The Last Crusade · 12:47am Feb 29th, 2016
I first saw the stranger drinking in a little bar overlooking the Lunaga called the Dashite’s Head.
Why the name? I was curious too, until I saw the actual Dashite’s mummified head on a pike behind the bar. After that, I learned one of the first rules of Lunangrad’s surface: questions are usually not necessary, and when they are, it’s best not to ask them. Every city in the wasteland has secrets worth seeking out, we all know that. There’s always one more bunker or one more locked strongbox to break into. Ponies will probably be digging through the old world’s detritus for at least half a century more before we’ve really gone through it all. It’s the food that runs out, mostly, but that was never a problem for Equestria’s isolated, brooding northernmost sentinel.
I had come to Lunangrad for two purposes. The first was to research the area on behalf of the New Canterlot Republic’s nascent cartographer’s office. It was a new project, offering caps and more for reliable map information. Give them a good rundown on what the local trade is like and which ponies like to greet newcomers with assault rifles and which just want your caps, and you might can win yourself a cozy home in one of their new settlements. Mostly, I needed the bits.
But that was just to cover my expenses. It wasn’t the real reason. The real reason I came to Lunangrad was for a story. In particular, a story that been ignored too long. It wasn’t grand, perhaps, as most of the others that were circulating. It was no Tale of the Lightbringer. This pony was no Security, if she was even real (who the hell believes anypony stupid enough to live near the Hoof?) or slave rebellion leader. In fact, he came in halfway through the great upheaval of our times and the radio that hailed so many other heroes just… seemed to forget about him.
Which is strange, considering I’ve found the original recording that first announced the Lunangrad Crusader’s explosive entrance onto the scene. In a very, very low point during the chaos of a few years ago, he received a report about a brave stallion in this very city, and the tone of his voice was not merely excitement but a hope that was slowly being revived, that wanted so desperately to believe…
Sorry. Save it for the book.
I knew the stranger, though he did not know me. Or, I knew of him by the word of others on the outskirts of town. I knew his name, cutie mark, and as much of his history as anypony knew, which was essentially nothing beyond what was obvious within seconds of seeing him.
This stallion in a duster and worn drakeling scale hat could kill me before I even saw him move. Probably without even blinking.
So, I sat down across from him at the open air table with at least some trepidation.
He spoke first.
“Now, there are plenty of tables, partner,” he began. His voice did not change throughout—it kept a flat, painfully false friendliness. “And you happened to sit at mine, and in this place of all the gin joints in the city. All of that, and you ain’t asked me somethin’ neighborly-like. You know, ‘hey, can I bum a light?’ or ‘round on me’.”
“I’d be happy to get a round on me, actually,” I said.
“I’m sure you would, little sack of shit. Now, you ain’t asked my name and you’re still here, so that confirms it. Who are you with, hm? Take your time. I wanna finish this.”
He started chugging the vile brew the locals call Lunaga Lightning, which is a wonderful name for the worst of poisons. I knew what this was. He was giving me a chance to leave. I didn’t leave. Swallowing, I sat at attention, hoping I appeared as nonthreatening as I was.
He finished, sighed, and looked me over.
“You are a stupid son of a gun, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been told that,” I admitted with a smile. A nervous smile. “Mr. I—“
“Say my name and you die. In fact, say any of my names, and you die.”
I shut up.
“If you’re willin’ to just… Luna, kid, you know what? I don’t think you’re from anyone I care about. You an’ me are gonna go on a walk, understand? I ain’t gonna shoot you. Get up, walk out that door. I’m behind you.”
I was, at this point, fairly convinced that I had already been killed. Everything left was just the paperwork for the inevitable execution. I was numb with the shock of how quickly this stallion had decided to kill me. His eyes, red as blood, stared at me dully. He lit a cigarette.
“Well?”
