Gold Wins Wars

by Verlax

Chapter VIII - At Least, The Name

The Victual Brothers (the Vitalians, Vitalian Brotherhood, also known as Victa) were a companionship of privateers who later turned to piracy. The Victual Brothers also gave themselves the name Likedeelers ("equal sharers"): they claimed to share with the poor coastal population, in exchange for allowing them to hide in their midst/in the surrounding area. They expanded their activities into the North Sea and along the Equestrian coastline, raiding and pillaging settlements in their range. The Vitalians’ modus operandi included, but was not limited to land raids, utilizing lanterns to bait ships into shallows, boarding trade vessels, smuggling contraband, and demanding tribute from smaller settlements. At the peak of their power the Vitalian Brotherhood could muster up an armada to rival the entirety of the Equestrian fleet at the time.

- Experct from Encyclopedica Equestriana

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They were late.

The first sign that something wasn’t right was the smoke. Dark clouds billowed high above the small town. The Little Conqueror was sailing as fast as it could, but it was still not enough. One look through the spyglass helped Winterspell to estimate that they came about ten minutes too late. Shaking his head and cursing under his breath, he turned to see the mercenaries mustering behind him. The nobles from Danzig were making their last preparations - sharpening their blades, equipping armour and… imbibing themselves with the contents of several mysterious flasks. Great. Those Lün-damned drunkards started drinking when he wasn’t looking!

Casimir, who was the first pony to end his preparations approached the silently seething captain.

“We are almost ready!” the pegasus reported.

“I can see that.” Winterspell muttered, giving the quickly emptying flasks a dirty look and then pointing towards the oversized buffalo “And the au… auri… au…”

“Auroch?” Casimir finished for him. “Nah, he doesn’t need any weapons.”

That made sense. After but a glance Winterspell had to admit that those horns looked deadly enough as they were. Shaking his head once more the pegasus concentrated on more pressing matters, like trying to decided what to do with the situation at hoof.. He had no plan in case the Victual pirates reached Fishenheim first. Part of him wanted to just turn tail and sail away, hoping the Vitalains wouldn’t notice his cog. After all Winterspell decided to interfere only because they had a chance to not fight them in the first place.

“If the wind doesn’t change and they take their time with the civilians we could be half way to Ridge by the time they realize we were even here.” He thought to himself, unconsciously inching towards the steering wheel. Before he even took a step though he froze, his eyes landing on one of the mercenaries, his mustached face set in a determined glare as he gazed upon the billowing smoke clouds above Fishenheim. Seeing that, the resolve in the eyes of what basically was hired muscle stirred something in his own heart. Taking a deep breath Winterspell looked at the coast again, a faint flicker of fire starting to burn behind his own orbs.

“Okay, let’s think this through… maybe if we could try to only engage their raid party on land and free what civilians there are left in the ensuing confusion... yes, that could work actually…”

The squad of Danzingians gave him their readies, even if he couldn’t understand a word they said. Winterspell turned to his boatswain, the pony at the helm trying hard to not fall asleep.

“Quick Signal, you take the bridge until I get back..” he ordered. “In the meantime approach the coast as close as you can to give us a smooth landing spot!”

“Aye, aye…” the unicorn responded, adjusting their course with a slight turn of the wheel.

Their cog was slowly approaching the land. Judging from where the smoke was originating from the captain estimated their goal was over a nearby forested hill, perfect for concealing their approach. The plan for now was to land in the estuary of a nearby creek about a quarter mile away from Fishenheim. After that they’d have to feel out the situation and make plans accordingly. Winterspell turned again towards his armed group. The captain wanted to check what exactly they’d be carrying into battle. He counted eighteen sabers, three crossbows, six… lances!?

“Yea, we brought some of them with us.” Seeing the baffled expression on Winterspell’s face Casimir launched into an explanation. “As nobles, basically knights, we’re quite apt at using lances. Trust me, they can have a devastating effect during the initial charge, and once that’s done we’ll just abandon them so they don’t get in the way.”

