Thestrals have always been protected by Princess Luna. But now, she's gone and the only they ever felt safe as turned dangerous. Families broken apart. Foals left to fend for themselves as their thestral parents die around them. But, why?
It was horrible, this day. Novus was sure.
First, her mother lies bedbound and ill, worse than ever. Then, one of her pillars of protection falls with the banishment of Princess Luna.
And now? Now thestrals are being rounded up and separated from every other pony. What is she supposed to do?
She had started her day like any other. Waking up, prepare a slice of bread for the morning meal, grab the market basket, and the pouch of bits, and take up her travel cloak for to walk into the market central of Semper.
Semper was often considered the centre of Equestria. Mayhap because all maps started here, or because the Sisters made home in the castle overlooking the whole settlement. She didn’t know.
But it wasn’t the walk, nor the trading within the market, for t’was Spring Harvest, and many foods stuff did she get with such limited bits. No, it was at home Novus cursed this day.
For her mother, bound to bed, had grown worse. She was the reason young Novus was out in the market, gathering food for a soup to heal her.
Her mother was a fair thestral, lavender in colour with a light pink curtain of mane and tail. Her eyes had dulled, due to sickness, but Novus remembered a young time in which her mother’s eyes shone like Mistress Moon’s stars.
Her skin had turned pale, and she had garnered a temperature to match summer. Her eyes lay unfocused as she stared at the roof before her, yet it seemed to gaze much farther than the roof. A heavy sweat lay her drenched in her bed, the hay and linens soaking it up and leaving a permanent stench in the room. What more, her mother had yet to bathe for a good while.
By her mother’s side sat her father, a unicorn stallion, still quite spry for his age, yet heavily sombre, considering her mother's condition. His coat, while matted and covered in dust, was yet a magnificent butter yellow, with hair upon his own as a fiery orange sitting down, flat. His eyes held a saddened look, yet the deep magenta in them would often be called to match his daughter, or the Lady Sun herself.
She was a young unicorn herself. Sharing her mother’s coat, but her father’s eyes, while her mane and tail seemed entirely her own. Navy in colour with two stripes of pink and purple. She shared in some of her mother’s thestral traits. Like her really good hearing.
She had yet to gain her Destiny Mark, but fathers showed itself as an anvil, and a hammer striking at it, with half of Magic’s Spark atop the anvil. Her mother, however, had on her a woven basket with an opened lid, as if in a crescent moon.
But Novus had hoped that this spring, would her mother recover, but that hope seemed to run dry.
When her father had noticed her arrival, He had started to speak in a slow tone. The sound of his voice, hoarse and telling of the depression upon his soul. “Novus. How art thou this morn? T’was no trouble?”
“Good eve, father,” Novus responded, taking seat at the bed’s foot. “Nay, no trouble upon Semper town, this day. How fares mother?”
“Tis naught good. A stallion of apothecary hast cometh by. Says he, tis immedicable. She hast naught but a day,” he answered. Her father then ushered her outwards, calling out one last thing towards her. “Avaunt. Prepare the pot. Tis fitting for one last meal.”
With no hesitance, but much sorrow, Novus turned towards the metal pot that sat upon the cooking fire. She grabbed at a large vase, one that held their days’ worth of well water, and poured in some of its contents, to fill the small cooking pot. She then took up the basket of market greens and sat on the hay-covered floor, cutting up the plants and herbs with a seax held aloft by her magenta magic.
As she sat, cutting up the ingredients for her mother’s last meal, her thoughts roamed around that very mare, and her heritage. T’was not uncommon to happen upon a thestral in Equestria, far from it. but t’was that they were ever either travelling, or lived here, in Libria Semper. Or so says her mother.
“We live here, daughter. Under Princess Luna, the Mistress Moon’s, protection. She shalt be our shepherd, here to rule evermore.” She remembered her mother saying. And, while young, Novus was confident in her intelligence. She had thought that the reason they all needed protection was-
Something, a shout carried all the way from the Sisters’ castle, broke her thoughts. But the tone was different. For, when the Royal Voice was used, it was announcement. This was proclamation.
What’s more, the room had darkened, only light being from the cooking flame. Looking out the window, Novus saw a scene that matched the royal proclamation. For night had come early and the words rang through her head as she rushed through outside.
“This night shalt last, forevermore!”
And then, the castle upon the hill, overlooking the town like a stalwart protector, blew up.
Screams rattled Semper streets and faint shouts of the ongoing sisterly battle carried upon the wind. Soon, Novus’ father ran up to her daughter from inside, panic clear upon his face.
“Novus! What hast happened!” he cried out from behind.
Novus, eyes never leaving the castle, shrank a little as she spoke up in stutters. “T-the Moon! Methinks she is angry!”
Her father moved up to protect and usher her inside. But before either could clear the doorframe, a great hum shook the air, and an even greater light lit drew their gaze back upon the castle.
A rainbow shot the sky, and a loud scream tore the night. Worse than any ever heard. Novus thought she could hear her mother weep from the cry of anguish unleashed upon the world.
After the light dissipated, utter silence permeated Libria Semper. Not a living soul dared make a sound, in fear of the wrath of Lady Sun and Mistress Moon. The whistling wind appeared absent from the sky, too.