I rose and left automatically. I heard him right behind me. As soon as I was out of the gate that led to the Dashite’s little patio, I began to shake. Out in the street, he was on neutral ground. Authority wouldn’t care about an out of towner dying, and they were skeptical of the NCR. He would murder me in an alley somewhere and that would be it, no more. No book. No me. All I had on me was a flimsy .22 and my magic.
But he didn’t pull any wingblades or gun or anything. He simply puffed on his cigarette and gestured with his head down the street.
We walked past an old carriage wreck and once we were half a block from the bar, he spoke again.
“First, I thought you might be one of Black Betty’s. She’s been lookin’ for awhile. I don’t kill those, on account of they ain’t gonna hurt me. BB jus’ wants a friend back, but she needs to grow the fuck up and learn when to quit on ponies. Who else? The raiders send some of their raw meat my way sometimes for shits and giggles, but none of that is serious. They like me. It’s like a gift. Fuckin’ monsters. If they would just leave the rust belt I might could pop some of ‘em.
“I thought the Dashites might be lookin’, in which case I ain’t sure what we would even say to each other but I might actually listen to one of them. But they wouldn’t trust a hornhead, I don’t think. Steel Rangers have, what, like eight ponies in the city? Yeah, and they wouldn’t trust a traveler with the survival instinct of a feral ghoul. ‘Sides, they don’t care. Enclave? Enclave cares a whole fuckload of a lot but once again, unicorn, and they woulda just dropped a bomb on the bar. Army or the Lost Legion? Not sure what they would want with me, I never did them a wrong or a right. Slavers have more grit than you and you ain’t no slave. Authority? Thought that but they’re scared shitless of all of us that walked with him. So who are you?”
I blinked in the failing light. The smoke from his cigarette curled up around the brim of his hat and I watched it for a second, trying to parse even half of what he had just said.
“I’m from the NCR. New Canterlot—“
“Republic, yeah, we get the news here. Whoop-de-doo. For what it’s worth, hope it goes well, but it ain’t got much to do with us.”
“Perhaps. The job is just to provide a map for caravans and maybe some information on what ponies here want and need and what they have to trade. I’ve already gotten that.”
“Heh, bet you have,” he said. Something was strange about the way he said it. I shivered.
“Right. Um… well, the other part is for myself. I want to know the story. I want to know about the Crusader.”
“Of course you do, chickenshit.” Another long draw, another dragon-like smoke plume. “Course you do. Why should I tell you anything about the kid? Don’t you have the Stable Dweller or the police filly or whatever?”
“Security. If you believe any of it.”
“Says the one from the Lightbringer’s neck of the woods.”
Hyper-aware of how deadly this stallion was, I grit my teeth and spoke slowly. “There is a lot of proof and her companions are willing to tell the story, as did she herself. There’s a book now, you know. And I’m not interested in her, she’s already been written about, she’s done and told. It’s a wonderful story, but it’s not the one I’m after. The Crusader waltzes into the shared consciousness of Equestria for a month or two and then vanishes. Where did he go? What did he do? He was perhaps one of the strangest heroes that DJ PON3 reported on, if only because he seemed to have turned a whole town upside down and yet there was so little information on him.”
I took another deep breath, prepared to continue, but he stopped me.
“Why?”
I blinked. “Why?”
“Yeah. Why tell the story? We all know it, and we all are the ones who really need to know it. Everypony in town has a story about him. Half the stories are bullshit and the other half are only half-right. If you say that it’s because he’s a hero, I’ll tell you to go fuck yourself with a HE grenade and be on my way. There’s bein’ a hero and there’s bein’ a pony worth givin’ a damn about, and between those two there is a hell of a lot of space. I would know.”
I wouldn’t. I licked my lips nervously. But… how do you explain to somepony willing to walk in a heartbeat?
“Is he a hero? Yes, I suppose he is. That’s what everyone I’ve asked has said. The Crusader is a hero. He saved so and so and killed so many raiders. He stopped a flood and rescued foals. He dug deeper than anypony dared and soared without wings. No bullet ever touched him and no fire could scald his flesh. Sometimes he appeared in pony’s dreams to warn them against some evil action. One pony told me very seriously that Luna and Celestia flew at his side in battle and that they spoke through him sometimes.”
