A slow trotting down the hurriedly cobbled excuse for a road. The rest of the army came along to, their collective hooves making a sound akin to heavy rain- yet that sound too was smothered by the rain. Did we honestly have to come here? He thought, the duke was known to be paranoid and to come down himself simply helped prove how scared he was- to me at least. I was his scribe and assistant, helping him with letters and keeping him informed. My mother had told me that trivia helps no stallion rise up- she was wrong clearly.
Nonetheless this march to put down a ‘human revolt’ was utterly pointless. They were savages, animals who had not yet achieved sentience like the rest of the Noble Races of Equus, my duke had been tricked like this before- to have his army used for the southern counts’ own reasons to hold onto their power. The humans simply remained tame as ever, working in the fields, logging. Yet to mull over such things was useless, they were a useless species in his opinion. Their chance of glory wasted by themselves, those hands were such a gift-such a wasted gift, “Damn this damned, cursable rain.” He muttered, rain was something he did not like, as a unicorn he preferred his inside studies to write things which either interested him, or got him his bread. He would not break the rules of Solaris’ empire after all. The Duke, Land Weaver, had one of the greatest areas of agriculture in the Holy Solarian Empire, and it might’ve added some legitimacy to this little expedition. But not to him, a waste of resources, instead of watching on the slowly growing antelope immigrants from their lands- words of an unfathomably bloody war bleeding from their collective mouths, and the growing hostilities between pony and antelope could become far more serious. Yet instead Land Weaver had states a march south, oh how he hated the rain, looking around the foliage of the forest concealed much, but the lanterns held above on shafts attached to some pony’s harness allowed some light to pierce into the old foliage, growing unchallenged over the other plants underneath them.
All of a sudden, he saw what he thought was some small metal sticks. Ah how beautiful nature was, constantly mocking the Noble Races for their attempts at creation, he turned his head back to the road. Nearly tripping on some cobblestone, he was caught by some guards pony, the teeth grabbing his small cloak and hoisting him up by his neck alone, “Watch it, you want to keep your ‘fancy fur’ clean don’t you?” A grunt in acknowledgement, it was his job, he did nothing to earn a thanks, like he himself got no thanks after the hours of writing- it was his job, and he would do it proudly.
His ears were soaked, he hated that, a horrible feeling. He turned to the duke, of course feeling no anger towards him in the slightest, he was a loyal servant. Yet, he had already expressed his views, to do so again would be to pester, and they had already gone a long way towards their goal. To stop and turn back would be even more of a waste. Sighing in defeat the pony kept trotting on. Then a large thud happened, and something rolled in front of the column of troops and assistants. A nut perhaps? Few people ever came to this wretched forest anyhow, no point was seen in maintaining the weather. Might be some crime to nature that could thrive in such unorganised conditions. But upon closer inspection, he shrieked. It was a severed pony head, the face frozen in one of tearful fright. He was about to shout a understandable reason for his scream, when it was replaced by something far more deep, it was not a single animal- it had to be plenty, and from the forest, ripping that foliage from the tree till it fell underneath their boots, were humans.
Armed humans, humans who did not look very subservient. Humans who were parading dead pony body parts upon long shafts and the like, “How.” He managed to say, his body tensing up ridiculously, humans shouldn’t be capable of their own organisation, the ponies had formed a line facing them, attaching weapons to their hoof-holders. It was clear none of these stallions had ever fought before, and they were terrified. Then the humans parted way, and another human came forth, around a head taller, his mane coloured blonde, and in his hands a clearly used mace. He pointed at the ponies and shouted, to everyponys surprise, and somewhat horror, in the language of the pony, “Surrender or you will face my wrath!” His voice mangled the words, they were not supposed to come from such a mouth, yet he was terrifying, surrendering would be a good idea.
Until some patriotic idiotic shouted, “Come at us then!” The human, although mostly obscured by the rain, actually seemed to smile. It took pleasure in this? How…
Suddenly from the other side of the column another group of humans surged out, running down and cutting at anything on four legs, the leader commanded those on his side to do so as well.
An ambush, well prepared and positioned ambush- such a feat should not be attributed to these beings, they were animals. Had they achieved sentience? Such a pondering would have to wait, as the pony began to run. Fast, back where he came, as he enared the duke he was grabbed by a guard, “Excellent, I knew you were a loyal subject, now assi-“ he was cut off by a javelin to his face, the blood smashing itself onto the face of his assistant. He began to cry and weep as he kept running, his legs began to ache due their long march combined by this sudden outburst. There had to be a way out, he smashed his head around, looking for a place to go. The foliage, there! He thundered to it, only a few paces away. Before getting smashed on the head and his eyes drowned in a sea of black.