A low glow upon the moon grabbed at the attention of every pony, griffon, deer, dragon, and other. Stuck there, on the very celestial body she swore to govern was the very mare of the night, trapped in the moon. A mare in the moon
Novus looked on in fear of the fate of her mother’s guardian. Her father quickly pushed her past the door frame and closed the thatch-woven door before he moved to embrace her and spoke to her in a reassuring, quiet manner. “We shan’t worry anent that. Not this day.”
Grabbing a wood-carved bowl in his magic, her father moved over to the pot of brew in the making. He dipped the bowl within the liquid, drawing a helping from the warm broth, and gave it off to Novus to take within her own magic. “Avaunt, mine dear daughter. Deliver this to thy mother. I shalt wander abroad to Semper. Mayhap others must know of the Sister’s plight.”
“Aye, father,” Novus said as she took the bowl in her magic to take to her bedridden mother.
She heard the door open and close as she walked up to her mother, still lying upon the ground eyes now closed. She walked up to her mother’s side and place the bowl by her head before laying beside her. This close, she could see the slight shivers of her mother. She would not last the day.
“Mother. Thou must drink. T’will be thy last, methinks.” Novus moved the bowl towards her mother’s lips, yet she didn’t move herself.
“Tis true, then? Princess Luna hast fallen?”
The sound of her mother’s voice was a surprise to the young mare yet brought a new wave of depression. Because she knew that the answer to her question would not be one her mother would want to die with.
But she wouldn’t leave her mother, on an unanswered question. “Aye,” she said, “tis true. She be with her moon, now.” Novus paused for a good while, thinking her incoming question with strong thought, before she spoke again. “Art we safe?”
Her mother was thrown into a coughing fit, lasting a few seconds, another sign of her limited time. After it passed, she opened her eyes and stared her daughter in the eyes. Although her gaze was weak, her eyes were resolute.
“Hast thou princess truly fallen to Death?” asked her mother, voice weak but firm. And, while Novus herself did not know the answer, she couldn’t help but shake her head, no. Her mother nodded her own head weakly before continuing her piece. “Then she shan’t leave thy self. Mayhap shalt she be saved.”
Finished speaking, her mother leaned her head as far forward to the bowl, still held aloft by Novus’ magic, and slowly sipped at the warm contents. By the time the wooden bowl was empty, Novus had wished her mother a goodbye, quelled the cooking fire, and covered the small pot with a small lid, and started for the outside.
Upon stepping back upon fresh grass, Novus noticed something she didn’t while inside, despite their window-less window frames. The moon was gone. And with it, the princess. But, how? Was it not Princess Luna in charge of the moon? Who stole it from her?
No. Like father had said, she could worry on the morrow. First, she had to find him.
There was something different about walking through the town of Libria Semper. There was an uneasiness about the settlement. Everypony outside looked sad and forlorn, particularly the thestrals around her. Yet they all were heading towards the castle wall.
Following the crowd, Novus found herself at a place she never thought she would ever get to. The castle gates.
After spending some good time searching the crowd for her father, Novus found herself, and others around her, stopping as a pony upon the gates started to speak.
“Hear ye, hear ye! By order of Lady Sun, Princess Celestia herself…”
In that moment, Novus understood the one reason thestrals like her mother were protected. Why she herself needed Mistress Moon. The looks of some of the guards as the pony atop spoke. They were telling enough.
“Hear ye, hear ye! By order of Lady Sun, Princess Celestia herself, all Born of Night shouldst be searched and separated by morn of next, lest they shalt bring about harm to thy friends and or family!
“‘Tis with but a heavy heart I must say, the Princess of the Night hast been banished, for treason! We wouldst hath never thought this day wouldst cometh. And, of honor of thy fallen princess, a statue shalt be erected in thou market! Carved of moonstone and sliver!
“Hie! For thou have yet the eve before the morrow!”
Novus, along with those beside her, stood, frozen in the true shock of the spokestallion. While others started their move to their own homes, it took her father’s presence to shake Novus free.
“Art thou well, daughter?” he asked. Novus turned to him, his own purple eyes showing of shock and concern, not just toward the princesses.
“‘Tis true? What says he?” Novus asked, hoping against hope that her father would not leave her. Especially with her mother as she is.
“I do not know.” With that, he started down the path and up to their own home, Novus following behind.
She noticed a heavy melancholy about the town. Ponies of all kinds, mainly of thestrals and pegasi, walked in sadness and deeper despair. For many, their princess, one whom promised protection for all under her night, had just been banished, possibly never to be seen again.
She could not that she felt the same way. Her mother had spoken of great things in regards of Mistress Moon. Often speaking as if she knew her as a friend. And now, friend or not, their guardian was gone.
There was something else about the town. Some guards were knocking on doorframes or speaking to ponies outside market stalls and abodes. One family held two thestrals, one a stallion and another was yet just a filly, with a single earth pony mare. The mare was being led away from the home, while father and daughter were held back by another guard, stopping them from chasing after her.
T’was true, then.
Coming up to the door of their home, the two quickly gathered inside, hoping to spend as much time they could before any of the guard showed up. Novus set about her and her father’s own late meal while he left over to check her mother.
Picking out another two wooden bowls with her magic, Novus lifted the lid to the broth, letting a billow of steam rise from the still-heated water. She scooped out two helpings worth of bowls and set to cool as she kicked in dirt, smothering the flame under the pot. After setting the lid back atop the pot to set aside, her father had appeared beside her and wrapped his hooves around her in a sidelong embrace.
