Chapter Thirteen: Meetings
The air was silent, devoid of any sounds besides the occasional clinking of a glass. I could feel the tension building up inside me, a strange mixture of mild fear and great apprehension. I knew that Celestia felt the same, sitting across from me with a stern look upon her.
It was rather amusing, to be honest – that the ruler of a grand nation had called for my presence, sending messengers to rouse me from my sleep. Yet, I knew that Celestia wanted to speak of something of great importance – I could only wonder what it was that piqued her interest, yet I figured it had something to do with Luna’s own conversation with her the day before.
A minor assemblage of food had been laid before us, sat neatly upon the pearl-white cloth of the grand table. Bread of all sorts, more varieties than I had ever seen in my life and death, seemed to take the front stage, supported by bouquets of fruits and vegetables. They would do nothing for me, to be honest, unless prepared in the correct manner within the throes of alchemy, but I felt I could amuse Celestia.
Thus, I grasped a particular bud of greens, placing them quietly into my mouth. It was unwise to hope, but I still did – yet I felt no reinvigoration of my body, no rush of energy through my veins. It was no valuable green blossom, having not been prepared correctly, and the food bore no taste to my tongue.
Across from me, Celestia’s eyes were brooding, gauging. They wandered over my own, careful judgement and cautious evaluation within those lavender circles. Her eyes were rather attractive, truth be told, and I found myself gazing back into those orbs, countless decades and centuries hidden behind a kind veil.
Some Undead might have lived for centuries, yet most would hollow long before then, hundreds of years of experience gone to pitiful waste. I only wondered what mine own eyes told about myself – what Celestia saw in them, on her part.
Celestia’s voice brought me out of my reverie, a musical tone upon the air.
“It is very nice to finally speak to you,” she spoke, her tone strong and stern, yet not unkind. “I am told your name is Roland of Astora. You might already know who I am.”
I nodded, trying my best to appear respectful and diligent. “Likewise, your Majesty,” I replied, bowing my head ever so slightly. “Princess Luna has told me good deal about you. I have great respect for a ruler of such a great nation.”
Flattery. What a sham, to be honest. I had never had much experience in speaking with nobles and aristocrats – I was, more often, the one tearing their rotted kingdoms apart and burning their homely palaces to ashes. Best not say that to Celestia, of course.
The Princess smirked in odd amusement, and I returned her sideways grin – it seemed that Celestia shared my sentiment on the blithering sycophancy of the grandees. “Yes, my sister… she has much to learn, but I love her very much.”
I knew the intent behind her words – she wanted me to react, to see under the light my actions and reactions to those that I might bear close. “And I know she returns your love, Princess. But, I’m sure you wanted to speak with me on matters besides such familial relations?”
Celestia nodded. “Yes, you are correct in your assumption.” She took a deep breath. “Ser Roland, my sister has taken a great liking to you. I do not know why, so I wish to get to know you myself.”
“Then ask away,” I averted my eyes, my attention split between a flaky tart and Celestia’s voice. “I’m sure you have many questions.”
“Indeed.”
She took a second to sip upon a cup of tea, before clearing her throat. “Ser Roland, why have you taken such an interest in my sister?”
The question was simple, but stopped me outright. Why, indeed, had I clutched onto Luna with such affection? The answer that might have slipped off my tongue was her tendency to visit me in the night, and our mutual interest in stories and tales. In turn, I had visited her more than a few times, in the dead of night, when some might have simply slept, and rested their tired bones that, doubtless, I shared.
Yet, on second thought, that might have not been the truest case. Indeed, I had the smallest of inklings that, perhaps, Luna was not as interested in the stories themselves, but their relation to myself, and who I might have been. Perhaps, instead, we had both clutched on to the other, because of some kinship of spirit.
Maybe we had been hasty, in that regard. One, a lonesome goddess, unsteady upon her hooves in a world that resembled her own, yet unlike it altogether. The other, a quickly hollowing shade that would have latched onto anything to keep his treasured humanity.
Yes, that was it. Doubt clawed at my insides, but I returned my attention to Celestia. She was waiting.
“I... I am not entirely sure, to be honest. I feel a sense of kinship with Princess Luna, your Majesty,” I answered, and Celestia rose a brow. “We are alike, you see, in more ways than our simple love of tales.”
“And are there others that you see in the same regard? Other… kindred spirits?” Celestia asked, tilting her head.
I shook my head in response, slowly and deliberately. “No, I’m afraid. There is one other… perhaps two, that I might consider a friend in Equestria, but I do not feel with them as I do Luna.” I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. “I haven’t had a true friend in a long time, Princess… those I have left behind were nothing more than beasts by the time I had left them.”
I did not tell Celestia that I was one of those beasts - monstrosities in our own form and figure. Yet, she still bore a sense of curiosity and mild horror about her.
“Do… you think that you’ll turn into a beast as well?”
