In the Company of the Deceased

by DashFire61

The Lowliest Piece (revised)

The Lowliest Piece

1 month before the events of Breaking Point

A shuffling from the other side of the magically reinforced steel door, the howling of the western wind that was common this time of the year, a dripping leak in the corner that was almost comically inconsistent; leaving him alone to ponder cynical thoughts only to interrupt his silent contemplation when he was certain he was close to a *drip* revelation. He had grown accustomed to the noises of this dreary cell, to the rough stone stealing warmth from his back as he shifted his weight, and to the shades of its slate-grey walls. What he had not come to accept yet was that these sensations would be some of the last things to be added to his diminutive repertoire of worldly experiences. Taking a deep breath through his nose he savored the metallic smell of water on stone.

He turned his head to glance at the only other occupant in the cell, a cerulean weaver. It had a body that appeared almost crystalline in its striking edges and opaque blue chromatism.

“Indigenous only to the northern barrier lands, they possess a very special kind of webbing; it is solid until it comes into contact with temperatures higher than the normal ambient weather for the extreme north; it will then melt and form around the source of heat, immobilizing it so the arachnid can investigate and hopefully feed, of course insects don’t produce much heat and few species live in this climate anyway, this blue little architect prefers small rodents.”

At least, that is what the tome that the guards had given him had said.

They were surprisingly accommodating when he asked for such things, especially considering the charges he was indicted with. The only thing particularly uncomfortable was the amount of food he received, a hunk of bread a day. It arrived at relatively midday and was only a few mouthfuls. He harbored no spite however, he knew very well that he had gotten himself in here, did that mean he felt remorse? Not in the least, he just wished he had been more prudent with his methods, so as to prevent himself being observed committing his crimes. It was a surprisingly lackluster memory given how long he had waited for the opportunity and how romanticized it had become in his head. How easy it had been to lose himself in his own feelings; justifying his actions with misplaced righteous fury.

He let his head lull back to a natural rest and observed the markings on the wall from previous occupants. Signatures mostly, they were embossed onto the stone with a myriad of methods, an obvious knife used here, the burn of a unicorn’s magic there, even what appeared to be blood; bound to the stone and kept looking fresh with some form of magic.

He glanced at the spider once more, gaining a weird sense of comfort as it observed him; deciding he trusted his eight legged companion enough to wake him if a problem arose, the haggard pegasus glanced up at the ceiling and drifted to sleep.

.•o0O0o•.

Sepia visions clouded his sleep. All of them moving much too fast to be coherent, but as he focused more intently they slowed and a memory formed.

A warm cottage lit by the late evening rays of Celestia’s sun was graced by the sweet fragrance of potato soup. A beautifully worn and tired pegasus mare stood before a small table blowing into the belly of grey blue yearling filly who responded with shrill giggling. Her once cream coat had signs of staining from the labor of perpetual house work and the bags under her eyes were traced with the wrinkles of smiling eyes that had endured the years; freckles dotted her cheeks like little dew drops.The mare turned and looked down at him before nuzzling him and moving to the hearth where she stirred a big pot, using a worn wooden ladle held in her mouth. Stray hairs flitted across her forehead and past her eyes as she glanced back at smiled at the two little foals.

The door to the cottage swung open and an earthpony stallion with the same coat as the little yearling stepped through from outside, the last rays of light departing the sky behind him. The mare left the ladle by the pot and met him at the door with an affectionate nuzzle. He returned the greeting albeit with a rushed and preoccupied air about him. A few hushed words were followed by a sidelong glance at the foals and she ushered him into the back room. Their voices carried past the door but the syllables were caught by the wood, a dull noise that didn’t hold the attention of the young colt left in the room. He looked to his sister who was busy trying to eat her hoof, she twisted her mouth into a smile behind her foreleg and squawked as babies do. He trotted over to the corner of the room where his things were; a few peculiar looking sticks and a handful of shiny rocks were littered on a small table his father had crafted him. A small wooden sword and a bucket were tucked underneath incase he ever needed to defend his family from the beasts of the wild, but his most prized possession sat in the middle of the table, wrapped in a thin velvet cloth. It was easily one of the most expensive things in their household, a gift from a lord in Bastion who his father had saved, he had also given his father a new set of armor as well as a ruby pendant to his mother. He gently lifted the cloth to look at it, a magnificently crafted puzzle, thousands of moving parts, encrusted in gems and carved with a detail level so precise he would need a magnifying glass just to glimpse a portion of the intricacies. He had spent the better part of the last two years working on it and still hadn’t even managed to get through the first layer. He looked to the note that sat next to the puzzle,

To the son of a most honorable stallion:

Your father is one of the greatest ponies I have had the

pleasure to know. I hope that this gift will help you to

follow in his hoofsteps. With each layer you crack you

will be given a message that will help you to solve not

only the next layer but the underlying mystery inside.