The two sat, watching the empty fire pit, waiting upon their meals to cool. All the house was quiet, beside her mother’s quiet heaving, not even the birds sang their songs. Yet, even if she did enjoy a peaceful eve, this was one day she wished upon something to distract her.
Happy with the state of the broth, her father brought the bowl up to his lips to drink, Novus following suit, also happy, but for a different reason.
While still quite hot, the flavours of the added vegetables and herbs struck her tastebuds. While it was like many others she made, the flavours brought a little more life to her. But it would not last.
A series of strikes upon their doorframe broke them from their meal, where they both turned towards the sound and placed down their bowls. After the next few strikes rang, her father stood to make his way over, yet trepidation defined his trot.
As he opened the door, Novus could make out two guards standing there, under the frame. While she knew her father worked the forge and had some personal training herself, and he crafted a majority of the guards' magical armor and weapons, recent events told her they were not here for the smithy. But she could still hope.
“Good eve, sir,” one of the guards greeted. Her father simply nodded in response, stepping aside to allow the two iron-clad guards into the home.
“What brings thy presence to mine smith? I hath naught a call for stock in recent. In other, wouldst thou accept broth for thy stay?” he asked as the two made it inside and looked over their home.
“Nay. We hath no time to linger.” The lead guard then looked towards Novus, who then grew nervous the more she was observed. “‘Tis yours, nay? Born of blood?”
Briefly looking back to her, Novus’ father hesitated before he answered of all honesty. “Aye. She be mine daughter. But hath mercy on us, for she is but a filly! And mine wife lies sick! We fear she hast naught the winter.” He ended, pleading upon his knees.
The guard turned his head to him, his face stone cold and emotionless. But what he spoke had the lingering trace of sympathy. “Whilst we may be lenient, ‘tis but the princesses orders. And we must obey. For ye saw her wrath, didst thou not?”
He turned to the doorway, not moving but silently grieving their misfortune. “Thou best cometh peacefully. We wouldst not cause ye harm.”
Once more did daughter and father look at each other, this time holding their gaze. Novus could see the look of worry on her father's face as her own pleaded against him.
He turned away, leaving his head to hang down as he focused on the floor. When he looked back up, it was resolute. “Didst thou wish upon me to pack?”
“Nay. We hath supplied all thine needs, and all, to pure up north. Hie, for ye art yet the last.” After all was said and done, the guard started walking out through the door. Looking back at her one last time, her father left the house, for what might be the last time.
While the second guard had not said a thing the entire, Novus saw a strange look in his eyes as he stared at her. Something halfway between contempt and fear. But he left before anything more could be done.
Something really was not right. If only she could find out.
And then came the coughing.
They were horrible, like grinding gravel against flint. The wild coughs were short and were sometimes accompanied by wheezing. Worst of all, they could only come from one other pony.
Picking up her father’s abandoned bowl in a magic field, she rushed up to cornered off space they had used for bedding and kneeled down beside her mother. When she had finished coughing, Novus held the bowl closer to her mouth and began to speak.
“Mother, thou shouldst hath this broth. T’will heal thy throat,” she urged, but her mother didn’t move. “Mother?” She shook her slightly, “Mother!”
At this point, Novus would have assumed the worst, but the one thing keeping from that was the fact her chest was still moving. Maybe she was just asleep. But just then, her eyes slowly opened.
“Novus…” Her voice, weak, and her breaths came in labored. Yet she still held a bit of fire in her eyes. She was always a fighter, it seemed. “Novus… what hast happened…”
Once again, Novus found herself hesitating. She did not want to tell her about Lady Sun’s official order against all, of thestral blood. But she couldn’t lie, nor could she ignore her mother. She decided the next words she spoke would be honest ones.
“Lady Sun hast ordered on a separation ‘tween thestral and pony. And Mistress Moon hast indeed been banished. Father. They hath taking him up North Semper,” she said, as a look of sad, forlornness took over her face.
“Art thou… art thou not unicorn, thyself?” her mother asked, that small fire still dancing in her eyes.
“Aye, mother. But t’wouldst seem they hath left all whom hast shared in thestral blood. Mother, what shalt we do?”
“‘Tis… ‘tis not what we shalt do… but what thou can… what thou can do.” Her mother spoke, seeming to get weaker and weaker as she kept going.
She then took notice of the floating bowl in front of her, in her daughter’s magenta glow, and weakly pushed it to the side. She closed her eyes, letting out a heavy breath before they opened again. Novus stared back. “For the morn, on the morrow… Good night…” And with that, her mother fell to slumber.
The sun had yet to go down, so Novus took it upon herself to take the broth her mother refused to drink and return it to the pot. She then grabbed her own bowl and sat in the longest silence she ever did have. Not that it was welcomed.
The flavours of the broth still help to light some of her mood, yet it was long before the bowl had lost its contents. By then, the sun had just started setting, and darkness lit the sky.
Looking out the window, Novus saw the sight that had caused so much misery in just one day. Yet who was to blame? Princess Luna, for her treason? Princess Celestia, for the banishment, and this new law? Or herself, for not standing up and trying to stop her father’s departure, even if it was inevitable?
Standing up, she took the two empty bowls over to a table, before she took off her cloak, setting it up and next to the door. By the time all the moon, and her stars, were visible, Novus and settled in her bed, some ways off from mother’s.