A poignant question, indeed. I sat and thought about it, for more than a few moments. “Should I lose faith in myself, then I will, most undoubtedly, hollow. I will lose my mind, and my humanity. But I think Luna’s friendship may be enough. For a long while.”
Celestia leaned forwards, her eyes dark and attentive. “And, Ser Roland, what will you do if you do… hollow, as you call it? How can I trust you to not raise your sword against my sister?”
“I will feel the slow creep of insanity. Without a doubt. And, should I feel that I am losing the will to live, well… I’ve a plan for that. And I have many things to do.”
“And what, pray tell, are those things?” The princess asked, inquisitive and, unfortunately, more than a mite suspicious.
I chuckled darkly, feeling regret and frustration. My plans would harm more than myself, and I greatly lamented that quality. “Oh, nothing much. A contingency here, proposition there… best not worry about it too much, Princess.”
“Oh, and please don’t call me Ser. Never was a knight. Never will be.”
If I were to fully engage myself in Equestria – arguably my new home – then there were certain plans, certain “contingencies,” as I had told Princess Celestia, that I would need to put into effect. The threat of hollows was too great, especially those that would retain their skills and trades crafted in life, and I feared what would become of this new land should a hollow stalk amongst its people.
Silver Steelhooves was the first on my list and, most probably, the one who would have the most influence staging this plan of mine. Luna would refuse outright, I knew – she would not let me do what I must, and so I would need to keep my close friend unaware, caught within the fog of war.
The Palace Guard barracks was a modestly sized garrison, located some paces away from the palace itself. While the Canterlot Guard, the rank-and-file of Canterlot’s militia-like constabulary, was quartered deep within the city itself, the elites that patrolled the princess’ domain found themselves with the fortune of being stationed in the heart of the Sun District.
As I approached the barracks, some of the guards gave me slight nods, or the odd salute. They were amongst the few who knew who I was – many had seen me roving the palace’s halls, and all had been briefed of my existence by their captain. One called out to me – I knew him moderately well.
“Roland!” he cried out, smiling at my arrival. He was stood outside the barracks, presumably on guard. “It’s good to see you, lad. How’ve you been?” His accent was not unlike those of Jugo, a land that had once been tainted by the foul stench of the Abyss.
I returned the guard’s smile, holding out a gloved hand to grasp his hoof. “I’ve been well, Grizzly Days. Your old knees holding up?”
Grizzly Days was a rather old stallion, yet one would not know it from the way he moved about. From what little conversation I had held with him, I knew that he had been a guard for many years – four decades, in fact. The young of the guard looked up to the old, grizzled warhorse, and though many a brash, rosy-cheeked guard recruit would challenge him to a bout, he swore none would best him until his back broke in half. Grizzly had told me that he would retire, should a youngster get the better of him.
Well, he hadn’t retired yet.
“They are, they are,” Grizzly grunted as he grasped my hand, shaking it firmly. Muscles rippled under his greying coat as he stretched. “Now, what are you here for, lad?”
“I’m looking for Captain Steelhooves, Grizzly,” I asked him, taking a step back. “Perhaps, you might be ken as to where I can find him?”
The old stallion nodded his head, pointing into the barracks. “Aye, you can find him in the barracks. He’s got an office, past the mess hall.” I nodded in thanks, making to leave. “You’d best find him soon, Roland. The colts are all looking to take a sojourn at some tavern in the city.”
“Thank you, Grizzly. Make a good eve, for yourself.”
“And you, lad.”
I left Grizzly at his station, ducking through the, unfortunately low, doors of the barracks. I made my way through the halls, eventually finding myself before the doors of an office. A plaque, of oak and gold, sat above the door, detailing the words Captain of the Guard.” Satisfied at having found the right place, I knocked thrice upon the wood of the door.
A voice called from within, familiar and recognizable. “I’m here. Come in.”
I opened the door, walking into the office. Almost immediately, I was greeted by the scent of oranges and citrus, wafting from within. Rows of cabinets and drawers were arrayed down the sides of the room, and in the center, behind an oaken desk of accented gold, sat a white-coated stallion, his mane a cool silver.
“Oh,” Silver Steelhooves said, leaning back in his chair. He bore about him a certain sense of shock and apprehension. “I… did not expect to find you here, Roland.”
“I didn’t think you would, in all honesty,” I responded. Taking a few sniffs, I looked around the room. “It smells of citrus in here. Have you a liking for it?”
Captain Steelhooves did not respond for a few moments, looking more than a bit contemplative. “Well, not me. It’s alright. The smell is… more, in fact, to remember my sister.” He chuckled, a tone of sorrow in each breath of his. “I do miss her.”
I clutched a hand at my chest, looking down. “I understand. My thoughts are with her spirit.”
Raising a brow, Steelhooves gave a short laugh. “Oh, I think you misunderstand. She’s… not dead. I just haven’t seen her in a long time… uncomfortably long,” he explained, and I felt a tinge of embarrassment. “She and I had a… bit of a row, you see, and I…” He looked away. “Well, I would like to talk to her again, some time.”