“Sounds good.” Winterspell muttered, taking his explanation at face value.. The captain himself had his trusty old saber at his side, as well as a few javelins.

The Little Conqueror quickly reached the coast. To lead by example Winterspell took into the air and landed first at the sands of the small beach. The pegasi in the group took off too and landed to his side him. The unicorns and earth ponies were forced to jump into the water and then swim a few meters to the land. One particular unicorn, Twardowsky if Winterspell recounted his twisted name correctly, landed pretty badly - face first into the water. He emerged soon after, cursing in his native language and assuring in broken cirran that “that was intentional”. The whole group assembled once again in about one or two minutes.

“Okay, move out!” he gestured, trusting that the simple motion would do all the translation for him. Hearing the mercenaries regroup and follow him assured him that body language indeed was the best language..

Their pack quickly made their way towards the forest. Winterspell could tell from the smell of burning wood that Fishenheim was nearby. Approaching the other end of the thicket they slowed down, the captain hoping to use the element of surprise. Considering the damned Danzigians seemed not to understand the concept of stealth and talking all the way through the forest that would be a miracle.

That quickly changed once their eyes fell on the site of Fishenheim.

The entirety of the village was built out of wood, even the local temple. There was no place to truly hide, nor was there a barricade to defend the hamlet with. Almost everything down there was alight in flames, a raging inferno consuming what once were homes and workshops. There was only one structure that wasn’t burning, and only because it was located further from the village itself, overlooking a dirt road in the distance. The crops on what little fields were surrounding Fishenheim were damaged beyond recovery, the crops either stolen or left to burn.

And then there were the Vitalian pirates themselves. There were ponies of every race in their ranks, yet all of them looked basically the same. These chaotic long manes, these leather armours, crude axes and battered crossbows, truly unmistakable. The way they acted only confirmed their alignment; they didn’t even pay attention to the fact the whole village they were in was burning around them. Those bandits were casually walking between the blazing ruins, laughing stupidly at the carnage they made themselves. The most disturbing thing however was the distinct lack of bodies. Not even one victim of the Victuals could be seen, and it made the captain’s skin crawl.

He turned very slowly towards his group. The Danzingian nobles were looking at the Victual pirates with a mix of anxiety and utter contempt in their eyes, some of them gritting their teeth while others silently sneered at them.

“Casimir, translate.” he ordered. The pegasus coughed quietly and prepared to translate to his comrades whatever hastily put together plan Winterspell came up with.

“I see only two explanations why there are no bodies on the streets: either the pirates herded them inside one of the burning houses to die, or they’re being held captive..” He started, his voice sounding like he was trying to reassure himself more than he tried to direct his men. “Okay, now orders. All of you with crossbows, wait here and aim at any Victa pirates you can get a shot at.. The rest will go with me. We’ll try to sneak up…”

“Erm…”

“To this building on the left. We will bypass it from the left side and we’ll attack from this direction. If those bastards will spot us earlier…”

“Winterspell…”

“What?” he asked annoyed. “I hope you translated all of this!”

“No, no! I mean… maybe you should look around.” Casimir suggested.

Winterspell turned away from the burning village and ended up staring into thin air. The entire group with the expectation of Casimir was no longer there. His jaw dropped to the ground. How in Tartarus did they even manage to do that?

“Horse feathers.” he cursed. “Where did they go? I hope they didn’t…”

“SZARŻAA!!” Winterspell heard a sudden cry and immediately smacked his own face. The entire group, his group, of twenty armed to the teeth ponies was charging through the plain, head on with their sabers, lances and crossbows at the ready, held either in their hooves, mouths, or held within their magical grip, screaming battle cries and curses in their native language.

“Oh for the love of...” Winterspell murmured. “Casimir, onward! We need to save these idiots!”

“Aye!” the noble nodded and followed his fellow pegasus, both of them trying to catch up with the screaming nobles.

