards the end of each follicle, the colour changed to those associated with autumn. Ashaia then looked up at Handy expectantly, and the human was almost caught off guard. He coughed and drew up his hammer and held it in the air in a salute, unsure of the exact words he should say. He opted to keep his speech short.

“In the name of King Johan Blackwing of Gethrenia, the Lord of Winter has ascended.” He immediately felt a lurching feeling, as if something left him, and he had to fight to remain steady on his feet. Ashaia nodded and Handy felt relieved that the words sufficed. He could not shake the feeling of nervousness of what he had just committed Johan’s kingdom to. He hoped he would never have to find out. If Whirlwind succeeded, he would never have to. He’d just have to trust the stag for now despite his misgivings.

Whirlwind rose to his full height, facing the spirit. Ashaia remained for a moment longer before sighing at the unspoken request. She waved her hands, and Handy turned when he heard yelping from behind him. Thorax had collapsed into the surprised grasp of Jacques as both of them returned to normal. She hurriedly extricated herself from his grip but promptly fell on the ground after losing her balance.

“And the Hearthfire?” the surprisingly authoritative voice of Whirlwind enquired. Without a word, Ashaia nodded. A small white-blue flame erupted behind her, hovering in place beneath the swaying branches of the willow upon the seat of the broken throne. It was subtle at first, but the effects were otherwise immediate. A wave of sparkling energy spread out from the fire, spreading across all the surfaces of the room. Everything came into sharper focus, more colourful. The pool of water seemed to become clearer, the lilies in the water blooming in the moonlight, the very grass they stood upon becoming greener. Forestfire was right. When the Hearthfire was lit, you would notice it. Hell, you could feel it.

“We are concluded here,” Ashaia said with finality. She crossed all four of her arms across her chest. “I await your success, your lordship. Do not fail me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Whirlwind said, his cheerful tone slowly creeping back into his voice. Ashaia merely nodded once more and… promptly descended into the lake? She just sank into the water, disappearing into nothingness without so much as causing a single ripple. Handy had little time to reflect on it before he was tackled from behind.

“Mon ami! You’re alright!” Jacques shouted, grabbing Handy around the midsection. Surprised, Handy stumbled.

“Get off!”

“No no, hugs! It is time to celebrate no longer being glass! I saw everything!”

“Will you just let— Everything? You were still aware while turned to glass?”

“Yes,” Thorax said from her spot on the ground. Trembling, she had yet to get over the same pins and needles they had all felt after de-petrifying. “We saw you talk her down… Thanks.”

“Y—” He was interrupted and bowled over completely to the ground by the ball of exuberance known as Whirlwind, who had tried to keep a calm dignified manner after having been crowned. But that lasted all of five seconds before he bounded completely over to his friends and turned what had been an unwelcome friendly hug into a proper dog pile.

It took Handy a few minutes to untangle himself from the two of them as they promptly began happily chatting with one another. He brushed himself down as Whirlwind burst into a detailed explanation of everything that had happened during the ritual. Handy did not bother listening, instead looking around to try to find the White Stag again. He saw it where it last stood beside the throne as it turned away and walked through the gap in the wall. Taking one last look at his companions and a tentative step into the water to ensure Ashaia wouldn’t pop out and glass his ass again, he left the three of them to their discussion and followed it.

--=--

The gap in the wall led outside. He followed the stag at an even pace through more ankle deep water, then up a hill and down again, until he was led to a grove. It perhaps was once a garden, judging by the broken stone benches covered in plant life, but that hardly mattered now. The White Stag had stopped in the middle of it and pawed at the ground with a hoof and a snort, disturbing the earth and seemingly moving something hidden beneath the moss of the ground. It then took several steps back.

Taking the hint and approaching cautiously, Handy stepped forward. He kicked away the heavier portions of dirt and moss where the stag had indicated, feeling something heavy and solid beneath. He crouched down and dug it up, revealing a long, seven-sided crystal the length of his hand coming to two points on either end. It was immaculately preserved and transparent, a rod of golden liquid contained within. He had found a vortex shard.

He looked up at the White Stag in surprise; the black eyes of the creature looked back impassively. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He looked behind him and then back again. “What are you?”

The stag only looked back, its animal face unreadable and seemingly alien now that he had become so used to the faces of deer, griffons, and ponies. Its ears twitched once but otherwise it made no motion. The same creeping sense of reassurance and familiarity was present, yet Handy was certain he had never seen this creature before in his life. He did not know it, but it knew him and had known him all his life and before he even came to be. It had known him long after he was gone too. “…Who are you?”

“Handy!” He looked back at the call. He hesitated for a moment. The stag still stood there looking at him. He rose back to his feet and backed out of the grove. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave but somehow he knew that he had to. He turned and left to join the others. He didn’t see the White Stag fade away.

Nor did he see the joyful glint in its eye.

--=--

“There you are! Where were you?” Thorax asked, dragging herself out of the water to meet Handy as he descended the decline. He held the crystal up.

“Getting our ride out of here… Thorax, did you see anything odd out on that lake?” She just stared at him, unimpressed.

“Oh no, I saw something completely pedestrian and normal, just another day on the town. You know me!” she said with a sweet smile and a voice utterly dripping with sarcasm. Handy snorted.

“Right, fine, stupid question. Where are th—”

“So of course I said I didn’t like the colour pink— Oh hi!” Whirlwind practically stumbled out of the bushes and into the water. Jacques emerged not far behind. Why on earth had they exited the throne room only to wander into the bushes nearby was beyond Handy.

“Never mind. So,” he said seriously, turning to Whirlwind, “we have an understanding then?”

“Yeah! We sure do!” he said happily before chuckling and practically dancing on the spot, happy beyond belief despite how he had been previously dreading becoming the lord. When Handy did not reply and kept glaring at him, he stopped, cleared his throat, and repeated more soberly. “Yes. We have an uh, understanding.”

“Good. Right, how are we going to find our way back?”

“Simple, we’ll just go back the way we came, no? With that torch of yours, we should find the entrance in no time. A hop and a skip past the ballroom and out we go.” Handy was unusually quiet when the group passed around their affirmations. He sighed and rubbed his face.

“Yeah, about that…”

--=--

She sighed and pulled the lantern closer with a hoof, her magic drawing the shawl about her tighter. The wind howled outside but she found herself smiling all the while, even though there was little joy to be found this night. More than a week had passed since she last saw him. A few days had passed since she knew the Hearthfire had been lit, a few days since she knew with irrefutable proof he had fulfilled his mission and was lost to her forever. The strength of the Hartsight returning to her with its full strength would be a constant reminder of that.

She kept herself busy, throwing herself at her duties to prepare Whisperwood for the winter as her tribe happily celebrated the kindling of the Hearthfire. Riverblossom had tried talking to her, but she was in no mood for her grandmother’s reassurances. She put one scroll away and unfurled another, allowing her eyes to drift across the flowing, exaggerated script, taking comfort in the familiar stories they told. They were her only comfort on these cold nights of the twilight of the seasons while she sat there all alon—

A pair of hooves landed gently on her withers, and she felt a muzzle brush her right ear.

“Boo.”

“OH GODS!” The lantern swung around in her magical grip and clashed heavily into the stag’s face. He fell back to the ground with a shout of pain. “Stand and deliver, you cowardly, wretched, home-invading… Whirlwind?”