We stood in silence, neither man nor stallion knowing what to say in those precious seconds. It was, as some ponies here would call it, “awkward.” A word that I felt I was feeling far too often in Equestria.
I eventually broke the silence, hoping to herald my request, my offer, with some manner of small-talk. “So, Captain. How goes the watch?”
Visibly relieved, Steelhooves leaned forwards. “Quiet day so far, I suppose. Well, quiet week, rather. No crimes to report, no cases on hoof for the investigative branch.” Looking away, the guard captain grabbed hold of a quill upon his desk, playing with it in his hoof. “So, I decided to give the boys some rest – some leave. I think they’re getting ready to head on to some bar, down in the Jewel District, and cool off their heads.” Dropping the quill in its bottle of ink, Steelhooves leaned back and looked up into the ceiling. “Celestia knows they need it.”
I, in all honesty, hadn’t had much experience with alcohol. Perhaps, in an age faraway and long ago, I had tasted the violet tinge of wine, or the honeyed nectar of ale or mead, but Undead had no use for such drink, and even lesser want for it. I had heard of, mayhaps, a certain Undead whom had formulated some manner of drink for the Undead, brewed from the very fire that gave us life in troubled times, but I had never known it in person, and only counted it as a tale for the hopeful.
In truth, the Wolf’s Blood had been the only source of intoxication for my brothers and I – and we had only drank from it once.
I returned my attention to the conversation at hand, hoping to voice my concerns. “I do not understand the stratagem behind allowing guards to drink during such times,” I said, shrugging simply. “Perhaps during leave, I suppose, but I do not see the sensibility in it.”
“Oh, cut them some slack,” Silver Steelhooves responded in turn, waving a hoof in partial dismissal. “They work their flanks off every day, working hour by hour. They deserve a break, once in a while.”
Narrowing my eyes, I leaned forwards and placed my hands on the desk. I foresaw it to be a gesture of some grave solemnity, but due to the unfortunately short stature of the desk, I was required to crouch. It removed all sense of gravity to the situation.
“And, I suppose, you wouldn’t see the sense in taking a rest yourself, Captain?” I asked the somewhat-shocked stallion. “You say your men work without pause, without rest, and deserve a leave, yet you do not see the same in yourself?”’
Steelhooves looked uncomfortable, visibly unable to answer my question. Leaning back, he shrugged. “Equestria is under constant threat nowadays, Roland. Both the Guard Corps and the Royal Military make sure the nation stays safe.” His words avoided my demands, but I decided to let it go. I still needed to speak about my request, after all. “They are more competent than many would have you believe, Roland, but the guards need their rest, and I need to stay vigilant.”
Truthfully, I disagreed with his words, yet did not pursue the matter. “Very well, then. So be it, Captain.”
“Now,” I spoke again, making to turn around. “I need to speak with you about something very private, Captain.” Approaching the door, I turned its lock, taking a moment to make sure of its security. Refocusing my attention on the guard captain, I noticed that he had taken an expression of great shock, and thinly veiled fear.
“Oh, I… um,” Silver Steelhooves stuttered, and I raised my hands in a placating manner.
“Peace, Captain Steelhooves. I’ve only a request of you. Do you trust me?”
He was silent for a moment, visibly loathe to respond, before finally shaking his head. “Frankly? No, I don’t. Not really.”
“Good. Then this shall be all the easier.”
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First Comment!!!
Love the story, Love the Abyss watchers!
7773595 Second.
He's definitely about to ask the captain to kill him should he hollow, am I right?
That ending though. I'm so damned hype for the next chapter already!!!
Anyone wanna bet the moment Roland leaves, this proposal will find its way to Luna posthaste?
I figure anypony with a brain in their head would inform the princess as soon as possible.
Then again, maybe Roland will convince him otherwise, but we'll see.
Next chapter should be an amusing read.
I've seen this mistake far too many times in this story. Silver Steelhooves is a pony. His grammar should have hooves, not hands. It should go like this: "Quiet day so far, I suppose. Well, quiet week, rather. No crimes to report, no cases on hoof for the investigative branch.
This story takes place in Equestria. The ponies never use hand in their daily grammar as far as I know. Make sure to take heed of this fact in future chapters.
7776398 Simple mistake. It happens, especially when a story is written primarily from the point of view of a human.
Fixed.
7776403 I understand. I would enjoy being your editor if you so wish for one. I edit my own work, and rarely do I ever leave mistakes. I have a keen eye for finding errors in writing. I also practically taught myself how to write. I never took writing classes. I only learned through studying English and reading stories. It's a special knack I have, learning through watching, or in this case, reading. (I don't mean to come across as bragging, if that's how you see it.)
7776435 I'll think about. I've already got an editor, but it's always good to have more.
I might keep in contact.
7778493 There's a lot of bodies in that boss room, dead and alive. Take your pick.
I have been waiting so long for ANYONE ON ANY SITE to make a fan-fiction with the Abyss Watchers!