The few pirates that were on the outskirts, seeing a mass of twenty ponies charging in the tight formation down the hill quickly lost their good moods and let their instincts respond in the way normal ponies were designed to - they started running for their lives in any which way, most of them trying to get to the center of the village. One of the pirates was unfortunate enough not to be gifted enough in the self-preservation department and lacked the good sense to run away, instead staring dumbly at what was transpiring in front of him.. By the time he realised he probably should’ve moved it was a little too late, and he ended up impaled on one of the lances and pinned to a nearby wooden wall. The screaming pirate was spared the agony by a passing noble, who took the time to perform a coup de grace with his saber, ending his suffering. The group continued its advance, moving further into the settlement without running into much in terms of opposition. Winterspell and Casimir where just fast on their heels, screaming at those braindead idiots to stop. They might as well try and teach a bison to tapdance.

By that time they were in Fishenheim itself. Winterspell, with dreadful clarity realised that charging head on like they already had was indeed - a terrible idea. For there, in the very middle of the village a score of at least forty more pirates awaited them, their reckless charge alerting them to the presence of fresh guests.

The center consisted of a market square, now looking more like the aftermath of a great battle than a place dedicated to the art of commerce. In the distant the galleass that brought those marauders to Fishenheim loomed ominously, huge and dreadful. It was sitting right next to the pier, moored as if a simple fishing vessel and not a vessel bringing death to the people. The bastard pirates took their time to bring their ship to port, as if they owned the place.

The marketplace was also littered with dead bodies, most of them civilians judging from their lack of armour. Just looking at them would make any pony queasy; the state of mutilation of most of them was beyond that any decent fellow would be able to inflict upon another. Missing legs, disemboweled bellies with guts spilling onto the ground, heads crushed into paste... Swallowing, Winterspell averted his gaze from the gruesome site and by complete chance noticed that not all of the locals were dead. A group of about thirty unarmed civilians was huddled together to the side, watched over by a small number of sneering pirates, leveling their weapons on the unfortunate souls.

Seeing civilians the first line of the mercenaries stopped dead in their tracks, the second line bumping into their rears and stopping as well. Winterspell used this to finally catch up with them and move to the front of the pack, hoping to somehow salvage the situation. The marauders in front of them scrambled in the meantime, taking up defensive positions and forming a line of shabby looking pirates armed to the teeth with crude, jagged, but most importantly deadly weapons..

Actually, now that Winterspell had a better view of the situation he realised how off his initial assumptions were. What he at first concluded were about forty Vitalians ended up being over sixty. At least eight of them were carrying crossbows, at least forty more had crooked sabers and small wooden shields, there were also small axes and other weaponry thrown into the mix. In short, the situation looked grim. Not only were they terribly outnumbered, but by now they had no real way of saving the civilians or bailing it without being decimated by the marauders.

For a few seconds the two groups just stood there, glaring at one another and adjusting their grips on their weapons. From behind the Vitalians ranks yet another pirate emerged, yet this one was far different from the others.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

The Vitalian was an earth pony, but one whose appearance was far from what could be described as ordinary. He was a massive individual, towering above his companions, rivaling even the massive size of their auroch, Weird Hoar. Covered with brown fur far wilder than the typical coat of a pony, his very form was grotesque enough to again make Winterspell feel weak in his legs. His front right leg was bulging with muscles, far larger than the slender right leg. The hoof on the more muscular side seemed to be cracked, as if unable to keep up with the growth of his muscle mass. In fact, the entirety of his left side would seem more at place on a buffalo than on a pony; the muscle mass on that side was inconsistent with what was anatomically possible, bulges of thews seemed to stick out in odd places and attached to his bones in ways that they shouldn’t yet he was able to move without much difficulty, even if his uneven form made his gait all skewed. He looked like he was a victim of a mad scientist’s project gone horribly wrong..

The only part of his body could be consider “normal” was his head and face. He was wearing a cheeky smirk, grinning widely with confidence. His mane was short and light in comparison to the rest of body. The Vitalian leader looked at their group with mix of contempt and curiosity.

“Who’s your leader?” he asked, still wearing the same smirk. “I want to know the names of those, that I am about to slaughter.”

