Death Be Not Proud

by ShinigamiDad

Legends

Reaper awoke the next morning and slowly half-opened his bloodshot eyes. He saw Luna lying a few feet away on the bed, staring back at him with her piercing, aquamarine eyes.

He stretched his arms behind his back and cracked his neck: “Good morning, Luna. I hope your ‘debriefing’ went well last night.”

She nodded: “Yes; it was revealing. Did you sleep well?”

Reaper raised an eyebrow: “You don’t know? I just assumed you were patrolling in there somewhere…”

Luna smiled lightly: “Not last night. I had my own council to keep, and I suspected you could use some ‘alone time’ as well.”

Reaper arched his back and yawned: “I guess. It’s funny: all I can remember of my dreams was being in your sister’s garden off the solarium, or in a meadow outside Ponyville, or on a beach.”

“Was there anypony else there with you?”

“No, and I wasn’t really there either.”

“How do you mean?”

“I was disembodied. I wasn’t a stallion or a man or a spirit or anything. I simply existed in whatever area the dream took me--like I was light or air.”

“Interesting. That is an unusual perspective. Perhaps I can play it back later tonight after we go to sleep.”

“Fine with me--it was just nice to have dreams that didn’t mean anything or torment me or arouse me or whatnot.”

Luna smiled slyly and nodded pointedly at the swelling pressing against Reaper’s breeches: “Are you certain of that?”

He looked down and grinned: “That? He’s just saying ‘good morning’--no deeper meaning, here.”

Luna laughed, sat up and stretched: “So, what is our plan for the day? We need to get our new clothes from Jost’n and acquire you a new mount at a minimum, yes?”

“And a sword for you, riding tack for two dalzi, a week’s-worth of provisions. By the time we’re done, we might be down to our last three kingdoms’-worth of gems!”

“Heavens! How will we ever make it?”

“It’ll be a hardship for sure. We might not be able to over-tip Regel one last time!”

Luna chuckled: “Speaking of: shall we have him bring up food, or should we break our fast in the common room?”

Reaper stood and took the chamber pot into the adjacent bathing room: “Yeah, let’s go downstairs for a bit. Take in the local color.”

Luna slid off the end of the bed and pulled clothing out of a bundle as Reaper finished his piss and turned back toward the bed.

Luna began to remove her shift, then stopped: “Is this still problematic for you?”

“No. I mean, I notice you now in a way that I didn’t when we first arrived. That’s been growing for some time, but not like yesterday--not in that maddening, blood-boiling way.”

He slid his feet into his moccasins and pulled on his cloak: “Bloody mets’il! That reminded me of how some ponies still go strongly into heat, like their ancient ancestors.”

Luna nodded as she finished removing the shift, and pulled on her patched garments, topped by a light cape gathered at her throat: “An apt comparison. How do I look?”

“You look better in just the silkies, but I guarantee that would cause a commotion if we went downstairs!”

Luna smiled and went to the door: “Then let us go now and sample the local color, as you said.”

Reaper picked his blade up off the floor, slipped it back into his belt, and left the room behind Luna, pulling the door shut behind him.

The common room was roughly a quarter full, and Luna and Reaper worked their way back toward the corner between the fireplace and window.

Luna glanced down at the table as she started to sit, then paused and furrowed her brow: “Did you carve this intentionally?”

Reaper sat down and waved for Regel: “No. I was just idly scratching with my blade--or so I thought.”

Regel approached the table, wiping this hands on an apron: “What c’n I do fer the Lady and her Knight this good morning?”

Luna smiled and greeted the servant: "Ona go'zie, Regel!"

Regel blushed and Reaper smiled as he turned toward the flustered young man: “Yes, a good morning to you! I believe we will be fine with some cider and bread, perhaps a bit of hard cheese.”

Regel bowed slightly and backed away before turning and hurrying toward the kitchen.

Luna shook her head: “Poor befuddled boy!”

“Yeah, that’s clearly one member of the fan club who’s going to miss you!”

Luna scanned the room and paused, narrowing her eyes slightly: “Is that not the one called Zain? Is he not a member of the Watch?”

Reaper looked over his shoulder and squinted through the haze: “My eyes aren’t quite as good as yours, but I think you’re right. He may have been chatting with Tal’ar last night, but they were up by the door, so I didn’t get a good look.”

“He did not come in?”

“Just inside the doorway. He was looking for our old friends Sumi and Sagu, who were here mooching off my hospitality.”

Luna’s eyebrows jumped: “Really? You met the dalzi traders again? What was their tale?”