The stallion snorted. I continued.
“One told me that he was really rather gentle when he wasn’t trying to save ponies from imminent death. One told me that the Crusader was a heartless sort who did good because it was a way to kill that other ponies wouldn’t care about. One told me he loved three mares and married them all in front of two armies. One told me he was into colts and that he ran off with a ghoul zebra. Fighting a dragon. Huanted trains. Taking down a whole enclave patrol singlehoofed in ten seconds. Racing a Steel Ranger for the privilege to wear his armor. Starting a war and ending one. Losing friends or killing them himself. They couldn’t agree on his weapons, his species, his height, or even his age. I’ve heard everything from barely out of his colthood to ancient and even a few that insisted he was like some sort of ageless angel of Luna herself.”
“I’ve heard all the same.” The stranger grinned at me but it was not a nice grin.
“It’s a load of bull is what it is,” I said, and I knew my frustration shone through. “And it isn’t right. Is he a legend? I guess. Legends grow and they belong to everypony in the end, and to time itself. But he was a pony, wasn’t he? Doesn’t he deserve for somepony to know his story, his real story, without all of the other added garbage? Doesn’t he deserve to half at least that, in the end? Soon, no one will remember the truth and all the good and evil he did will just be fairytales and myths twisted to justify or inform every fool with an idea about the world.”
“And you want the truth.”
“I want as close to it as I can get. Everypony deserves a chance to be a real pony and not just a shadow, even heroes.”
He stopped. I stopped.
“Then come with me. We’re headed to a little station town, other side of the river. I’ve been walkin’ there all along, just in case. Lucky for you, I’m gettin’ tired of ponies bein’ wrong all the time. You write your book and you don’t breathe a word of where you got what you know unless you gotta, and I’ll help you trace his every step. But first, it starts in the station town of Mosaic on the eastern shore of the Lunaga. And it all began when he saw something that he shouldn’t have seen.”
INTERESTING.
Seems to me like a FoE story with a similar framing device to Patrick Rothfuss' Kingkiller Chronicles...
3782876 That was actually exactly what I had in mind.
3782876 thought the same XD In a way, I like it as this simple one-shot, it leaves everything else to the imagination. As the other option would be a hundreds of thousands words-long epic, I'd rather have only this, else Cyne's other works would be on pause for quite some time.
That reminds me, gotta finish reading FoE Project Horizons sometime...
What other FoE stories did this reference, anyway?
3782879 And I'm always overjoyed when I meet others that have read the series.
3782880 It references FOE and Horizons, obvs, but the Crusader himself?
The first story I have in my gallery is about Swift Balm, the Lunangrad Crusader. It is very rough.
Actually, I have about 12K of this afterwards and counting. This is the "foreward". I'm on chapter 2 right now and it is mucho saddo. I'll be releasing it once Alien Suns is finished, give or take a few days.
3782888 Cyne, you're always full of surprises XD Nice to know that. Even though I'd like to see AS last longer, gotta recognize it's only about first contact, not all that'd come with it.
3782909 Oh, we're already to the 2/3 point of Alien Suns. It's about what comes after.
Or what won't, really.
Ok, you have my attention...
...I just peed a little from sheer excitement.
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I'm not sure how it will be received. The Crusader is pretty different from most of the major wasteland heroes. He's younger, for one. Just as scary in some ways and laughably ill suited for heroism in others
3783047 It's going to be good. You'll be fine!
...anybody got a pair of boxers I can borrow?
3783047 Well, lets see how it stands up to Pink Eyes...
(ABSOLUTELY NOTHING can compare to Kkat's original work... That is the ULTIMATE novel, in my opinion)
3783086 I have my quibbles with the original, but on the whole I agree. Kkat avoided narrowly many of the pitfalls that seemingly more talented disciples ran right into at full speed.
I would/will read the shit out of this!
This sounds great hope it comes out well.