“I am. My name is Winterspell. ” the pegasus stepped forward, standing in front of his group. The Vitalian arbalists shifted their aim. Taking a glance Winterspell confirmed his suspicions -they were now aiming solely at him. He doubted his reflex was good enough to avoid getting shot. Focusing back on the big guy, the captain noticed something he found peculiar: the “leader” of the Vitalians was the only pony that wasn’t bearing any weapon.

“Winterspell.” the auroch-sized abomination tasted the name. He slowly nodded to himself and looked the captain over. “Now, seeing that I’m in a particularly good mood, and after seeing you don’t have any business being here, how about you... turn around and head back home, hmm?”

Casimir slowly inched towards Winterspell. “Technically he is right, but accepting would be absolutely dishonourable and unacceptable” he whispered into his ear.

“Are you trying to say those idiots you call companions won’t listen to me and fight them when if we are absolutely outnumber?” Winterspell replied incredulously.

“Hmm… yes.”

“Fuck.” was the only thing Winterspell could really say.

“It’s not like I do not want, or can’t kill you right now…” the Vitalian leader continued. “But I’m a bit tired after squashing two dozens ponies already. It’s way over my daily limit.”

Winterspell managed to ignore his rambling and keep a straight face. The rest of his men weren’t that successful, gritting their teeth and muttering obscenities in their native tongue. The only reason the nobles hadn’t attacked yet was because they rather not risk the wellbeing of the civilians.

“So no retreating?”

“I will not be able to convince them. No chance.” Casimir answered, his expression deeply troubled.

Winterspell sighed and closed his eyes.

“Order our aurorch, Weird Hoar, to lead the charge. Tell him to start once the big guy finishes talking. Aim at the center.” he whispered back his orders, a hastily drawn plan taking shape in his mind.

Casimir turned to pass the order on, meanwhile Winterspell focused once more on the insolent Vitalian leader. He needed to hold the conservation for a few moments and buy his group some time.

“We can leave and go ‘our own way’ as you say, that’s fine. But we’re taking the civilians with us.” he stated firmly.

The Vitalian laughed at his declaration. “You know why we aren’t fighting yet?”

“Nooo?” Winterspell replied, trying to maintain it as long as possible.

“Because you are quite hilarious when you’re trying to keep this conversation going.” the behemoth answered, still chucking. He stopped a few seconds later, his smile suddenly vanishing. “Kill them.”

Winterspell immediately dropped to the ground, knowing that the Victa arbalistis aimed at him. Thanks to his quick thinking all the bolts flew above him, missing him and sailing harmlessly away from the battlefield. The Vitalians formed a tight formation and slowly started to advance.

“Wpieriod Weird Hoar! Wpierriood!” Casimir gave the order. The auroch charged with surprising speed towards the line of pirates, leaving clouds of dust in his wake. The horned horror was so heavy that Winterspell could swear that the earth quaked beneath his hooves every time they connected with the ground. Weird Hoar lowered his head, pointing his two long horns at the unprepared brigands. The nobles in turn charged right behind the auroch, screaming, hollering, and flailing their weapons at the nearest enemies.

Every tactician worth his title would say that a charge performed by a force outnumbered by a 3:1 ratio, especially one made in plain site and without the element of surprise was doomed to fail. Unfortunately for the tacticians however, Winterspell’s mercenaries didn’t know that. The Vitalians should’ve been able to stop their charge easily. All they had to do was to maintain order, prepare what little pikes they had and concentrate their efforts on stopping Weird Hoar. However they didn’t. They were after all just a bunch of seafaring bandits with no real military experience, and where there’s a lack of discipline and training there the ugly head of unprofessionalism and plain instinctual reactions rises. Seeing the terrifying mass of muscles charging at their lines, its absurdly long and wickedly sharp horns pointed at them fear overrode what little rational thinking they were capable of. The first rank, in their futile attempt to save their lives tried to run back. Unfortunately, there was no place to run, for the second rank was blocking their way, frozen in shock. The entire formation crumbled and in but a fraction of a second Weird Hoar crashed into them, sending several ponies flying through the air and others crushed beneath his hooves, not even slowing the auroch in his terrifying charge. The great bovine was quickly joined by the nobles charging with their lances leveled, impaling one dozen opponents during their initial strike. The battle had just started.