“I don’t really know. I was a lot more interested in milking them for intelligence about the battles to the south and about our map’s accuracy.”

Regel stepped up beside Reaper and placed two mugs of cider and a serving board laden with food between his two guests.

Luna glanced up and nodded: “Eskerr on gi'zon!”

Regel smiled shyly: “You’re most welcome, m’Lady!”

Reaper handed the young servant a bit: “Go ask Zain if my companions from last night made it out of town safely.”

Regel furrowed his brow in confusion, but hurried off toward the Watchman. Reaper watched him approach and speak to Zain, who turned toward Reaper and pointedly shook his head slowly.

Reaper smiled sadly: “Well, that’s a pity. Still, I’m sure it’s not the first time they’ve seen the inside of a cell. And it takes them off the board as possible random elements.”

“How so?”

“They’re two of the only folks I can think of who travel widely and can identify us.”

“Dux’a.”

“True, and he knows we needed a map.”

“He does not strike me as the type to travel off the beaten path, however.”

Reaper took a swig of cider: “No. I suspect if he’s interested in travelling south, he’ll do it via well-established, smooth, routes.”

Luna sniffed a bit of cheese then nibbled it tentatively: “This is most pungent!”

Reaper took a chunk: “Zor’sain. Strong stuff for breakfast!”

Luna washed down the cheese with some bread and cider: “What could our unfortunate friends tell you about the map?”

“Largely what we assumed: it’s quite old, and missing a few elements. For instance, there’s an active garrison north of Bel’az called Tolki. I suspect it’s held by Gindu’s men, given Sumi and Sagu’s descriptions.”

“So what is our plan? Do we strike straight south from here?”

“No--we’ll stick to the stream-side paths heading southeast for a while, just to misdirect a bit. In fact, now I don’t want to leave early. I’d like to head out at dusk in order to make tracking more difficult.”

“That will also make finding all our last-minute provisions somewhat less ‘last-minute.’”

Reaper grinned: “True! So with that in mind, let’s wrap-up here and head to the swordsmith Dux’a recommended and get you a decent blade.”

Luna nodded and stood, attracting Regel’s attention; he hurried across the room: “Will you be needin’ anything else?”

Reaper turned: “No--please let your mistress know we will be out for the day, and to have her brother meet us at the stables later. I am in need of a new dalzi and would like to make a deal.”

“As ‘ya wish, good Sir!”

As they approached the inn’s main door Reaper noticed Zain hurriedly exiting ahead of them, closing the door moments before Regel reached his hand out for the latch.

The servant frowned and pulled the door back open with a grunt. Reaper stepped out into the cold morning air first, followed by Luna, who paused to thank Regel for holding the door.

He glanced away shyly: “Anytime, T’zesa!”

Luna joined Reaper as they stepped into the street and headed back toward the town’s main gate.

They walked for several minutes, braced against a stiff north wind, until they came to a smoky storefront, open onto the main street bearing a wrought-iron sign depicting crossed hammer and tongs.

Reaper pulled aside the heavy leather curtain covering the opening and stepped inside, with Luna trailing behind.

He squinted at the dark hazy interior, and made out the heavy shape of the blacksmith, his back to the entrance, as his hammer came down on a plow blade with a sharp clang.

Reaper took a step closer and cleared his throat loudly: “Greetings, Smith! We have come at Tal’ar’s recommendation!”

The smith stopped and put down his hammer and turned to face his visitors: “And a good day to you as well, stranger. Er’ryone here in town’s been hankerin’ to meet you two!”

Reaper put out his hand and paused for a moment as he got a good look at the man’s scarred face and neck.

The blacksmith furrowed his brow for a moment, then grinned, exposing multiple gaps: “Ah, this face. Nah, t’aint what yer thinkin’. No accident here--I’m a good smith--this is from the war. It’s why I had to get outta the field and take up the hammer.”

He pulled his heavy, scorched and stained apron aside, exposing a twisted and disfigured right leg: “Well, it’s mostly ‘cause of this leg. Too crippled to fight, not too ugly!”

Luna stepped forward to get a better look: “It is a miracle he is still alive! I would have expected swift death from the wounds on his neck alone!”

The smith’s face brightened: “This must be the famous Princess er’ryone’s been goin’ on about! M’name is Er’rem and it’ll be my greatest pleasure and honor to get you anything you need!”

Reaper nodded: “Most appreciated! As you can see, the T’zesa is tall and strong. She comes from a long line of warrior kings and queens of Zaldun, and needs a blade to match her stature. We do not have much time left in your town--perhaps you have a piece here in-progress you might finish for a bonus?”