I also extend the offer to come visit me at any time

for any reason, I owe my life to your father and it is the

least I can do to offer my home to his family.

Good Luck, -Lord Nightquill of Bastion City

He set the letter down and looked the puzzle over, he had hit a wall in the last few days and couldn’t tell how to progress. Frustrated he laid the cloth over the puzzle once more and went to check on his sister. She had given up on her hoof and was instead chewing on the frayed end of her blanket. Climbing atop the table in the middle of the room he sat down next to her and went about straightening her mane, the white noise of conversation still droning on. Before too long he found himself to be doting on a very asleep younger sister. He finished up fixing her mane and hopped down to floor with a sigh.

Growing bored again he started to examine the pot of soup. He wasn’t quite high enough to look into it so he tried to stand on his rear legs, wobbling back and forth the little pegasus's forelegs periodically would shoot out to counterbalance his shifting hooves on the floor, but he got to close and his hoof brushed the pot and seared the flesh above his left hoof, burning the off-cream fur from his foreleg. The colt yelped, flapping his wings enough to pick him up off the ground a few inches before he fell to his back. The voices from the back room stopped as the door opened and the mare walked out followed by her husband. She trotted to her son and consoled him with loving whispers. Her husband glanced to them before stepping to and peering out the window. Soft snow fell outside as frost crept from the corners of the glass framing the grimace that was etched into his visage.

.•o0O0o•.

The scrape of the door latch resounding through the cell woke him up while the door swung inward letting brighter lights into the dank stone room. A voice akin to the puff of a dropped bag of flour pompfed from the slightly ajar door as it it creaked open, “stand up.”

He sat up struggling to clear the sleep from his eyes before sliding off the slab that served as his bed and to his hooves. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the light that ringed the figure in the doorway. The unicorn standing before him had scars like canyons carved across his face. A dark indigo coat and a short black mane that was comb separated to either side gave him a stately look, while the dagger at his side and the stealy scowl on his face very much suggested the contrary of the sentiment.

"Close your eyes," came the second command.

He closed them and promptly discovered he could not reopen them, too late he noticed the quiet mumble of the unicorns incantations. An irritated huff left his lips, “this is completely unnecessar...”

His hearing went next.

He felt the itchy grasp of rope as it rubbed over his neck. The guard, presumably the guard, fastened it around his throat and led him out into the snow. He followed as well as he could, bumping against this, scraping his skin against that, occasionally he fell to his knees as something crushed against one of his forelegs. He stumbled back to his hooves as the rope unapologetically continued dragging him along. He shuffled along for a good five minutes, through a few halls and down several flights of stairs before they came to what was apparently their final destination. He could hear a massive set of doors groan as they were parted, before being pulled through them and dragged to the center of the room, the doors shut behind them and judging from the reverberation of the noise, the room they were in was quite large. The pegasus was shoved down interrupting his thoughts as he was pressed against a cold, smooth floor; the side of his face numb with the force of the impact. He laid there, a pressure from behind holding him down. It dawned on him, after a while of unmoving waiting; that he could hear again. Little creaks here and there, a shuffle behind him as his restrainer shifted his weight.

“I’d tell you not to make any sudden movements,” It was the same voice as before, “but it wouldn't matter if you did.” The pressure disappeared and he stumbled to his feet, tentatively his eyes fluttered open. Before him stretched a small hall, about two hundred feet long, fifteen or so feet across and with an immensely high vaulted ceiling.

”So that’s where the echo came from,” He mumbled to himself as he gazed around the room. It was made entirely of a smoky quartz crystal, chiseled and polished to a sheen. The torches that lined the hall every ten paces refracted across the surfaces of the hall taking on a jagged appearance, their flames dancing about the space like shattered energy. The prince stood at the end of the hall next to an obsidian podium. The prince himself looked to be chiseled out of the stone of tartarus itself, A dark grey coat covered his body, growing dark where the cords of his muscles rippled beneath his skin, and a crimson mane that looked almost ablaze framed his face. The Podium he stood at looked to be rising out of the ground, carved from the same material as the rest of the hall it had a cloudy black coloration and was almost transparent around the edges. He had heard talk of this place before, The Judgement Hall.