“Good to see you still have a good swing, Fire,” Whirlwind managed, cradling his very much broken nose.

“Wh-What are you doing here? What happened to you? Why are you… the crown!? What are you doing here!? You can’t step hoof in a city! You’re supposed to be asleep! It’s not yet winter!”

“How are you? Oh I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Whirlwind said with a chuckle, getting up and holding his muzzle with a hoof. Forestfire took a step back, her antler stumps aglow with a white magical aura, threatening to burst into flame.

“Y-You need to leave. Right now, before the Lady of the Lake finds out. You need to go! You can’t be here!”

“Mmmm, actually yes I can. There’s been a change of circumstances. Kinda why I went ahead and snuck in to talk to you about it first before they come into the city and the deer start a riot.”

“Whirlwind, we are half a mile up a Heartwood tree. How in the Greenwoods did you sneak up here?”

“Lord in Winter, remember?”

“It’s not winter. Your magic shouldn’t work.”

“YYYYYeaaah, see that’s why I needed to come talk to you first. You see…”

And so Whirlwind spent the next two hours explaining, in excruciating detail, everything that had happened so that his friends could safely enter the city. And then he explained it again. Then he went over the parts she went him to repeat, and then he answered questions. Then Forestfire slapped herself to ensure she was still grounded in reality, then he repeated it again, then she hyperventilated at the implications. He splashed her in the face with a cup of water, she thanked him, then slapped him, asked a few more questions. Finally she calmed and sat on her haunches, pondering over everything that transpired as she slowly processed all he had told her.

Eventually half the Heartwood was woken up from their slumber by the sound of their chieftain yelling at a volume rivalling a certain equine princess when she was at her most annoyed.

“YOU DID WHAT!?”

--=--

Arguing with Forestfire was interesting to say the least. Handy was done being dressed down by a pacing, sputtering, apoplectic Bambi for their transgressions and fundamental alteration of the deer way of life, going into a tirade about how a lord who was awake all year fundamentally changed the power balance and interrelations of the deer tribes and around twenty other things Handy couldn’t give a fuck about.

Handy retorted that she should pay him for the service anyway. She literally caught fire, or at least her antler stubs did, and her eyes glowed dangerously. The situation was defused rather handily by Whirlwind pointing out that Handy only fulfilled deer tradition… by breaking deer tradition and then getting away with it. He needn’t have done so. Had Forestfire honestly intended to punish any of them for the outcome of their little foray into the deep dark woods, she would have already done so. She was just blowing hot air for the benefit of influential members of the tribal council for the Whisperwood.

Still didn’t stop Handy from goading her for shits and giggles. Although he was serious in getting recompense for their troubles, foremost of which was Forestfire doing more to convince the other tribes of the Greenwoods to not murder the shit out of the friendly neighbourhood human should he, against his better judgement, enter the Hartwoods again. He never intended to, but he was covering his bases. The second thing? Directions to the city’s best blacksmith and the chieftain covering the cost to repair his gear. He had been tempted to just extort her for all she was worth but didn’t want a repeat of the situation he found himself in after he first met the changelings, especially considering he was going to use an ancient artefact of incredible power and unknown properties which no one knew how to use properly to hurtle himself several countries distance in any random direction. He’d rather not do that and have to worry about bags of loot too, as tempting as it may be.

He’d also like a drink. He could really use a drink. He was already several days into a new week, he hadn’t had a drop, and his hunger was getting quite noticeable. However, he swore to himself he wouldn’t, no matter what, so he buried that right where it belonged.

Right under the mind boggling apoplexy he experienced as he listened to young buck explain to him the totally rational reason why he should solder wood to cover the patches of his armour. “Okay, start again, this time a little slowly please.”

“Okay!”

“This is iron bark.”

“Yep!”

“It grows on trees.”

“Absolutely!”

“Therefore it is wood.”

“Mmhm!”

“Wood is flammable.”

“Of course!”

“And you suggest welding it to my armour…”

“Yeah, iron bark is really malleable too. Really great for repair jobs like this, especially since I can’t actually tell what metal this is.”

“It’s steel.”

“Really? It’s so shiny.”

“It’s silvered steel. It’s not all silver; the silver can come off over time,” Handy explained patiently, something he learned the hard way.

“No no, I got that much. I mean, I never saw metal with these properties before. Where did you get your steel?”

“The Equestrian Badlands.”

“YYYYeaaaah, I have no idea where that is!” the near yellow-furred buck replied. The young stag was supposedly a mere apprentice in the diverse crafts deer caste, but he still ran his own shop, which spoke volumes for his ability and skills apparently. For all that, he was still a forest born bumpkin who knew nothing outside of the Greenwoods. Handy groaned.

“The armour was forged there. I think the metal came from nearby mines to the blacksmith who made it. That’s all I know.”

“Well that’s a darn shame. I don’t know how to work the metal. I could just repair it with other materials. I see you already have some patchwork done to it, but that’s just going to stress the metal over time. More if I just slap some more on there. Ironbark is useful. I can grow it into shape and it’s sympathetic. Enchantments, special properties, it can adapt to them over time and strengthen itself. Really useful stuff.”

“It’s wood.”

“But it’s hard as iron!”

“Wood burns, I cannot emphasise this enough, but no means no. Use proper metal instead,” Handy said, tapping the interior of one palm with two fingers of his other hand. The young buck sighed.

“Oh fine, I was just trying to do you a favour.”

“I’ll bet.” Handy grumbled, leaving the deer to his work. He didn’t particularly care for walking around in the middle of deer central without any protection, even if the population had significantly warmed to the foreigners’ presence. A fair number of them were still outraged that their chieftain sent outsiders to the sacred valley. They were even more irked that it resulted in such a fundamental shift in the insular lifestyle they had lived in for centuries. Sure, it wouldn’t suddenly result in an exodus of deer into the outside world. Literally no one on either side of the Greenwood’s borders wanted that, but it was a major change nonetheless and would have far reaching consequences.

He wished the deer luck. It would be their problem to deal with, and he would be long gone by the time said consequences rolled around. With his armour taken care of, he returned to the Hishym where they had been allotted accommodations. He still had to put up with being shadowed everywhere he went by guards but they at least kept a comfortable distance. People still whispered – somehow the fact that pretty much all of them were whispering in the deer language made it worse – but he put up with it all the way back up to the Hishym and into the house afforded them. He was getting his armour repaired and pretty soon he would get a free ride out of this hellhole of a forest and either on his way home or on track to breaking that earth pony sorcerer’s skull. Whichever came first and was convenient while he was fulfilling this damned geas of Chrysalis’. Unfortunately, as much as he preferred the former, the latter was far more likely to be his next goal.

Jacques nodded a greeting to the human as he entered the building from his seat by a low table in the front room. Handy grimaced and gave an imperceptible nod before striding upstairs, leaving the stallion alone. Jacques turned back to the house of cards he was building as he levitated another one into place, bringing it in line with the other one held in place by his magic to complete the house and form its roof. He heard muffled voices coming from above him and an ear swivelled around to follow the noise. He recognised Crimson’s voice, the one Thorax used in disguise. Funny, he didn’t know she was up there. She must be talking to Handy about something. He was curious as to what but he really wanted to finish this house first.

“YOU DID WHAT!?”

Something heavy fell to the ground in the room above him, shaking the room just enough to knock his house of cards to the ground.