Er’rem shrugged and turned away, shuffling toward the back of his shop: “Nah, but you c’n have this…”

He reached beneath a bench and pulled out several bundles of oil-soaked canvas. He placed the bundles atop the bench, laid the cloth aside and lifted out a gleaming longsword.

“This is mine. Finest blade in the town, I guarantee it, both as a smith and as a soldier!”

Reaper took up the sword and looked it over closely: “This is indeed a stout blade! But should you not keep it in case of trouble?”

“Nah, my arms and shoulders and back’re all wrong fer swingin’ a sword now. And I got no legwork anymore, as y’can guess! I keeps a buckler near the door, and woe to any fool who gets within ten feet of my hammer!

Reaper smiled and stepped away from the bench as Luna came in behind him, drawn to the other bundles.

As Reaper and Er’rem stood near the front of the shop by the forge, Luna pored over the contents of the oilcloth before her. She pulled out a pair of greaves and vambraces. They were crafted of light steel, finished in satin black and chased in silver.

“These are beautiful! Ask the smith their source!”

Reaper glanced back and raised an eyebrow: “Wow! Those look like relics! I’ll ask…”

He turned back to Er’rem: “What is the story surrounding the armor the T’zesa is examining? It appears to be antique.”

“Ah, that. My father crafted that in the old style fer the last great warlord of the Northern Midlands nigh on to forty years ago.”

The smith limped back toward Luna and opened the last bundle, exposing a matching set of spaulders: “His father had commissioned the work fer his son, and paid fer most of it, but they both fell in the Battle of Bel Tula ‘fore they could collect it.”

“And you’ve kept it ever since?”

“Nobody could afford to pay it off! My ‘da kept it for me, but it never really fit--stuff’s too long. And I might’ve passed it and the sword to me own son…”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “But?”

“A plague two winters ago took my boy and wife.”

Luna set aside her cloak and buckled on the vambraces: “Offer him a great price in memory of his father and lost family.”

Reaper nodded: “This gear would likely have sat here forever. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture.”

He turned back to the blacksmith: “Her Highness offers her condolences for your loss, and offers to pay the warlord’s price for this armor.”

Er’rem stepped back as Luna strapped on the greaves: “Sure seems to fit her right proper, don’t it! Hold on a minute...”

The smith shuffled behind a curtain into an adjoining storeroom as Reaper knelt and helped Luna adjust the greaves over her dragonhide boots.

Er’rem stepped out of the storeroom a moment later holding an oiled sheath, belt and matching dagger: “These go with the sword. They ain’t the fanciest leatherwork, but they’re sturdy.”

Luna finished adjusting the spaulders to her shoulders as Reaper strapped the belt and scabbard around her waist. He handed her the sword and stepped back as she slipped it into its sheath.

“By Celestia, you really do look like a warrior princess! You’d do the ancient pegasi proud!”

Luna grinned: “Should we not see to you as well?”

Reaper patted his short sword: “Nah, I’m fine. I’d like some proper boots, but other than that, and getting by the seamstress, there’s not much I need.”

Luna pulled her cloak back on and took Er’rem’s hands between hers: “Eskerr on gi'zon! This will serve well!”

Reaper smiled and set two large sapphires on the bench: “I trust that this will retire the warlord’s old family debt, and give you a proper soldier’s pension in the bargain!”

The blacksmith picked the gems up slowly and stared at them. Reaper raised an eyebrow: “Are jewels too difficult for you to barter or convert? I can give you gold if that is easier.”

“That ain’t it--ol’ Bixia will be happy to take ‘em off my hands. But I can’t take all this! This stuff ain’t worth that much!

Reaper smiled: “Think of it as a gift from a grateful noble for helping to return her to her proper glory.”

Luna nodded to Er’rem and smiled. The blacksmith smiled back and pocketed the gems: “Well, sure’n it does look glorious on her!”

Reaper shook Er’rem’s hand as they lifted the leather flap and stepped outside the shop into the street: “All our thanks, good smith!”

The blacksmith stood silently in front of his shop for a minute watching as his customers walked off toward the center of town.

---

Jost’n met Luna and Reaper as they reached the front door of her shop: “Hurry inside, honored guests! I can’t wait to show you how it turned out!”

Reaper smiled as they hustled inside the shop and closed the door against the wind: “How what turned out?”

“The T’zesa’s cloak!”