“Walk,” The guard wheezed out the order before prodding him roughly from behind. He stumbled forward a few steps before catching himself; lifting his chest higher and keeping his chin up as he walked forward, determined to carry himself with a semblance of pride. But as he neared the podium and the prince he became acutely aware of the sound of his own hooves on the polished floor and as his gaze met that of the resolute ruler his demeanor faltered and his steps became shuffles as he closed the last few feet, his gaze dropped.

The words that left the Prince’s mouth conveyed no emotion, “You are quite lucky, we recently had a few openings in the 47th.” The prince levitated a piece of parchment out of a small drawer on the podium, he then set it on atop the black stand as a knife chiseled itself out of the quartz around it, leaving behind the shape of its absence in the wall before it took a place alongside the parchment. “As I’m sure you know it is your only other option barring execution. Seeing as how I’d rather not waste an able body, I’m offering you one more chance at life.” The ash grey Alicorn looked up from the document and at him. “What is your decision?”

The Prisoner’s wings shuffled on his sides as he mustered enough courage and resolve to meet the gaze of the ancient god who had addressed him. “That is a gracious offer my prince, I.” He swallowed and tried to find his voice, “I... I accept.”

Appearingly disinterested as ever, the prince lowered the knife down to the pegasus along with the parchment, “I trust you will not need aid sealing the blood pact?”

The pegasus slowly shook his head and grasped the knife with his mouth, the sharp shard bit into his gums as he tightened his jaws around it. A blood pact was a very serious thing, his life force would be bound to this paper from now on, should the paper be torn or burned he would crumble to dust and the paper would release his life force in one manner or another, some of the stories were better left untold. He brought the blades’ razor edge to the flesh a few centimeters above his right hoof and dragged it across with a steady movement. The crystal bit into his foreleg easily and blood began to mat and stain his fur, before dripping down his hoof. His teeth clamped down on the blade’s edges as his nerves burned at the self inflicted wound, the cuts in his gums deepening. He tried to regain his composure as he waited for his hoof to be sufficiently coated in crimson, the pain faded into a numb throb. Blood leaked off his leg onto the ground in thick smatterings; confident in the coverage he then pressed his hoof against the contract, wincing as the pressure reignited the pain in his foreleg. Pulling back his leg he saw the crescent shaped imprint on the paper, it glowed of black fire for a brief second before it faded back to just blood on parchment. The prince followed suit, leaving his royal mark upon the contract, before placing it inside another drawer in the black stand.

“You will spend the night in your cell,” The Prince looked to the unicorn guard with the indigo coat, who moved from the side of the hall towards them. “tomorrow you will be escorted to your new barracks.”

This time the dark blue unicorn simply gestured for him to follow with a simple turn of the head rather than blinding him and dragging him with the rope. He followed the unicorn through the hallways he had previously felt. They saw few other living creatures and those they did see elected not say anything nor did they look in their direction. Catching a glimpse of the outside as they passed a courtyard he saw that it was snowing once again. A small group of ponies were heading into the local watering hole, accompanied by boisterous laughter and the clinking of metal armor. He could smell burning wood and cooking food wafting from the tavern before it was once again cut off by the long stone halls.

Back in his cell he used some water that trickled in from the window to clean out his mouth; spitting crimson in the corner he turned and limped over to check on the small spider he had been keeping company with, before deciding he’d ask for a jar tomorrow so as to bring the blue arachnid with him. He stumbled onto the cot on the side of the cell, still nursing his wounded leg. Moving his gaze to his forelegs a small smile found its way to his face and he muttered lightly to himself, “they match now.” A small crescent moon graced the area above his left hoof, no fur grew there. On the right a crimson stain spread over his wound and matted the fur, blocking out the shape of what would become his newest scar. He shifted his weight and rolled over to face the wall. Reading over the signatures and small notes one more time, before falling asleep.

Author's Note:

My story has been up for 8 hours and I have one like and one dislike. While I understand they you may not care to do so, I would ask that if you dislike the story please leave a comment as to why, a nameless dislike with no reasoning stated is disheartening and unhelpful when it comes to my hopeful eventual growth as a writer.

Comments

[Visiden Visidane]

It's an interesting start so far, but the chapter ends a bit too abruptly for me. As your hook, you need to make it a bit more compelling to get the reader to wait for your next. There's not much to attach to with regards to your protagonist. His personality doesn't quite pop from the page and most of the chapter is spent of descriptions of things around him instead of about him. There needs to be a stronger reason to care for his fate.

[DashFire61]

5579130 The reason for that is half in chapter 2 and half me being unable to think of a way to really flesh him out yet, since not much happened I really couldn't have him react to much and I'm still working on what I want him to be. Thanks for the comment.

[DashFire61]

5579130 Would you care to read the updated version of my first chapter?