Jacques sighed.

--=--

“You’re funny looking,” said the magical talking fawn to the vampire. Handy scowled at the confused little deer, but the little shit refused to budge from her spot. It had been two days since they had returned back to Whisperwood. It was a Friday, and Handy was in an even less charitable mood than he normally was. The end of the week was getting pretty close, his armour still wasn’t done, and he’d rather not find out what happened when he reached the moment that Thestrals started becoming ill for not fulfilling their needs in the middle of the forest.

But that wasn’t the real reason he was getting antsy. Sure, he was being bothered by a child, it was raining, and he had a cold and lacked any adequate covering. That’d piss anyone off. His real problem was that he was incurably lost, and he’d be damned if he was going to ask a child for directions. “Aren’t you a little young to be speaking fluent Equestrian?”

“Momma says it’s important to broaden your horizons!” the little kid said, chest puffed out proudly as the rain beat down. Handy was standing underneath the balcony of some building on the ‘ground floor’ of the city. The child had wandered over from some nearby house or other. He could see the lights in the window and the silhouette of what may have been a parent or an older sibling keeping an eye on the scene. Well, good to see the kid wasn’t allowed to wander the city in the middle of a downpour completely on his own.

“What, is your mother an outcaste then?”

“Yeppers!”

“Huh. Well alright then.” The two stood there in silence as Handy waited for the rain to stop. The child continued studying him curiously.

“You a pony?”

“What?” Handy snorted.

“Momma says ponies are weird. You’re weird and I heard ponies helped Mistah Whirly become the Winsh-ir.”

“The what?”

“So you a pony, mistah?”

“No, I am not a pony. Ponies have hooves like you do and walk on all fours.”

“What are ya then? A dog?”

“…No, I am not a dog.”

“How do ya know you’re not a dog?”

“Do I look like I have floppy ears, little girl?” Handy asked irritably. The fawn’s cheeks puffed out and its muzzle scrunched up.

“I’m a boy!” Whoops. Well forgive Handy for making a mistake. Believe it or not, it actually was pretty difficult to tell the difference between genders when looking at a species one was unfamiliar with, especially their younger versions. Not everyone’s sexual dimorphism was as radical as the deer when they were adults, and it took some adjustment to get used to the subtle differences at first when one lived among the ponies and griffons. Even though looking back on it, those differences seem laughably obvious now. Also? The fawn’s voice was squeaky as all hell.

“…Little boy then. No, I am not a diamond dog.”

“Why not?” What kind of question was that?

“Because clearly I haven’t suddenly transformed into one.”

“Can you?”

“Oh I’m sure I could. I just need someone to kick me hard enough in the face. That oughta do it,” Handy said dryly. The boy looked like he was going to respond to that but caught the look on Handy’s face and realised he was being sarcastic. Kids aren’t the brightest people around after all.

“Listen, I’m not a diamond dog. I’m not a pony, not a griffon, not anything else.” Handy then raised his hands and wiggled his fingers. “Clearly, I am a minotaur.”

The boy’s face lit up at that, and his smile widened to encompass almost the entirety of his face. “Really!?”

“Really, really.” The fawn hopped on the spot in excitement. Apparently he had heard of minotaurs but had never been given a detailed description of one. Something his mother would doubtlessly correct him on whenever the hell she got back from her duties as an outcaste.

“That’s quite enough now, young Oaksfury. Run along now,” the Elder spoke. Handy looked at the approaching elk. His antlers and their illusionary carvings that seemed to shift shape if you weren’t looking at them directly were aglow. A light, barely perceptible corona of energy kept the rain off of him as he slowly made his way up to the pair of them. It was funny. Only now that he knew he was there did Handy notice the terrible racket the various medallions attached to his antlers were making.

“Awww, but I was just talking to the minotaur.”

“Were you now?” The rough, homespun tone of voice was warm with mirth as he raised an eyebrow at Handy before turning back to the fawn. “Indeed. But I think its past your bed time. You wouldn’t want me to tell Summerglory what you were up to while she was away, do you?”

The fawn by the name of Oaksfury gasped and shook his head vigorously, bounding off back to the house with the light coming from its window, the door opening and him disappearing inside. Handy sneezed before shivering, and he eyed the elder suspiciously. How had he found him? He was so lost that he had even lost the guards who were tailing him.

“So. It seems my old friend has a fine nose for good couriers,” Wildwood said with a smile. The magic extended in a dome that shielded them from the rain and the wind. Handy was still soaked, however, his clothes little more than tattered remnants of the undergarments he only wore under his armour to prevent chaffing. A simple tunic and trousers of light fabric were ill suited to keep him warm.

“I take it yo—thou meanst the pony known as Fancy Pants?” Handy asked, and the elk nodded. Handy snorted derisively.

“You know, I am genuinely sorry for the trouble this put you through. You were never meant to end up here and get mixed up in all of this. However… I cannot say I am not grateful that you did.”

“Yes, I am sure thou art,” Handy said, irritable and tired. “I suppose thine little grandson told informed thee of all that has transpired?”

“He did.”

“Then thou knowst what I hath put at risk to save both of our lives and ensure thy people live through the winter?”

“I do indeed.”

“Then see to it thy grandson does not fail,” Handy said dangerously. The elk’s friendly expression did not waver as he studied the human. Something on his back was lit up in the grasp of his magic and hovered between the two of them.

“Whirlwind is quite capable, I assure you. You have nothing to fear for your kingdom.”

“I had better not,” Handy said looking away. His eyes were shifting from place to place, looking anywhere other than at the elk. Wildwood noticed he was preoccupied with fidgeting. His guards had picked up on this in their reports, and it had been getting more noticeable over the past few days. He didn’t mind it, putting it down to a mixture of exposure to the cold and an understanding of how this forest affected outsiders. After all, he remembered how Fancy Pants had been during his time here. It was perfectly reasonable to expect odd behaviour.

“Here,” Wildwood said, levitating the small package over to the human.

“What is this?”

“A gift, token of appreciation. Also, you look cold.” Handy eyed the package suspiciously before tearing it open partially. It revealed a thick cloak beneath, the material tough and heavy yet soft to the touch. It appeared black at first but was actually a deep, almost sable navy when he saw the sheen of light reflect off of it. “Also I understand, from what my grandson has told me, you have certain questions for me?”

“Questions?” Handy parroted, looking up at the elk’s face for the first time.

“Yes. About a certain thing that… doesn’t exist? Of which there is no such thing?”

Handy understood his meaning immediately. He took his time trying to formulate a response as he looked down. He rubbed his finger and thumbs on the soft fabric of the cloak he had been gifted. He… didn’t want to think about it. In fact, he had been flat out told it was best if he never thought about it, pretend it didn’t exist so as to not draw its attention. The tone in the elk’s voice made him think that the elder was not entirely fond of the idea of discussing it either.

So he didn’t ask. He decided he didn’t want to know, only forget. Instead, he chose to ask about something altogether more interesting, more benign. Or so he hoped.

“I’d rather ask… What is the White Stag?” Wildwood just blinked.

“The what?”

“It was this thing I saw in the ruins… It looked like a normal stag but different. Bigger, black eyes… Do you know what it is? Is it a spirit like Ashaia or… or what?” Wildwood considered his words for a minute, screwing up his face in thought.