Closing her eyes, she had hoped she would wake to a better day.
It was up on a far hill that she watched her chariot leave.
While, yes, the castle was quite a way away from the new grave – and the Lady’s chariot was quite small – she could see the glittering sparkle as gold reflected her sun, currently held above the town.
Novus looked on as the pegasus-drawn chariot flew over toward that new city built and situated on the Horn. What was it called again? Camelot? Something along those lines.
She had not the faintest reason why Princess Celestia would leave her own castle. Especially because of how damaged it looked from the battle between her and Mistress Moon. But she was not really one to need to know what the princess was doing.
Turning away from the chariot, and her musings, Novus looked upon the mound that was now before her, and the small plate of stone beside her.
When she first woke in the morning, the last thing she expected was her mother passing in the night. But, through some miracle, she found herself not thrown into depression right away, but instead, resolutely started preparing her mother’s funeral.
That didn’t mean she was not sad about the passing. But she felt she had to be strong if she were to live out on the smithy alone.
The next step was to bury her mother in the respectful manner she was told about. Unfortunately, she had no shovel and the only one she could find was an old, rusted head of a spade in the
The next step was to bury her mother in the respectful manner she was told about. Unfortunately, she had no shovel and the only one she could find was an old, rusted head of a spade in the smithy shop, itself. She wasn’t really a very good stonemason, either.
So, taking the shovelhead, a small chisel, and her mother, Novus walked all the way up to a hill full of happy memories. She laid the body down beside her, while she set to work digging a grave for her.
It was after the burial that Novus started looking for a decent-sized rock to chisel her mother’s name, and the moon, into. And it was after she returned with a good number of stones to line the grave that she had noticed Lady Sun’s golden chariot taking flight.
So, turning back to the mound of dirt, Novus started by lining it with what stones she found, then dragged the rock, for the headstone, to start curving her mother’s name.
‘Wicker Moon’, it read. Next, was hard. A farewell to her departing soul.
She had wished to have said goodbye to her face to face, but that time would have never come, as it seemed.
A single tear bled from her eye as she looked upon the encircled mound of dirt. It ended up being a long while before Novus found her voice.
“Mother,” she said, wiping away at the stray drops of salty water that leaked from her eyes. “I am sorry. I am sure we shan't be joyous upon thine departure. And I wish upon thou a peaceful rest.
“Libria Semper grows with unrest. Tis obvious. Nopony is happy, it seems.”
Looking back upon the town, Novus noticed the beginnings of something being built across its middle, starting from the town’s surrounding wall’s edge. There also appeared to be a sizable crowd outside a tent. Mayhap, it was worth looking into.
She turned back to the grave once more, preparing the last of her talk. “I ask that thee canst grant upon mine soul the Moon’s favour. Good night.”
Novus turned from her mother, ready to start for home to grab her traveling cloak. She didn’t make the trip to the door without noticing a lone guard walking up the path to the house. She didn’t know if the guard saw her yet, but it was not polite to leave one waiting.
Quickening her pace, Novus went to meet the guard just as they made it to the door of her home. When the guard looked in her direction, she took note of his cold expression, giving no show to any emotion whatsoever. He was an older-looking earth pony, equipped with some worn-down looking armour, covering only his chest and legs, and a battered-up spear, held in place on the side of his body plating.
He was not focused on her himself, instead, he was glancing around the house’s exterior, seeming like he was looking for somepony else. During his period of scrutiny, the two were locked in silence, not one thinking of even breaking it, with the whistle of the wind and the soft clanking of armour being the only sound for some good time. After a while, though, the guard eventually turned his attention to face Novus herself, finally speaking up and breaking the silence. “Where be thine lord of residence?”
“West of Semper,” Novus answered, looking north and in the direction she spoke of.
“And thine dame mother?” he pressed, looking down upon younger mare with slightly narrowed eyes.
With a look behind her, and in the direction she had come from, Novus’ ears splayed to the back of her head. “Elysium,” she replied simply. She then turned her head back and continued before the guard could ask or speak. “She hast passed within the night. And I was not to leave mine mother for the rats.”
The guard let off a soft snort of air and looked her dead in the eye. Then, he spoke. “Tis then thou own I must deliver mine words to.” He paused briefly to gather his words. “Thou must gather thine own, and eke any tainted upon thine land and, cometh morrow, gather by the post tent. ‘Til then, shalt ye accept, works of metalwork hast cometh in. As thou art the only smith of thine side, Semper, more shalt cometh by.”
Novus turned to the blacksmith’s workshop, protruding from the side of her house, considering the offer. Honestly, her father’s work was what had kept them fed, along with her mother’s weaving arts. Now, with both her parents gone, she could only do her best to keep living. And, while she had been briefly taught in both areas, Novus found more of a calling to working her father’s trade, rather than the few times mother decide to sell anything she made.
‘It is yet just art, naught of profit,’ she would often say.
Turning back towards the earth pony guard after a few seconds, Novus nodded, once, confirming her own assent to his offer. The pale-yellow guard nodded once of his own before unlatching his chest piece and boots, letting the former fall with a thud, while drawing his hooves from the latter.
“Thou art to begin by repairin’ mine armour. Tis to be done by the morn of next week,” he said, taking his spear from his armours side sheath, holding it up close and against his breast.
