The king and a few volunteers gathered the corpses of the bandits that laid strewn and eviscerated about the feasting hall. It was a gruesome task, for which few had the constitution. Most in attendance had never so much as touched a dead body, much less look at one.
Some of the bandits were still alive, though just barely. The only signs of life they exhibited was a gurgle or a half-conscious groan. Sombra had tasked Clash to administer the finishing blow that would end the survivors' misery before he would come to collect them.
The old soldier carried out his task with an unflinching efficiency, slipping his dagger with merciful ease between their ribs. He even took note to loot their valuables, collect their weapons, and strip them of their armor before they were dragged out through the improvised exit the Minotaur had blasted into the wall, where the carcasses would be unceremoniously burned before the stench could set in.
Ethey had made to gather the heads of the young guards, but it seemed as if she couldn't bring herself to touch them. She just stared into their lifeless eyes, sobbing lightly to herself.
Clash Steelsong watched her for a silent moment before he intervened. He collected the heads one-by-one, and placed them in the threadbare sack that had been previously used to transport them. "They deserve a proper funeral," he said, his voice callous of emotion.
Sombra lifted the body of the bandit whose spine he had severed and slung him over his back like a sack of corn. "You knew them, did you not?"
"Aye," the old master-at-arms replied.
"I will leave it to you to notify their next of kin."
"I will do this," Clash agreed.
"Good," The king replied, carrying the corpse out to the pile so that it could be burned with the others. "We will honor them at sunset. I know not your current burial traditions, so I will leave the procession to you."
Clash respectfully closed the eye lids of the last head and placed it in the sack. "From what that demented cow told you, it sounded like they died fighting. They deserve a warriors' funeral, my king. The practice is a bit outdated, but back in my day there was no better way to honor a fallen comrade." He cast a mournful gaze upon the heads of the young guards and added, "They may not have been proper soldiers, but they met their end with courage. In truth, they should have fled. They most likely would have lived if they did." The melancholy old soldier punctuated the end of his sentence by closing the sack with one sharp yank of its cord. "To be young and invincible. I remember those days."
"There is no such thing as invincibility. The only sure thing about life is that it will eventually end," Sombra intoned with an experienced certainty. "We are all born with nooses around our necks."
Clash Steelsong allowed himself a sad smile and jested, "With every word you speak you manage to put the most cynical of poets to shame, my king."
"Cynicism is but the absence of ignorance," declared the king, the matter of fact tone in his voice rendering his delivery void of all emotion. "Life's misfortunes and tragedies yield few surprises for those who expect them."
Must he be so nihilistic in times like these? The queen thought while she surveyed the terrified looks on the faces of her populace. Fluttershy looked with silent pity on those who were struggling to come to grips with what they had just seen. They trembled as they clutched their families and whispered calming words to one another. A stallion sat at one of the benches with a vacant look in his eyes, while a few others just silently hung their heads, trembling. A young girl was laying by herself on the floor in a fetal position while babbling to herself unintelligibly.
There were a few, however, who were not among the terrified mass. There were those who were now holding the king in admiration for what he had done. For them, the king was now their sentinel, their dispenser of justice, their bastion of protection that stood staunchly between them and the dangers that inhabited the frozen wasteland that was now their home. They worked hard to clear the rubble in their desire to gain his favor.
The queen directed her gaze toward the large hole in the wall as a sudden icy gale assailed her. It wouldn't be long before the harsh northern elements claimed the feasting hall under a thick layer of snow. "We'll need a crew to begin immediate repairs on that wall," she announced to anyone who would hear her.
"Leave that to me, my queen," volunteered a large red stallion. Fluttershy recognized the brute as the stone mason, whom she had noticed on her first night at the mansion repairing floor tiles. "I've been working construction all my life," he continued. "My lads and I can have this all patched up by tomorrow morning."
"Tommorrow morning?" Fluttershy said, legitimately impressed as she scanned the crumbling wall. "But, there's so much to do."
"We'll have to work through the night, but we can get it done."