“Unless you’re thinking about an albino deer, I am not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“This was not an ordinary deer. I don’t even think it was a deer at all.”

"Please, describe it for me." Wildwood asked gently, he still wore his friendly smile but beyond that his expression was unreadable. Handy did the best he could to describe the White Stag as it appeared by earth standards without giving the game away as it were.

“Well I’m sorry, but I am not sure I have seen such a thing before, and it is my business to know about these things.”

“Oh…” Handy continued looking down at the cloak, thoughtful. Wildwood looked around as the rain seemed to be getting heavier.

"If it bothers you so, ser Handy I could make a few enquiries, I am certain elders of a few other tribes I know might know something more. If what you say is true and not even Lady Ashaia perceived it, then it is either a facet of your imagination or something greater we are not yet familiar with."

"No. No thats okay, thank you. I think it may have just been my mind playing tricks on me. Not used to this forest, its ways..." Handy trailed off.

“Your Hishym is by that Oakenheart over there, the one with the golden veins crawling up its bark,” Wildwood said, pointing at the great tree in question. “Second one up, can’t miss it.”

“How didst thee know I was lost?”

“Because you look lost,” Wildwood said happily. “And listen, I am sorry I couldn’t tell you what you wanted to know. If there is anything at all I can do to help, please, just tell me.” Handy put the cloak on over him. It lacked a hood and only came down to his knees, but it was incredibly warm. Instantly, he found himself shielded from the cold air as he began tying it off at its front. He paused as realization hit him.

He recalled something Chrysalis had said to him when he first spoke to her upon waking in the Greenwoods. The amulet was in his packs back in the house they were staying in, so there was no way she could overhear of find out in advance. A smile crawled across his face. “Actually, there is something you can still do for me. Two things in fact.”

“Name it.”

“Well, for the first thing, thou hast means to contact Fancy Pants from within the forest somehow, correct?”

“Yes?” Wildwood asked. Handy’s smile grew broader.

“I would request thee to tell him that he shall have some guests coming to visit him soon,” he began, brushing down the outside of his cloak, “and that he should extend to them every courtesy they deserve…”

--=--

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

“Of course you aren’t…” Handy groaned. They were gathered at a clearing north of the Whisperwood city. Apparently it was close to some minor deer village belonging to a tributary tribe that served the Whisperwood, little more than a clan though Handy hadn’t seen it. He likely wasn’t supposed to. Apparently they only needed a clearing to ensure as little of the surrounding area got transported with them, otherwise they risked teleporting the entire base of one or more of these absurdly tall trees. That would have left them with the possibility of arriving wherever the crystal took them with a gigantic lump of wood landing on their backs, while the deer would be left with the possibility of playing redwood dominoes and desperately praying none of the trees landed on their houses. Ain’t nobody got time for that shit.

Funnily enough, Handy’s armour was ready and the provisions and supplies promised by Forestfire arrived at the house exactly one hour after he had met with the tribe’s elder, allowing them to leave the very next day. Fancy that. Jacques and Thorax shadowed him as he walked down into the clearing, and he tried not to glower too much at the pair of them. Thorax for her part was keeping her distance, not really trusting the stallion. Damn right she shouldn’t. He couldn’t believe what she had told him.

To think Jacques knew all this time and had used magic to reveal her! Somehow the stallion had sussed out Thorax’s true nature beforehand and, for reasons unknown, had kept the knowledge to himself. Handy narrowed his eyes dangerously in Jacques’ general direction as the swordspony lay against a log and ran a whetstone across his sword, humming happily. He was going to be trouble – no one kept their mouth shut about known changelings without good reason. Not to say Handy’s reasons for doing so were good, but they were incriminating which was almost as good a justification.

“So just place it on the ground like this. With this end pointing towards where we want to go?”

“Probably,” Whirlwind replied, shrugging. “I only know that if you break one outside the forest, it takes you somewhere inside the forest. Hence, you know, everything that happened, heh.”

“Swell…” Handy grimaced, placing the crystal on the ground, pointing it north. The Greenwoods expanded in all directions and was the size of several countries, but it was narrow. With Griffonia to the north and Equestria to its south, it acted as a barrier between the nations almost as implacable and impassable as the mountain ranges to Griffonia’s west. So pointing the crystal north or south was the fastest means of getting out of the forest. God knows how it worked, because the deer sure as shit didn’t.

“Well Whirlwind it has been fun, après une mode. Take care of yourself, oui?” Jacques said, tipping yet another newly acquired hat, having lost his last one sometime during the adventure in the ruins.

“I’ll be fine, Jack. Hey! Maybe we’ll bump into each other again after winter! You can help me when I go on my adventure!” Jacques tapped his chin for a bit then stroked his goatee as he smiled.

“Perhaps. How much you paying?”

“…Really, Jacks?”

“A pony has to eat,” Jacques said simply. Whirlwind rolled his eyes and turned to Handy.

“And you can count on me, Handy. I won’t let you down!”

‘For your sake, you had better hope you’re dead if you fail,’ Handy thought bitterly. His anger wasn’t directed at the deer specifically, more at the circumstances that led to him having to place his faith in him. He held his hoof out to him, and Handy looked at it for a moment, confused. Hesitantly, he gripped his hoof in his gloved hand and shook it, which felt weird. He beamed at the human before turning and bounding off up a long incline overlooking the clearing.

“Well, I suppose this is it then. You two ready?” Looking back, Jacques stood ready while Thorax sat on her haunches. Her leg was doing much better after a few days being looked after by the deer apothecaries, but it would be obviously out of commission for the next few weeks at least, and for that it was tied in a proper cast. Well, proper in that it held the leg steady in a crouched position up to her haunches. The cast itself appeared made out of various kinds of long, green leaves and yellow vines. He wasn’t going to pretend to understand how it worked. All he knew was that it was slower than salamander salve for healing a broken leg.

God, he could use a bottle of that stuff. He really could.

Looking around, just to make sure they weren’t going to fell any trees when this thing exploded, which was not a reassuring detail Whirlwind had filled him in on. The clearing was surprisingly dark. Everywhere else was brightly lit except for here. Looking up, sure enough there was enough sunlight piercing the impossibly high canopy that this place should be as bright as any other. As it was, he could just about make out details in the half light. Whatever, it was not his concern anymore. Looking back up at Whirlwind, he paused. Maybe he should say something? Tell him about Bambi and exactly why she had arranged things in such a way that he and Thorax accompanied Jacques and Whirlwind. It would certainly be doing him a favour.

…Nah, fuck ‘em.

He raised his foot and brought it down just as Whirlwind said something. “Wait, maybe it was the other side you need to point…” Handy’s foot crashed down, shattering the crystal, splitting the golden rod that exploded into a rapidly expanding gas. He had just enough time to shout one last thing.

“WHAT!?”

And with that, the gas expanded out in a circle, encompassing all three of them before it solidified and flashed into a perfect sphere of light that almost blinded the deer. When it was over, he lowered his hoof and winced. “Oh dear… I hope they ended up where they wanted.”

He watched the rapidly diminishing mist that was left in the wake of the crystal’s explosion and the circle of bare earth that was transported with them. Eventually, he sighed and turned away, walking back to the Whisperwood city.