The guard, done with his business, started turning away before Novus could speak. But that didn’t stop her from calling after him. “Next week’s morn? Surely, thou jest. Thy armour shalt take ‘til winter’s first snow. Tis too damaged.”
Glancing behind his shoulder with a glare, the guard spoke in a cold voice “Nay. Tis too late of a time.” He then turned his whole body around, voice growing colder with warning. “Hold thy tongue damsel. Tis naught a time for to be actin’ up. Least ye join thine own kind out west.”
Novus furrowed her brows as a frown marred her features. But she did not say anything more, instead settling on watching as the guard turned and descended from her home front.
Looking down upon the heap of armour on the ground, she considered it for a while, before picking each piece in her magic and started for the blacksmith beside her home. She had a lot to do
The town of Liberia Semper, never truly converting into a city – despite the castle overlooking the whole, and nobles near demanding of it – yet staying within a decent population, was best known for its inhabitants, consisting of a percentage of thestral ponies.
However, Semper was not the only place they could be found, if one were looking. Yet it was the only town one would ever be comfortable settling in. With the newer nobles, those of the city upon the Canterhorn, associating the nocturnal ponies with predatory beasts like that of the forest around Semper, it has led many to distrust and shun them, which, in turn, left many a thestral to the life of a nomad.
Within the town itself, however, there was yet a league of ponies who fell for the sway to the nobleponies. That goes without saying; there were those few who felt uneasy at the sight of the predatory features a thestral held. Some, mostly newcomers to the town, with others staying in residence in the Sisters’ castle. But, under the protection of the Night, herself, not one had chose to act on those fears.
Overall, the town had held a strong sense of harmony, with the Sisters keeping that peace since its founding. Libria Semper was happy for a long time.
But now the strongest form of harmony had broken. The wall of carved-sharp logs, currently running the span of the middle of the humble town, was telling enough of the divide.
It would also appear as if others, of and behind the blockade, shared Novus’ confusion in what had popped up overnight. Why would Princess Celestia physically separate the town like this?
The wall was not the only new addition to the centre of Semper, Novus observed.
Looking downwards from the sharpened logs, she saw – from where the town’s surrounding stone wall connected with the logs, all the way to where she currently stood – a continuous line of stone brick being laid by a stonemason, with an additional pony supplying him with lime mortar and a line of armed guards running its length.
The other change was a set-up tent on their side of the wall of spikes, with a line of ponies had stretched from its bowls. What this new placement was for, she hadn’t a clue. But maybe it was the reason why guard called her down.
After her inspection of the changed town, Novus noticed as a pegasus stallion slowly started walking out of the large tent. He was coloured as sand, with a faded blue mane. He had, hung around his neck, a diamond-shaped pendant with some sort, either painted or carved, placed within its middle. It was too far to see.
A pony standing by the tent’s flaps grabbed her attention as she was ushered towards the line-up of others, into the tent. Having no idea what it might be for, she took the line's tail.
For a very long time, Novus stood, only ever moving at a slow pace. It had been a good while before she found herself inside the large tent. It seemed a little hastily put together, with barrels and crates littering the ground in piles, while a table was set up with a pony behind, a pile of scrolls in front, and a crate by his side.
When came the time she was at the front of the line, the stallion at the table coughed into his hoof, clearing his throat and gaining Novus’ attention. He spoke in a monotone, his face cold and serious. “What be yer name, lass?”
“Novus,” She answered, “Of house Hammer.” The stallion behind the table then started to sort through many of the parchment laid upon the table. After picking one up, he spoke again.
“Nay. As of the day agone, thou shalt take only the name of thy night borne kin.” Looking down upon the parchment scroll, the stallion paused a second to read something before speaking up once more. “Henceforth, thou shalt be of the Moon family, of Maldictum Semper.”
Novus tilted her head in clear confusion as the stallion across from her picked out a pendant, similar to the one she saw on the pegasus, and many others who had left the tent. Now, up close to it, she noticed the pink horn and dark blue bat wings painted on the diamond-shaped pendant.
Taking her eyes off the object, she gave the stallion a questioning look. The stallion narrowed his eyes slightly, studying her. “Tis thy identity brooch. Thou art to wear it upon thine self of all hours,” he said to Novus, “Should ye be found with brooch abandoned, or assay abroad of Maldictum Semper, thee art to be detained.”
That was the second time she heard him refer to her hometown as something different. Something new. She asked him, “What dost thou mean ‘Maldictum’ Semper? Tis not one town of Libria Semper, Nay?”
An impatient look made onto his features, the stallion just wanting her to leave. “Aye. Thou canst look thyself, on the morrow. Tis time thee art to leave, now.”
Without another word, Novus took up the pendant, and the new information, and started for her home, just on the edge and wall of the town. Mayhap the charcoal was ready for shoveling, and she could start on that armour.
She just hoped what was to come was nothing she heard the Crystal War was like.
The crash of the hammer sounded the chamber as orange sparks flew outwards and away from the hot sheet of iron resting upon the anvil. Before long, Novus, holding the hammer in her magical grasp, struck the metal sheet again, bending it in its pliable state to a curve, suit for the armour set’s breast plating.
She had been on this piece for a good few hours, having first smelted the piece with some additional ores before she could start with the rebuilding. And while her time was spent waiting, she took that time reading over her father’s enchantment book, being left behind – along with every item he had owned in their home – in his departure.