Winterspell joined the assault as well, in two quick steps reaching the closest pirate with his saber. The brigand wasn’t expecting it, too shocked by the charge, and the blade cleanly pierced his chest. The pegasus quickly freed his blade and parried an attack from the pirate’s comrade, producing a shower of sparks as he blocked. Winterspell quickly countered, preparing a quick feint. His opponent couldn’t predict he’d shift the grip of his weapon mid-blow, and in doing so the blade would strike from a different angle. Yet another marauder bit the dust.

Of course, it wasn’t as that reckless as it sounded. The plan Winterspell came up with was focused on two things - making sure the Vitalians would panic and ensure the civilians had an opening to escape. In essence - he was buying them time. He noticed earlier that while the locals were being led towards the moored galleass before their attack, now nopony seemed to be guarding them. He hoped those ponies would see this opportunity to escape and use it. In the heat of battle however Winterspell couldn’t keep an eye on them, so the pegasus hoped they were smart enough to use the opportunity and focused back on the fight.

Not too far from him sir Hoodripper and his absurdly big zweihufer were having the time of their lives, swinging the oversized weapon in wide arcs and splitting nearby enemies in half. The style of fighting with such a weapon was clearly offensive, it was almost impossible to parry or dodge while using it. Hoodripper however didn’t need any of that; his blade was hitting with the power of a hurricane, breaking shields like they were made out of eggs, cutting through armor like it was as thin as paper and even breaking and bending enemy blades simply by hitting them with forceful strikes. True to his oath, he was trying to find himself in favorable conditions- seeking a way to cut three heads with one swipe. He couldn’t however find three favorably positioned pirates, but nonetheless he scored two decapitations. Soon the pirates started avoiding him altogether, seeing that no blade, no armor, and no shield could stop Hoodripper’s swings.

Little Knight was also faring well. The small stallion picked a dreadful opponent with a huge scar going through the entirety of his face, smiling with anticipation. Little Knight’s saber met his enemy’s dull blade, starting the duel. In comparison to Hoodripper and his brute strength approach, the small stallion favored quickness and finesse, his blade a blur in the air and his moves precise and dance-like. The confrontation ended in but two seconds after Little Knight’s blade found a hole in his opponent's defence and quickly slashed his throat open. Quickly the little fury chose another Vitalian, but his would-be opponent fell in single moment, slashed in the side by the noble’s initial strike. Little Knight seemed… disappointed.

And then there was Weird Hoar, running around in circles and ramming the shit out of everypony in his way, breaking necks, ribs, and limbs. Oh well.

The battle was pure chaos. Once the Vitalian formation broke after Weird Hoar’s initial charge there was nothing left that would resemble order. The entire skirmish turned into a bloodbath, in which it was Vitalian blood that stained the ground of Fishenheim red. It was clear who was winning after less than a minute, and it made all the tacticians in the world shiver as they felt a great disturbance in military tactics. Even though they started with superior number, the pirates’ advantage quickly melted away, either by their forces being crushed and killed or the cowardly ones decided to flee. Their numbers were soon nullified to the point where it was the mercenaries who had numerical superiority.

However the chaos was a double edged sword. In this overall commotion Winterspell couldn’t find the Vitalian leader, this strange abomination of a pony having all but vanished into thin air. The captain was killing those bloody bastards left and right, casting his gaze wherever he could, but the gigantic earth pony was nowhere to be seen. He turned to see one of the arbalists from before reloading his weapon and glaring towards him. Winterspell didn’t give him a chance, immediately throwing one of his javelins at him. The projectile pierced the pirate’s armor without difficulty and pierced him in his guts. The Vitalian fell face first onto the muddy ground. Winterspell turned around once more.