Far above the scene, silent dusty wings fluttered by the sides of the being who watched on. Four hooves nestled close to its barrel on the branch as the pale purple coated creature blinked its eyes back into focus. That light had been so beautiful, but it had hurt. It rubbed its eyes with a furry fetlock as it ruffled the fluff around its neck and chest. Its long antennae twitched in agitation as it picked up scents its nose on its muzzle could not detect.

It had seen the skin changer. The legends were true; they did exist. News known only to it, none would believe it when it told them the tale. Its wings fluttered once and its tail flicked, ears perked and listening intently to the forest and its many threats. It had lingered long enough. It was too near the deer; it must flee for now before it is discovered and hunted. It rose to its hooves and leapt from its perch, wings fluttering as it weaved its way through trees and branches and the innumerable dangerous to flight in the forest.

And as it left, the darkness that shrouded the clearing lifted, and sunlight once more touched the earth unhindered.

--=--

Good news: the crystal did indeed take them outside the forest, as the first thing he saw was the open sky. So terribly vast he initially felt a sense of vertigo as he stared into its immensity.

Bad news: he was looking up at the sky because he was transported horizontally, standing perpendicular to the ground.

…five feet up in the air.

He let out a yelp and flailed, turning as he fell and landed hard on the ground. He let out a heavy groan as he pushed himself up before immediately hitting the ground again as a weight landed on his back with a pained cry. Another weight landed on top of whatever the hell landed on him with a more feminine cry.

Handy found himself at the bottom of a pony pile.

‘Thanks God,’ Handy thought as he just lay there as his companions slowly crawled off of him, ‘However, I don’t think that was quite right. Feels like its missing something, a certain… I don’t know what.’ Chunks of earth landed upon all three of them as particles of dirt washed over them, the remains of the ground they stood upon when Handy broke the crystal.

“See, now that’s more like it! What are you going to do for an encore?” he said aloud. He was greeted with groans in response from the other two. There was a crack of thunder and immense cloud banks rolled over the horizon and darkened the sky as rain began pouring down on them. Whatever weather teams far away were responsible for pushing this mess on top of them from afar could not have timed their work more perfectly. He clucked his teeth. “Bollocks.”

Author's Note:

And so ends the Crown of Winter arc.

Join us next time when Handyman learns how to write concisely and doesn't trap the audience in a horrible doom forest for three months.

Comments

[lefthandturnsignal]

Another update already? heresy!

Wait... why am I complaining?

[Raistlin]

I know Handy is a badass, but outwitting a Fae-like spirit using her own words... that is a new level

[Asheram]

Woo! Another chapter!

“But that’s okay!” Handy quickly held up a placating hand while suppressing the desire to smile. He had her; he could feel he had the upper hand here for once. “Whirlwind will do the work for you… You just have to make a new arrangement: make him the Lord in Winter and allow him to remain awake during the year… and leave the forest.”

“Whirlwind will do the work for you… You just have to make a new arrangement: make him the Lord in Winter and allow him to remain awake during the year… and leave the forest.”

I'm not sure this is completely correct

[Asheram]

By Xenus third nipple! Was that a Flutterpony?!

[Handyman]

5359007 thanks for spotting that, fixed it.

[DevourMistress]

5358913 you better not be, because i will murder anyone who makes author take a break from the story.

[Aerial]

That ending made me laugh.

This was a pretty fast update after the last, what's up with that?

[Handyman]

5359322 I was in a good mood, finally worked out how to resolve the arc and was eager to get the arc finished.

Also I talked JBL out of making me wait the extra week before publishing.

[Aerial]

5359340 I am okay with this.

What are the odds that we get spoiled with another chapter in a week?

[JBL]

5359357 You have a better chance of invading North Korea and overthrowing Kim Jong Un

[Handyman]

5359478
5359357

Sure I'll have the interlude up by next Monday.

Never liked Kim Jong Un anyway.

[DevourMistress]

5359489 that's good to know, since if you had said that you did like him, it would be almost the same as shaking hands with hitler and smiling at his plans.

anyway, your one of the best authors in this site. Don't let anyone tell you that you're not good one, because they are simply jealous of your skill and story writing.

Ps. best of luck while writing the next week's chapter.

[TheMichiganDogman]

Wow, looks like I'm finally going to have another long read. Haven't had one like this since Silent Ponyville Reunion a while back when it was featured.

[wille179]

I have a couple questions:

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 = ordinary human and 10 = Alucard from Helsing, how strong of a vampire is Handy?
On the same scale, how strong do you see him getting?
Is Handy a Bram-Stoker-type vampire? Or something else?

[The Serpent Mage]

Join us next time when Handyman learns how to write concisely and doesn't trap the audience in a horrible doom forest for three months.

Well, until the next time you do. C'mon, you know you will.

[Handyman]

5359568 I will try not to.

5359542 Oh gee wilikers I always wanted to see downtown Mogodishu!

5359540 It differs. I cannot go into too much detail as there are facets of his vampirism that he genuinely does not understand or has yet to discover (but I have been hinting at), and it depends on the blood he consumes, but if you want a scale... Handy as a vampire without any blood boosts at this moment in time as of the end of the crown of winter arc, is in the range of 1 to 1.5 on that scale. I have hinted the vampirism has changed him physically even when he hasn't consumed blood but this change has not been too extravagant. Not yet at least. I will say I have taken some suggestions by JBL on board for it however. For now, you need to keep Handy's abilities in mind with his handicaps, I'll never let him get too powerful without giving him weaknesses. Fire being the biggest physical threat at all times to him, astute readers will remember several times before Handy's latent vampiric self-preservation instituted an animalistic yet entirely rational fear of fire in him after the first time he got burned. Handy had been in very precarious positions vis-a-vis fire before. Such as when he was wearing little more than a tunic and pants while in Joachim's room which was loaded down with burning candles and dry paper everywhere in chapter 11, and again when he was standing guard against a wall for Joachim during the negotiations in Canterlot under a burning brazier in Chapter 14 that looked like a stiff breeze could knock it over and send it tumbling down on top of him. Often people consider Handy getting awfully lucky in this story but I don't think they truly realize to what extent they are correct.

As to how strong I see him getting, again it depends, given the flaws, weaknesses and constant threats I throw at him, no matter how strong he becomes there will always be a way to threaten him or beat him, even for characters who aren't 'bosses' so to speak. Handy's powers are fluid because of the reliance on blood. With that said I cannot accurate estimate how high on that scale he'll get. But he won't be a ten because Alucard is an overpowered son of a fuck and no one should be a ten. Discord isn't a ten. But I will say by the end of this story, Handy will be a powerful contender in his own right.

Handy is his own breed, not going to lie, but I am taking alot of classical inspirations for his vampirism. For one thing in terms of originality, Handy is actually still alive, and has all the weaknesses and needs a living person has. (Such as the need for warmth, making his relationship with fire all the more awkward.) You cut him and he bleeds, he bleeds too much and he bleeds out and dies like everything else. Take from that what you will, but there is an important theme to that that likely won't get publicized and is there largely for my own benefit. The lack of burning in daylight however, IS a classically inspired vampiric trait, in the oldest vampiric legends, prior to Bram Stoker's Dracula did not record any burning up in daylight, that was a relatively modern addition to popular vampiric lore (albeit one I love and approve of, just didn't use it for Handy). Sides, vampires are one of those monsters that are near universal to all cultures, like werewolves and dragons, everyone has a different spin on the things.