The seamstress led them toward the back of the shop where a wizened old man and a young girl waited anxiously next to a simple fabric screen.

“This is Ruzo and the girl what helps me, Lari. Ruzo brung along your kit, good Sir, so you c’n have some proper clothes for the road again.”

The old man handed over several bundles, tied off with butcher’s string, and a pair of worn, but high-quality boots, freshly resoled and oiled.

Reaper took the bundles and raised an eyebrow: “The garments I understand, but what of the boots?”

Ruzo shrugged: “My feet hurt so bad anymore I c’n hardly get ‘em on. I figger’d you’d get more use out of ‘em than I will!”

Reaper turned the dark brown boots over in his hands, examining the heavy stitching and thick soles: “Thank you! These will do nicely! But this is just the warm-up, isn’t it?”

He grinned and pointed at the screen as Luna stepped up beside him.

Jost'n pulled away the screen to reveal a long, hooded cloak crafted of thick, dark blue, well-fulled, felted wool called artil. It was lined with satiny black tazko, and trimmed with a dense, snow-white velvet known as belu, embroidered in a diamond pattern with silver thread. It closed loosely below the throat with a silver chain attached to jewel-studded clasps. There was a matching hook and clasp at the waist should the wearer need to close the cloak against the weather.

Reaper was stunned: "I recognize these fabrics, and am much impressed. But where in all of Kur did you get the trim? I have traveled extensively in the south, and have never seen belu like this!"

The old seamstress beamed: “‘Tis an inheritance of mine, going back generations. My foremothers and fathers held onto it, waitin’ for somebody worthy to wear it. It’s from the vaults of the last King of Iparres'm himself, given to trim his wedding garb.”

Reaper nodded slowly: “For a wedding that was never held. I remember the story of King Azken.”

Luna slowly ran her hands across the fabrics, and fingered the fine chain: “This is breathtaking.”

Reaper shook his head: “That’s an understatement! It belongs in a museum!”

Jost’n hurried over bearing an armload of clothes and took Luna to a side room: “Please, T’zesa--let us see you! Let us see this cloak the way the Kings saw it!”

Luna looked over her shoulder at Reaper with a bemused expression. He shrugged

Luna smiled shyly and stepped into the small room.

Reaper turned to Ruzo: “Let me see what you have for me, tailor."

The old man shook out two pair of woolen breeches and two linen blouses and handed them to Reaper: “There are also some stockings and linen underclothes, and this jacket is yours as well.”

He removed the dark grey coat he was wearing and held it while Reaper changed into his new garments and boots.

He was securing the boots and belt as he heard Jost’n gasp behind him: “By the Lost Gods!”

Reaper stood and turned around, adjusting his cloak at the same time. He froze and held his breath.

Luna stepped into view and rose to her full height while tightening the vambrace on her right forearm.

Jost’n had tailored the grey, deerskin doublet to fit the swell of Luna’s bosom, allowing the white blouse to spill out, bright against her dark skin.

The cloak had been hemmed up so it now brushed against the upper edge of Luna’s greaves. She drew it loosely across her body, covering her arms down to her wrists, allowing a bit her vambraces to show.

Luna glanced over her shoulders and extended her right leg, checking the tightness of the greave against her boot and leg: “This is marvelously made! Again, we must make sure to compensate the creator generously!”

Reaper stared for another moment, then shook his head as though stunned: “‘Compensate?’ It can’t be done! This thing belongs in a museum, if only for this ancient, priceless trim! We can’t take this from them!”

Luna raised her head and looked sternly down her nose: “We can and we will! Do you know how long the people of this town have been hungering for a sign, for a hero, for anything to break the sad sense of doom that pervades this land?”

“That’s not why we’re here, Luna! We’re here to get me killed, not play hero! It would be a lie in any event!”

“Not as far as they know! And when Yunada is slain and his force routed, it certainly will be a relief to this town!”

“Perhaps, but you won’t have had anything to do with it!”

“Unnecessary. I will live on as a symbol and a legend. Reaper, these people are starved for symbols of hope, for legends of old to rise up. I know, better than most, the power of legend and symbol and myth. This is my chance to forge a legend of hope and strength in defiance of, not in service to, fear and darkness!”

She stepped toward the front of the shop as Jost’n and her associates fell back, and drew her sword: “You say Kur is a world drained of magic, my friend--”

She pushed open the shop door and strode into the street, raising her sword high. The blade glinted in the afternoon sun, the burnished metal of her greaves and vambraces gleamed, and her eyes, wide with joy, glittered: “Then let us bring some back!”