“Where are you!?” he cried. He was starting to get real pissed by now. Adrenaline was pumping in his veins, screaming at him to continue on with this tedious slaughter. However, Winterspell believed that they could win only if they managed to eliminate the pirate leader. The captain barely avoided an unexpected blow from a nearby pirate, failing to pay attention. He was saved however by Casimir who just happened to be nearby, clearing his way with his saber. Winterspell wasn’t able to thank him however, as his savior went off to find another fight. Shaking off his surprise the captain called out once more. “Where are you, you horeson!?”

“Right here.”

Winterspell whirled around. He realised terrified in that moment, that the whole idea behind the battle had one, glaring fault in the form of the pirate leader.

The abominable stallion still didn’t take up any arms, though he didn’t really need any. The thing that made Winterspell stop in his track was fact that he was pinning down a civilian with his hoof, keeping it on his head as he desperately tried to free himself. The whole battle suddenly came to a halt, the Danzingians realising they had a huge problem, and Vitalians realising they suddenly had the upper hoof.

“I really like moments like this.” the pirate leader said. “He tried to escape… that was your plan, wasn’t it? To distract us so those worthless land rats could escape? Well then, how does it feel to fail so miserably?

“Let me go!” the stallion screamed, desperately trying to get from under him. Instead of responding, the pirate leader pinned his head a little tighter to the ground. His oversized hoof was nearly the size of the unfortunate civilian’s head.

“Well? What now Winterspell?” he asked slowly, clearly enjoying the fact it was him who held all the cards now. Meanwhile both group assembled around their respective leaders, the nobles behind Winterspell and the Vitalians behind the giant stallion. The pegasus realized with defeat that his plan really did fail miserably, all of the civilians still huddled up in their place, too terrified to even move. Winterspell couldn’t really blame them - they did end up in the middle of a war zone and probably were still shell-shocked from the pirate raid itself to even attempt to run.

Winterspell stood still as a statue, yet his mind was racing. What now, what now!? If his objective still was saving innocent ponies, then there was no way to do it now but through diplomacy. The only question was how should he do that? Should he threatened him, bribe him? Or maybe try and negotiate?

He looked behind and quickly scanned the status of his own men. To his surprise, they didn’t lose a single pony, a few of them slightly wounded but nothing else, so it was them who had superior numbers right now. The only one out of commision right now was Weird Hoar, who happened to impale one of the Vitalians on his horn and couldn’t remove the screaming unicorn, even with the help of two other nobles.

With that argument in mind, he decided for the thought approach.

“I don’t think your men want to die.” he stepped forward. “They know that fighting with us will end poorly for them, and trust me - we can slaughter you lot. So here’s my proposition: you let the civilians go, all of them, and we’ll let you go unmolested.”

“Is that so?” the Vitalian leader looked down at the pinned unicorn. “Let me make you a counter proposition then: you and your ponies will stand back and let us go, or we’ll kill the civilians. All of them.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Winterspell responded quickly.

The Vitalian smirked and stepped on his prisoner’s head with his whole mass, the poor unicorn’s head splitting open like a watermelon, bits of his skull and brain matter splattering onto the giant. The lifeless body of the Fishenheimian twitched on the dirt road until the behemoth kicked it out of the way. Winterspell pulled out his saber once more and was about to charge, but the pirates immediately pushed another hostage towards their leader

“Bastard!” Winterspell cursed, realising he would be risking the life of yet another pony.

“Sometimes I forget how strong I really am. I only wanted to make him scream, really.” the abomination laughed, placing his hoof on the head of his new hostage. “It’s ironic, really. The pony I have here is the maggot’s son. He’s so scared he can’t even say a word. It’s so… dull.” he noted.

The colt was staring forward, his gaze unfocused, too shocked to register both the death of his father and the words of his captor. Winterspell wasn’t even sure if he was awake, his limbs limp and unmoving.

“Well, enough’s enough. Likedeelers!” the behemoth cried to the rest of his group, the pirates immediately snapping to attention. “Take the prisoners on the ship. We’re leaving.”