While not many ponies knew how to read or write, those who did were taught to be scribes, – often keeping to the inside of the Sisters’ castle – were nobles of high influence or were just taught by their parents, should they have learned.
However, those whom did write would usually keep their scripts to parchment sheets, books of any quality being a luxury to those who had no knowledge on how to craft them.
She was never initially good at replicating his creations, yet she had managed to tweak some of them to work easily, and sometimes even better than they once were, she found.
Yet, there was but one particular one she had tried to alter but could not wrap her head around its workings. She decided to set it aside, however, to check upon the smelting progressing, which was now ready for molding.
She had set the ingot to cool in its cast for a good while, before setting it on the anvil, with her magic, while it was still hot and not molten. Then, Novus started molding the newly formed ingot into a breastplate, ready for enchantment.
The last strike of the hammer sounding on the anvil rung in her ears slightly as she drew the book over to her sight for the next step. Flipping through the pages of the notebook, until she happened upon that same enchantment she had struggled repeating on any item.
The enchantment was simple and invaluable, yet intricate and costly. It was a reflective enchantment, meant for sliding indirect strikes off armour. Direct piercing broke through the enchantment. And sometimes, the armour. The enchantment, however, was required by every unicorn-run smithy to be applied to every breastplate.
Memorising the spell work as well as she could, Novus charged her horn. Focusing on the breastplate, the runic parts flowed through her mind as the simplest of the enchantment was formed and applied onto the piece of armour.
Then, Novus’ observant side caught a part of the matrix that could be strengthened. But, as she set to altering it, Novus found a part it was connected to had weakened in response. Moving to fix that line turned her to another, all until all she was doing was overloading her magic.
And then, with a fizzle and a flash, the spell collapsed. Novus followed after as she fell backwards with the failed enchantment.
As Novus stood, she narrowed her eyes at the breastplate, studying it for any sign of the enchantment having stuck. None.
She let off a snort of irritation, before mumbling softly to herself, “Tis troubling…”
Setting the chest piece to the side for the time being atop a stand, Novus started to the other damaged and worn pieces. Mayhap she would have better chance with them.
She lifted first the helm in scraps, placing them alongside unrefined iron in a smithing pot, ready to start again.
Walking through the streets of the fragmented town, brown travel cloak tightly fastened around her neck, Novus took notice of the mellow atmosphere surrounding every pony she had passed.
Other ponies would often be too busy with their own affairs to take notice of their fellows. But, when they do, they would find differences in each other. Yet, with nothing to focus on, Novus saw as family were drowned down in melancholy, ponies she would see running midday market stalls sat, staring with eyes of fire at the guards, or the constructing wall or stonemasons.
Quite possibly, for their stalls were yet to pass over the new border, if ever.
Novus herself had come out to the town streets, hoping to clear her mind for the challenge waiting for her at home. Yet all she saw was the great depression that had taken the folk of Libria Semper.
She tightened her cloak with one hoof as she walked further into the fractured market, in hope of a distraction by restocking. In thought, she hoped a farmer’s stall was open, for there was yet one left in her care.
To her fortune, a single stall lay open, crates set with small piles of produce, with the thestral running the stall, cleaning, and adjusting boxes and others around the stand.
Novus grabbed her cloth bag of bits from under her cloak, untying it by the string that bound it, to count the number of bits she had on her. Alas, there was not enough for her to buy for a meal. Forlorn, she tied it by the string again, placing it back to its place.
Mayhap she best wait until after the delivery gave her pay. She did have enough food for another night, luckily.
Turning from the market, Novus walked away and towards another part of town, hoping for the peace of mind she set out to mind. Yet, it was clear just how badly other ponies had been hit. Especially those past the barricade.
She stopped as a flying shadow passed over her, moving east and away from her. Looking up and behind, Novus caught sight of Lady Sun’s closed chariot depart the town borders. Considering no towns were out that far east, only small settlements on the coast, it seemed strange to her that the princess would go there. Even after her visit to the Canterhorn.
Moving on, Novus continued to walk around town. She still had many pieces of the amour to complete, some small and vital, so she felt like she should not spend more time away than she needed. The only problem was the chest piece’s enchantment. She just hoped she could strengthen it without it crumbling again.
She also had hoped of no repeat of the Crystal War, like her what father would talk about. It was a darker time, worse than the draconequus’ reign, or so he would say.
Novus walked alongside the outer stone wall, tracing it all the way up and to her home upon the hill. She wanted to take the longer route, giving her more time to think of a simple way to cast the enchantment. She could cast it as it was meant to be, but she could not leave a spell, enchantment, or other if it could be improved.
‘Nay,’ she spoke internally, ‘t’would not do, to leave such flaws in such a spell. Not afore the worst hast yet to cometh.’
Her features softened as her mind shifted to her, one so dear. She held a sad sort of happiness in the thought she would never have seen how quickly Lady Sun, and hers, had turned upon Semper.
Mayhap it was for the best. Mayhap the princess was as betrayed, and that was why she flew east. Novus was just not sure. Too many questions. She had just best get home and hope to ride out the storm, unscathed.
She quickened her pace, now resolute and ready to face the coming challenges, as a whole.
But then, she stopped. A sudden thought stuck in her head, she doubled her pace, hoping to try as soon as she could.
T’was not long after, she came up to her home’s right, having kept to the wall – all the way up to the small hill, where her mother lay. She had moved to the smithy, just behind, when Novus realised, she had left her travel garments on.