5341189 Sure, I find the idea of embarrassing Handy amusing but I am not that cruel.

5341390 You know, people keep comparing this story to Diaries, but I haven't read that story beyond its first chapter, most of the rest of what I know about it comes from tvtropes or what JBL tells me when I ask him about it. Honestly BM is much more influenced by Truekey's Journey than by Diaries.

Can't say I am too fond of all the comparisons based on what I do know of Diaries but perhaps I am being a touch unfair. One of these days I'll give it a proper read.

5342529 Liar.

5343424 This is shockingly appropriate... except for the creepy homocidal serial killer vibes that song always gave me. Handy isn't that bad.

Not yet anyway.

5351419 Quite.

5358913 No no, you're quite right. Its all very heretical.

5358992 Now I wouldn't go quite that far, this was the same guy who didn't have a plan when he up and insulted said spirit in the first place afterall. Still, it got her talking at least.

5359060 Well its certainly a thing now isn't it?

5359505 I hope you enjoy the ride, its been a fun year's writing.

5359177
5359496 I must admit I am flattered to be sure, but I really must insist you don't go as far as to call me that. There are plenty of more talented and focused authors on this website who go unnoticed simply because their production rates do not match mine, quantity cannot substitute quality afterall and Bad Mondays is and always has been writing practice for me, I cringe when JBL goes over the earlier chapters and points things out to me.

That aside I am glad you're still enjoying the story... although this is probably a bad time to mention that I have been contemplating a short break after the interlude...

[ArcaneVisions]

Man, I was really thinking that handy was gonna become the new lord of winter. Swing and a miss.

[Aerial]

5359604 Will Handy's continual drinking of blood cause his vampirism to make any other changes to his body? Will he keep 'evolving' into a more dangerous creature, for lack of a better way of phrasing it?

[Handyman]

5359788 Time will tell.

[wille179]

5359604
I was asking purely about strength, knowing full well that there would be weaknesses. Now, assuming all else is equal, which specie's blood would give him the biggest offensive powerup in your opinion (regardless of whether he actually tastes it or not in the story)?

Also, did you know that the Arabic vampire attacks during the day rather than the night, as desert dwelling people tend to fear the heat of the day more than the cool of the night?

[Handyman]

5359846 Answering that would be spoilers, but I will reveal blood drinking effects are cumulative for however long they last if he drinks from multiple species in succession.

Also yes to your second question, I did know that.

[lefthandturnsignal]

5359604 So, other than the writing yourself directly into a plot hole, how would handy react to the 'vampires can't cross running water' schtick?

[The Tyrannical]

Well Whirlwind it has been fun, <after a fashion>

33.media.tumblr.com/a553494c9906d7026b1b84c9728cbaee/tumblr_ne8lsuq2mr1qdlh1io1_400.gif

[Handyman]

5359887 I'd wonder how he crossed the river everyday in Skymount back when he lived there if he had that problem. Clearly he doesn't.

[Handyman]

5359895 GOD. DAMNIT. JACQUES.

....fixed,

[The Tyrannical]

5359917
(If it's any consolation, I like Jacques a lot.)

[AnormalUnicornPony]

Oooh.... Too late for the main comment response. Well. You. Something. Well done so far. Yeah! Nodding my head! Yeah! Anyone else? Anything? Right. Yeah good job from the traitorous colonies.... ya jerk. Sincerely typed drunkenly but not read. - Anormal

[JBL]

5359955 No worries, pretty sure drunk is the official Irish language.

[Lupus]

And that's why you don't mock the powers that be.

Gods I'm gonna miss the deer, especially Whirlwind

[D48]

Well, that was fun, although it was also kind of disappointing because of how many hanging questions and plot threads you left behind. I kind of figure Whirlwind will run into Handy again sooner or later (I was actually hoping they would stick together) because I have the feeling they are both going after this "mistress" character so it is alright to leave some of that hanging, although it is still a bit disappointing that no one bothered to tell him that Forestfire is into him because there was lots of room for fun and chaos there.

Of course, the one that is really bugging me is the White Stag which is honestly feeling like one of those TV show running mysteries that the writers never bothered to plan out a resolution to so it just sort of got dropped at the end instead of getting a proper resolution. That said, I am withholding judgement on this point for now because there is a chance it could show up again in the future which would make it a bigger piece of the world than it seems like in this arc.

The other one I am a bit disappointed by is the lack of interaction between Jacques and Thorax in this chapter, although he did make it clear he cares for her when he caught her after she got turned into glass and Thorax very clearly lied to Handy without telling Jacques which is going to come out one way or another at some point down the road for some extra fun. That whole situation is looking like it is going to be a lot of fun in the future as the two of them work out their feelings on their relationship so I just really want to see more of it in general.

I am also slightly annoyed that the Salamander Salve addiction has not gone away yet because it has been something like two weeks since he last had it, although it does seem weaker than it was earlier and I am getting the distinct impression he is back in Equestria so he will probably have to do without for a while longer which will hopefully fix the problem.

5359852 Are you at least willing to say what alacorn blood would do for him because I seriously doubt he will ever sink his fangs into a princess and I would expect that to give far more kick than just about anything else.

[HumansRuleOK]

Are the next few chapters going to be about getting to home?

[JBL]

5360530

Of course, the one that is really bugging me is the White Stag which is honestly feeling like one of those TV show running mysteries that the writers never bothered to plan out a resolution to so it just sort of got dropped at the end instead of getting a proper resolution.

Nope, the mystery of the White Stag was presented in such a way so as to maintain its mystique and have questions asked of it. After all, not all of life's mysteries can be solved, certainly not in the situation Handy found himself in. At the end of the arc, Handy is curious as to what the White Stag is but not enough that he would stay in the forest and around the deer longer than he would have to to do so.

Though there are hints around to solve the mystery....

The other one I am a bit disappointed by is the lack of interaction between Jacques and Thorax in this chapter

Weeeellllll, you know they had to deal with a cranky old spirit that turned them to glass and was trying to kill them. Kinda took precedence over the romance and such. Plus they were banged up (heh, bang), Thorax with her broken leg and such, so it wasn't important. Romance simply had little importance over other things in this chapter. Patience is a virtue.

am also slightly annoyed that the Salamander Salve addiction has not gone away yet because it has been something like two weeks since he last had it, although it does seem weaker than it was earlier and I am getting the distinct impression he is back in Equestria so he will probably have to do without for a while longer which will hopefully fix the problem.

You...... You know that's not how addiction works, right? It tends to be something that one can't just simply get over.

[Usurper]

5360530

Handyman Are you at least willing to say what alacorn blood would do for him because I seriously doubt he will ever sink his fangs into a princess and I would expect that to give far more kick than just about anything else.

Wouldn't be entirely certain about that. There are at least 8 or 9 alicorns out and about that we know of. The 'Mistress' is a big player, whom handy has excellent motive to play matchmaker with her face and Mjölnir Junior.

5359604

OMGbeta You know, people keep comparing this story to Diaries, but I haven't read that story beyond its first chapter, most of the rest of what I know about it comes from tvtropes or what JBL tells me when I ask him about it. Honestly BM is much more influenced by Truekey's Journey than by Diaries.
Can't say I am too fond of all the comparisons based on what I do know of Diaries but perhaps I am being a touch unfair. One of these days I'll give it a proper read.