Winterspell in his emotional state consider attacking, but he quickly realised if he did that he’d doomed the civilians to death. He had failed. The nobles behind him were greeting their teeth, but this was all they could do in this situation, recognizing they had been bested. Weird Hoar finally removed the bloody pirate corpse from his horn.

The unfortunate civilians were being slowly dragged towards the pirate galleass. The only pony to linger was the giant brigand leader, smirking triumphantly at Winterspell, and the young pony under his hoof.

“You know, I just realised. You gave me your name, but I didn’t give you mine in return. Such a faux pas on my part. I should return the favour. I’m Souther, and I hope this name shall be engraved in your mind.” the leader said, allowing his men to take the son from his hooves.

Winterspell said nothing.

After a few seconds they were all gone. The Vitalians and all their captives were already on their ship. Only Souther remained. He was scanning Winterspell and his mercenaries with his dark eyes for a few seconds and then without any preamble turned back and joined his crew. Soon after the rowers started working and the galleass set sail.

All that remained on the ground was Winterspell, his armed companions, and the smoldering remains of what once was Fishenheim Harbour. Desolation. Ruin. Devoid of any life. The dead bodies of simple ponies and pirates alike littering the streets. And the feeling of defeat.

Casimir approached Winterspell cautiously, the captain standing in the middle of all this with his gaze cast at the slowly retreating galleass. “What now?”

“It’s over.” he sighed. “There is nothing left to do. All we can is dig graves for the victims, and nothing more.” he fell silent, still gazing at the galleass.

“Winter?” Casimir tried to get his attention.

The pegasus sighed again. He seemed calm on the exterior, but the Danzingian couldn’t be sure if he really was, or was it just a really well crafted mask.

“Start digging graves. I need to rest.” Winterspell finally said.

“And the Vitalians?”

Instead of answering, Winterspell shot him a glare. The answer was obvious.

Casimir passed the order to the rest. They decided to do it deeper inland, using the cornfield a few hundred meters away from city. The soil there was softer and it was easier to dig in. The group didn’t have shovels to aid them in their grim task, so it took some time. After a few hours twelve ponies from Fishenheim unfortunate enough to perish received proper burial. The pirates were left for the crows.

While Casimir and the others were struggling with their task, Winterspell was still on the coast, still observing the horizon where the galleass vanished. He was sitting on a rock, just a few inches above the sea level.

“Souther.” Winterspell murmured.

Ironically, the weather today was perfect. The sky was completely cloudless, it was warm, with a soft breeze moving through the air. It was completely opposite to the state of Winterspell’s mind. He barely perceived the stench of smoke from the burned houses, yet he couldn’t free himself from the smell of blood his clothes and fur was permeated with.

Emotions were burning inside him, he had problems with controlling his accelerated breathing, but he was determined to keep his fury at bay, at least until they get onto his ship and was in the safe heaven of his personal cabin. There he could drop his mask.

Winterspell stood up, feeling that the mercenaries had already did their jobs and realising that the crew of his ship would start to worry. He cast one last glance at the sea.

“At least I know your name.” he muttered to himself.

Comments

[Zennyth]

Did the civilians have a clear shot at escaping on their own?

I did have to laugh at the mercenaries pulling a Leroy Jenkins.

And now Winterspell has himself a foe. I wonder what the deal is with his odd physical condition. Nice work!

[djthomp]

Man, those pirates sure weren't prepared for this particular band of mercenaries. It didn't exactly end well, but those redshirts went down hard.

[Brown Books]

The charge was freaking awesome! Damn it that bovine really did em nice!

But in all honesty Winterspell should have just killed the bastards...god damn it! I know it sounds immoral to risk the civilians and all but jeez. Sacrifice a few to save many. But well done indeed, simply seeing Winterspell's inner conflict between doing the heroic thing or just stay out of trouble was nice as well.

Goid chapter, sweet and merciless action, wasn't too much annoying description like some people do with fight scenes. Keep up the good work!!!

[Zevski]

5631006
They had a shot at escaping but were too terrified to do anything, damn peasants.

[RoboRed]

pegasus concentrated on more pressing matters, like trying to decided what to do with the situation at

decide