‘T’would naught be of the wisest to step near the wild flame, whilst mineself be coated in such a beast’s food, so as to have lost mine only shelter to ash,’ she thought, her magic working to undo her cloak, setting it beside the door’s front.
Nodding to herself, she stepped within her father’s workshop. Soon, she found the main part of the chest piece, the piece that had to be applied, with magicks set to suit it, written and left opposite it.
For a long time, she stood, staring at the book. For but a longer time, it was her guide to magic. While it was with stories she shared with her mother – of fantastical and truth, with some yet untold – it was that book's content, and his craft, that she related with her father. But that was all it was to remain. A memento. A memory. A good memory.
T’was a guide, to her, yes. Yet a guide can only take one so far. And it showed her so much. But now, t’was the time to venture forth by herself. And she was ready.
As her features shifted it a look of fondness – for the memories held deep in her heart – Novus picked the book up in her magic, dragging over, and through the air, to herself. Looking upon its cover, sparing a moment to remember, she found herself reminiscing. Of many a day sat studying the enchantments within. And learning to read from its pages, once unintelligible.
Without looking at its pages, Novus set the book down on an oaken stool. Taking up the front piece, in place of the small, parchment-filled book, she prepared her magic.
Novus had no idea whether it might be successful, if she needed more practice, but she had to just try first.
The enchantment glowed, in mind and on horn. She had only the foundation to go off of, but it shan’t be too little, or so she thought.
Instead advancing to the point she would start making changes to imperfections, Novus began building from the set changes she tried so hard to apply. Focusing one up at a time, she completed the first portion faster than she ever had. Unfortunately, so wrapped in the improvements of the spell, she had never gotten so far as to applying the enchantment, but it came easy, like any other. That was when she flared.
Nothing sparked the internal reaction, yet it happened, all the same, leaving magicks leaking everywhere. Cast and tools, fire and water. All lifted, all altered, with no control but that of the wild beast that was the untamed magical energy and all that accompanied its magicks. Novus, being within the storm’s eye, had not but the faintest idea of what had befallen the humble blacksmith’s shop.
By the end, it was sure no true permanent damage had taken the shop, and its contents. Charcoal melted back from an ivory prison, wine flowed back into water, not all collecting back into its bucket. Warm coals dropped in their stony pit of the furnace. Yet all this had not been seen upon, for the lavender unicorn had been left blinded by a bright flash of some magic, left lying on the floor.
When she could see, the first she lay her eyes upon, was the armour piece in which she had worked hard to finish. Picking out a loose piece of charred wood, she threw it at the breastplate, where it flew off upon contact, in another direction. A good sign she had succeeded.
The enchantment was not supposed to be that strong, yet, one week after, it never weakened. It persisted. This effect was almost unnatural to her, as far as her understanding of magicks told her.
Yet, t’was not the power of the enchantment that left Novus a tiny bit scared and confused. Instead, it was her own power in the brief flare called upon herself. That had never happened before. Her magic had always been as tame as another unicorn’s own.
After the incident, she spent few days using her magic, lest need be, in fear of dredging out the beast that seemed to reside within her soul. But it was this day, after no poor sign, that she brought about her confidence to use her magic as regular as once was.
It was also this day that the repaired armour was to be delivered to the wall, so that it may be sent back to Mistress Moon’s castle. So, picking out the set, along with what was ordered within the days between, Novus set the arms and armours into the fenced cart her father had unwillingly passed onto her, with dangerous chest piece set atop. For, if it were to lie in the pile’s middle, there would sure to be disaster.
She donned her patched cloak, pulling the hood over her head – the pegasi had set to guide some clouds for an eve of rainfall later. Hitching herself to the harness afront the cart, Novus begun her walk to the half-built wall.
She had hoped the travel would be as calm as any other day out and had yet to be proven otherwise of her hopes, yet it was nearing the wall itself that it had proven quite disappointing.
For, nearing the wall’s check checkpoint – on which she was to trade in the armour for her pay – lay a crowd of ponies raging with hooves raised, stones held within. Most words made out were of demand, for those of lost family, surely. Small stones thrown over the wall confirmed the dispute was not one sided and Novus briefly wondered whether her father were part of it.
That point in the wall was the only one along it’s length, forcing her in one direction. Yet, while the group of raging ponies were not hoping a stone thrown would make contact, the mound was still a dangerous field to traverse. But Novus would not simply take the time to wait, for she knew not of the consequences of arriving with the convoy late in hoof.
Stuck between indecision, Novus stood to the back of the crowd, deciding upon her next course.
After a minute of thought, she started her walk anew and around the crowd.
Where the raging crowd was the thinnest, did she travel, just on its edge. Many a pony moved or were dragged, had they been slow to react, out of Novus’ way. One thestral, deeper within the shouts – with a navy topped head and tail, bearing a whitened coat – had caught her gaze. The pony had taken a glance at her – nothing unusual – but when he had seen her, his eyes widened, and he turned to another beside him – his friend, she had to guess – drawing both gazes upon her and the cart on which she hauled.
Finally, though, she reached the gate.
The front of both crowds appeared worse off than first seen. Guards lining the wall pointed spears outward, keeping ponies from advancing forward. The eyes of each armoured stallion told of fatigue as if they had not slept since the night. Shields and amour kept rocks from serious injuries forming.