I think all three of the stories and their protagonists are very different despite the whole adventure in alien world shtick. That said, Thiemo from Journey starts out well established while we get to witness Handy's arrival and subsequent character arc, same as Nav from Diaries. Maybe that's a reason Handy and Nav are always getting compared? However, they are very different characters with many contrasting methods and beliefs.

Diaries of a Madman can be difficult to tolerate or take seriously when parts become polluted with pen to paper fantasy fetish porn that has no business working in any biological sense. That topic was never respected as being biologically wrong, and none of the problems are addressed.

Character development seems to be the saving grace for all adventure epics. On a different note, and endgame free-for-all between Handy, Navarone, and Thiemo would be totally awesome.

[Handyman]

5360530 You can't kick addiction that easily, even if he has gone cold turkey for two weeks by now and there is a reason why it was both illegal in Equestria and why he can't stop thinking about it entirely, and its not just because its addictive, otherwise the ponies would ban alcohol, tobacco and caffeine. But you are correct, it has become less and less prominent in his thoughts over time kept away from the substance and he has a bigger problem in his vampirism to worry about. Still, the closest thing to a healing potion this story has is the salve, so even if he kicks it the temptation is always there.

I can understand your disappointment in the lack of interaction between Jacques and Thorax, that was quite intentional I assure you, as I deliberately kept the perspective firmly from Handy's viewpoint ever since the previous chapter, another case of the readers knowing more about what is going on than the main character, yet still seeing things as he sees them. I can promise you that you will see more of that dynamic and it will play out before too long.

The White Stag has a purpose but its much more subtle than it first appears and it isn't meant to be explained outright. I have laid hints as to its true nature throughout the arc but one is likely not able to pick up on it unless they're knowledgeable about certain things. Even then there is no guarantee you have the right answer.

The threads I left 'hanging' were purposeful, I explained before that this arc wasn't about 'Handy' per se, rather Handy was actually a side character in someone else's story. It was essentially my experimental take on this trope. This arc was important for Handy, yes, but it ultimately wasn't 'his' story, most of those threads are there for Whirlwind to solve and to make the world seem larger, Handy can't solve everything and truthfully it'd be boring if he did. Some things simply aren't his to resolve.
5361844 Raises good points about these things too.

As for Alicorn blood, I can only say that the rewards would be worth the attempt to acquire some. Wether Handy survives the attempt is another question entirely.

5361669 Yes and No, Handy has alot to do now that he's actually out of the forest, going home may be desirable but not strictly possible given the geas.

5360505 They were surprisingly popular, though JBL hated them and the entire forest arc, I really need to make things up to the guy for putting up with my bullshit for so long.

5359970
5359955 Drunk is a sub dialect of the County Kerry and nothing more.

Everything else you have heard is LIES.

5359760 Granted that'd give him a hell of a power boost, but Handy would be stuck in the forest all winter.

He would be quite unhappy.

5359947 Glad to hear, its always hard to judge how people react to certain characters.

[Handyman]

5361848 I see someone has been keeping track.

Yes there are quite a number of alicorns that the audience knows of directly or indirectly through the course of this story. Four of which are our favorite canon princesses in Equestria.

Also regarding the three fics, I suppose you may be correct, I do adopt the same approach to character arcs as diaries, the 'stranger in a strange' land approach and how both characters adapt. And the fact both humans get 'changed' in some manner... and its an adventure.

[The Tyrannical]

5361867
I suppose it doesn't really help that most of my comments on this story are picking up the errors in Jacques' lines, rather than explaining what I think about each chapter or character.

Oops.

I will try to remedy this in the future. (While still pointing out Jacques' translation errors. )

[Isaac3924]

I am glad to say to you sir, "Happy 600th like".

[Handyman]

5362052 Huh... wow you're right.

hard to believe I actually got that far.

[Usurper]

Hmm... come to think of it, it might have been a good idea for Handy to make a pact with the deer before he left. He effectively placed Gethrenia at great risk to save the deer society. Should have made the tribes swear to aid him or Gethrenia in a time of great need or some such thing.

Unless of course certain details will be kept under wraps, and Handy has no intention of letting Joachim know.

[Handyman]

5362257 Handy certainly doesn't want Joachim to know about everything that happened in the forest, although it will be made clear exactly how much of what occurred in there he is willing to share with his old friend at this point in time.

[D48]

5361867 For an addiction, that depends heavily on the source and individual. The hardest are pure psychological addictions (which this most definitely is not) because that is purely a thought pattern/habit which was formed for a reason so it naturally takes quite a bit of work to "unlearn" them and the process can take years or even decades. On the other end of the spectrum, an unwanted and purely physical chemical addiction can be kicked in less than a week, something which is frequently seen in medicine with drugs the patient is not aware their body has formed a dependency on. Of course, you do raise a good point about the temptation of using it as medicine, although you are wrong about it being the closest thing to a healing potion in the story because Handy has very clearly demonstrated that blood works just fine for that which means there is a chance that the bat pony potions would work as well.

As for Jacques and Thorax, while I am a bit disappointed I cannot say I blame you for it. While you might have been able to slip in a few more tidbits with things like Jacques asking after her or checking on her leg, it really did not fit into this chapter very well so it made sense to keep it on the sidelines for now, especially given the reveal you set Handy up for with Thorax's lie.

As for the White Stag, that is really not a good way to handle something significant, especially something that gets the main characters out of trouble. A big part of my issue with that is that the lack of an explanation or at least relatively obvious clues is that it makes the whole thing feel a bit like deus ex machina because something mysterious and unexplained has come seemingly out of nowhere to solve problems the characters were incapable of solving on their own. This could be fixed with a reappearance of the White Stag in the future coupled with more information, but for now the result is really just a hanging problem.

As for the hanging threads, I understand where you are coming from on that one, but I still feel like Handy should have at least told Whirlwind how Forestfire felt about him. It is something he can control after all, and it gives him one last way to screw with them before he leaves and gets himself clear of her wrath.

Finally on the subject of alicorn blood, I kind of knew it was going to do something insanely overpowered already because it is very well established that alicorns are stupidly powerful creatures. That is also why I was assuming there was no way he was going to sink his teeth into one unless Twilight decided to run a controlled experiment in a safe place which does not let him do anything useful with it. That said, the evasiveness of your answer on this one seems to indicate that he will be doing something meaningful with it at some point in the future because there would be no point in hiding the effects if he was never going to get any of it.

[Reykan]

Thank god, no more deer. And good job, stickin' it to those demi-gods! Fuck them!

[Handyman]

5363526 Forgive me, I would've replied sooner but the keyboard on my laptop broke.

I'll come out and say it now: Handy does have a psychological addiction to the salve on top of the obvious physical, chemical addiction. For two months prior to the tournament he has been having trouble sleeping, quite alot actually. I showed this during the tournament arc when he craved it as he slept and used it before going to sleep several times. However, Handy does not dream, so it is hardly night terrors keeping him awake, so what has been? Its simple, its the same thing that caused his massive breakdown at the start of this arc in the forest.

Some part of him always knew the horror of what he had become but like so much else he was trying to suppress it to nothing more than the formless dread on the horizon of his thoughts, rather than let it become the reality he had to deal with. Handy had killed a man, (Geoffrey), in a rather horrible fashion, he had deserved it and Handy wanted to do it, but you cannot do something like that and it has no effect on you. Its the same reason when he killed the dragon at the tournament he paused and simply watched his cooling corpse, he briefly had to face the reality of what he had done and killed someone who was entirely at his mercy. Right or wrong, it affected him.

So he had been abusing the salve habitually, much more than Joachim ever did and applied it regularly to his left wrist to put him at ease and allow him to drift off, he abused it so much at this point he feels he needs it in order to find any comfort and rest at all. In fact the only night recently where he had any decent sleep at all without it was when he finally was on his own in a room when they entered the deer city of Whisperwood, he slumps down and lets himself fall to his mental exhaustion, it was so noteworthy for him it was why it was a scene in the first place rather than just being glossed over. The consequences of the substance abuse of a magical healing salve such as that cannot be glossed over and there is a reason, both psychological and physical, that Handy continually scratches his wrist but pointedly does not look at it.

That is why, even though it is slowly being pushed to the back of his mind, that it cannot be just dropped like a sack of potatos, Handy made his bed with his problems with the salve, he has to lie in it. Additionally, trying to buck one addiction by focusing on another one that is an actual physiological need may seem practical, but consider what that actually entails: getting animal blood to slake the thirst and use as healing was incredibly useful and easy in Griffonia, but now that he is out of the high kingdom, that is much more difficult, especially in Equestria. Will the Thestral potions work? We have no idea yet, but them working requires Handy putting himself at the mercy of the Princesses, however generous they are, good luck convincing him doing that is a good idea. Oh and Fish don't seem to work for him, he learned that after the little fishing trip he and Jacques had in the forest swamps. This leaves him with the unpalatable reality of resorting to biting people which is the conflict I am building up to considering Handy has resolved to fight his own vampiric urges as much as he can now:

"...And food?" she asked after a bit.

"I'm sure we can find something to eat tomorrow."

"You know what I mean, Handy," she said, watching the shenanigans with an amused mask. Handy gave her a stony look before turning back around.

"Whirlwind knows what I am. He saw me feed. Safe to assume Jacques knows now too." He paused. "I won't be... I won't be doing that again anytime soon." Her ear perked and rotated towards him.

Chapter 27, around the last paragraphs.

So he has a few addictions and a few methods of resolving them, find more salve and indulge in it for the pleasure of it and for the healing factor and exacerbate the obvious phisiological problems it is causing him which I have been hinting at, or continue assaulting people for blood. This is one of the darker things about the fic and it is not supposed to be an easy fix, obviously I am aiming to have Handy beat his addiction to salve, but it is not meant to be easy.

As for the White Stag, I am sorry you feel that way, but here's the question: why do you think the stag is a major feature of the story? The only time when it actually outright helped Handy and Whirlwind was when magic had confounded there own means of saving themselves by suppressing the witch torch and a magical snowstorm threatened to freeze them to death in the middle of a ghost town at the bottom of a canyon. The time when it was seen in this chapter with the spirit, it didn't actually 'do' anything, nothing more than just calm Handy down enough for him to think clearly, Handy thought his way out of that problem by himself using his own wits. If that means the White Stag saved him then you might as well say the moral support did all the work in every story when the sight of something helped the main character resolve a problem.

Sure it lead Handy to the vortex shard, but why do you think it did that? It was not as if he wouldn't have found it on his own eventually. It wanted Handy alone and it wanted Handy to think. He was the only one who could see it, more than that, he was the only one who noticed it's physical affects on the world as it passed through it, for it was his to perceive and his alone and it most certainly did not come out of nowhere.

I may not have written it well enough but I have striven to hint at its true existence, what it was and what it is supposed to be perceived as, all without actually being blatantly obvious, there is a very good reason why it looked like an ordinary earth stag rather than one from this world. If I were to blatantly explain what it was, I might as well through out all mystery and reveal who the Mistress really is, what that voice was Handy released in the early chapters and any number of the mysterious things in this story.

Have you never encountered a situation where a person or perhaps something else in the world in your daily life struck you, or left a lasting impression on you that you could not immediately understand, dismiss out of hand and had to continually wonder about? The White Stag is a genuinely beneficial thing that had happened to Handy that has had such a profound impact, even if I never used the stag ever again in the story, the work has been done and Handy will be thinking about it, its actions and what it means for him for a long time afterwards, much like the Road has.

Ultimately it comes down to this, and its the question I wanted the readers to ask themselves more than simply ask me: "What do you think the White Stag is?"

As for not telling Whirlwind about Forestfire, Handy balanced the enjoyment of pissing Forestfire off and escaping her wroth vis a vis telling Whirlwind about it and potentially making him happy. Handy chose to be a dick because Whirlwind was closer to hand and kept his mouth shut, Jacques kept quiet for a more friendly reason: it simply wasn't his business. He immediately paid for it, had he kept talking Whirlwind might have been able to remember to check the vortex shard was actually pointing in the right direction before Handy smashed it.

My evasiveness should not mean a damn, honestly, I am evasive with most of my answers unless I am talking about something already established with plenty of evidence already present in the story. I'd be evasive if you had asked me what pegasus blood does for him, or dragon, or Alicorn, or dog, or yog-shoggoth.

[GuyverAlpha]

Slight continuity error I found. "With Discord and old magic" you retconned the meeting between Handy and Discord, so no one would know that about the armor.

[Handyman]

5367344 Actually they would, Discord and Handy definitely 'met' before the ret-conned Discord Chapter.

In Chapter 14 - A quiet moment, Handy was having a conversation with Celestia when Discord interrupted being his usual self, he noticed Handy and then proceeded to immediately find him boring and tried snapping him off into the middle of nowhere. Only to have his magic not work due to Handy's armour, something Celestia's guards witnessed and talked about. A story that got its way to court, and of course nobles being nobles...

Sides, in the retconned Discord chapter, which chronologically happened after chapter 14, Discord never used magic directly on Handy himself and the two were alone in any case.

Good eye in any case.

[GuyverAlpha]

5367490 Sorry it's been awhile since I reread this fic, I must have forgotten that.

[Handyman]

5367600 Don't worry about it mate, this is a long ass story, its only natural people would forget a little detail like that.

[D48]

5365408 That makes sense on the addictions. I still feel like piling them on in the first place was a bit excessive, but at this point you do have to work with it.

On the plus side Jacques seems to be willing to serve as the party's secondary food source so Handy can probably snag a quick sip there if he asks nicely.

As for the white stag, that really comes down to it saving Handy's life in the snow (congratulations Whirl, you are not important enough to mention ). The way things were going there was no way out of that trap, but then this stag thing comes along and very clearly saves his life. If that had not happened I would be fine with it being unexplained because it would just be kind of strange, but anything that acts on the main character to that extent is automatically significant for the simple reason that it allows the story to continue by keeping the main character alive. Now, the story is not over so you do have room to circle back to the stag at some point in the future which could happen if it is tied into some of the other hanging threads running around which this comment makes me think might be part of the plan, although I will have to wait and see what happens.

[Jerky]

Ah, you spoil me Handy!

[Rakdar]

As a writer myself(hah, yeah right) I keep trying to come with a story in this kind of genre. However, I keep running into a wall. I can never get the characters to act, or react in a way that not only would fit canonically, but also make sense and develop the plot. I have a hard time pacing the story and i think my attempts at character development fall flat, are rushed, or just plain dont make any sense. As a fellow author, what would you suggest?