Atop the wall, attempting to calm both sides, stood the same pony from days before. The one who had spoken Lady Sun’s will, after the befalling of her sister.
Approaching the line of guards, Novus was suddenly forced to stop by presence of a spear’s head pointed directly at her neck. She flinched when her eyes fell from the half-built wall, down to the offending object.
Lifting her gaze, she met eyes with a guardstallion who, for but a few seconds, held a narrow gaze before raising toward cart Novus had hauled all this way.
With a more relaxed stance, he broke his gaze, turned the closest fellow and called out for a manifest. A few seconds later, a unicorn guard came out from within the wall, scroll in muzzle, and shield in a magical field held just as a loosed stone from the crowd struck the wooden barrier, falling soundlessly to the ground. The guard passed the scroll over to the one positioned in front of Novus, who took it in his earth-bound hooves and unfurled it. Seconds later, he spoke.
“Thee art quite early,” said he, the sound of impacting stones forcing his voice louder, should Novus hear a spoken word.
“Truly?” she asked, glancing above for the suns position. It was indeed revealed to only be just before the noon when she was to be expected.
“Indeed,” he replied in answer, “Tis only but the middle of the Lady’s day.”
He looked over towards the wagon filled near it’s top with arms and amours, inspecting each one. Novus had made sure to place each particular piece requested within view, should she have more than needed, in which some might be covered and buried under the mass of metal.
“What dost thou hold in stock?” The guard asked.
Novus looked back towards the cart, trying to recall the full order, along with what had been added on. It was customary for any convoy to have their stock read out, which, if acceptable by any stationary guard or captain, allowed entry through a place or destination.
She counted up the visible stock and, while the cart was of a decent size, each piece seemed to fill it quite easily. After she placed number to object, however, she spoke, “There lay, in mine fathers cart, three swords, smithed with a ring, shouldst any pegasi or ponies of earth wield them, three spears whose wooden shaft hath been shaven from a carpenter's ash tree, two maces of pure iron, two sets of armour, craft for the use of the night guard, a-”
"Mistress Moon’s night guard hast been disbanded by the princess. Or so says he,” the guard interrupted, pointing towards the stallion still howling atop the half-built wall, “Tis unfortunate, says I. We hath lost a lot this week. More friends than brothers…” he muttered quietly.
Shrugging his shoulders, he tipped his head in Novus’ direction and, in response, finished her list. “Last wouldst be a single set of armour, repair and reenchanted for use immediately.” She paused, remembering the chest piece’s properties, before speaking out once more as the guard looked toward the manifest. “Do be wary. Tis the chest piece I worry for. Tis severely sensitive to impact.”
The guard hummed in thought, contemplating the information, whilst reading the list. Every item turned out accounted for, leading him to payment. He spoke once more. “Thou will be paid only for the commissioned arms and amour. What extra work hast been done, shalt go forwards with no charge.”
Novus wished she were to be surprised by this; she really did. But the laid in front of her, was that this was not the first time she had seen it happen. Now, she felt, it was surely to be more frequently used against anypony. It was not the nicest, but none could argue
She unlatched herself, waiting on the side of her father’s stock cart as the guards set to unpacking its contents. There was not much around her mind to think about, so Novus just kept to the side, awaiting the chance to leave for home before the crowd committed an act they could not take back.
It was most unfortunate when – by her fears, she blames – a single loose stone brought about the worst thing that could have happened.
It was sailing through the air, she saw, aimed toward the beam of the cart, most likely to collapse its foundation, when it had, instead, struck the railing of the cart and bounced from wood to enchanted iron. What followed its impact was pure, unbridled chaos.
The captain, reigning in his fellow guard from assaulting the crowd, yelled out for retaliation. Arrows rained from on high and spears were thrust towards the crowd as the crowd screamed, some in pain, and ran. So many were yelling, and a guard lay wounded on the ground, tended to by healers of the castle, his head bleeding from a puncture where a stone had pierced his helmet.
Death, while not numerous, permeated the street and, by the sound of similar screams of pain and suffering on the other side, it seemed the guards had similar orders. So, it would seem they weren’t the only ones experiencing this massacre.
Nor was Novus, who had stayed by the cart watching every bit of disaster unfold by use of a single stone and a strong enchantment, placed with difficulty on the most basic of amour.
She closed her eyes as she tried washing away the thoughts. But no relief had come to her, for the yells, they persisted.
She didn’t want to be there. All it was supposed to be, was a simple delivery. Instead, it was a disaster of the highest proportions. It happened so fast. It… it…
It sounded quieter. Fainter, even.
Novus opened her eyes, at last, gazing towards the distant scene. She could see, from her height, that, while many had continued their mad galloping, some ponies had taken to fighting on the streets, though she could scarcely make out the outcome of such fights.
Instead, she turned her head, looking around until she caught her house in her gaze. It was not that far from where she was, but that was not her first worry. The house would not move, anyhow. It was the fact she was seeing it so close from where she was. How did this happen? Did she teleport? That was only supposed to be learnt by high-class mages and magisters of the Royal Castle. How did she even do it?
Another scream from below cut her from her musing, reminding her of something vital she had left down there. For, without the cart, she had no other means of transporting goods. With no transportation came no income. No income meant no food for her and her-
She had to go back. 'Till the town calmed, however, she had naught to do but wait.