"Very well, I'll see that you're all suitably compensated for your hard work," Fluttershy said with an amiable smile. She wasn't quite sure how she would reward them, but it sounded like a queenly thing to say at the time. She remembered Sombra mentioning something about a vast accumulation of treasure he had plundered over his years of living their alone. She would need to look into that later.
The mason turned around to face the toiling ponies that were the clean up crew. "Alright, boys," he shouted, his voice booming with the commanding tone of an old foreman. "By order of the queen, that wall needs patchin'. Anyone in my crew interested in a little bonus on your next paycheck, step up!"
Several burly stallions from the cleaning crew rose dutifully to the call.
Fluttershy was surprised by the alacrity of the workers as they eagerly carried out her orders. She couldn't deny that the respect and the authority she now had was starting to feel good. She found herself staring into her reflection on the tile floor, her crown gleaming brightly. She traced her hoof along the fine furred edge of her cape. The shy and unobtrusive little Fluttershy had literally become a queen over night. Everything was just happening at such an insane pace. One moment, it was like she was living in a nightmare. The next, she was falling in love, and that nightmare had become a dream.
"My king!" a mare suddenly called out. Both Sombra and Fluttershy immediately directed their attention toward her. The maid retreated toward the king and hid behind him like a frightened little filly taking refuge behind her father. She pointed to one of the collapsed tables near the hole in the wall, which was inexplicably shifting and jostling around on its own. "I think one of them is still here!"
"Everyone," the king shouted upon noticing the anomaly, "take cover." The subjects, now that they knew this was not an order to be ignored, did as he said. The construction workers and cleaning crew dropped their tools and ran to take refuge with the traumatized families and individuals against the wall on the opposite side of the hall.
The king stepped protectively in front of Fluttershy, and with one urgent flick of his horn, he cleared the shattered table, hurling a volley of splinters and broken boards against the stone wall with a powerful telekenetic blast of energy.
Laying curled under the pile was the young male griffin from earlier, who had stepped forward from the group of marauders to toss the sack of heads at the king's hoofs. He laid curled up like a bony ball of skin and feathers, a talon over his mouth in a failed attempt to staunch his own terrified sobs. His eyes widend the moment he realized his cover was gone. He forced himself onto his paws and spread his wings in an attempt to escape, but just as he became airborne he was blasted with a gout of searing light.
Sombra watched silently as the boy plummeted to the ground with a light thud, a lazy wisp of smoke rising from the tip of his horn. "I was wondering where that one ran off to." And he converged on the crippled griffin like a lion stalking a lamb. Slow and sinister was his pace.
"Wait a minute," Fluttershy objected. "You're not going to kill that child, are you?"
"I'm not killing a child," Sombra declared, glowering over the helpless cub. "I'm executing a brigand." His horn began to glow in preparation for a fatal finishing shot.
The child could only look up at him with eyes wide and wet with terror. He did not cry out for mercy. He did not try to run away. He just sat there, frozen, as streams dampened his cheeks and a puddle of his own terror expanded on the floor beneath him.
Fluttershy knew she had to move, and she had to do it quick. First she broke into a sprint, and when she realized her legs would never carry her fast enough, she spread her wings and desperately rushed forward at a potentially hazardous speed. She knew she was not as fast as Rainbow Dash, but she could swear that at that moment her speed could shatter the sound and light barrier to produce a Sonic Rainboom of her own.
Her body collided with the griffin's. The queen braced her arms protectively around him as the momentum sent them tumbling across the floor, flipping, spinning, bouncing and bowling, over and under. When they eventually stopped, she hugged the surprised boy protectively against her bosom as she looked up and observed the singed, smoking stone tiles where her husband's projectile had made impact. Fluttershy could smell burning hair. She looked down and realized the tip of her tail had been grazed.
"I could have killed you!" King Sombra admonished, bellowing. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"
"You could have killed this defenseless child!" The queen fired back. "Have you taken leave of your soul?"
"He's a bandit!"
"He's just a baby!" Fluttershy yelled so fiercely her voice was almost a scream. She could feel the young griffin digging his tremulous little talons into her for dear life, as if he had realized she was his only hope for survival. The little boy shook and sobbed. His claws stung as they dug into her, but Fluttershy paid no attention to the pain. The way he clung to her with such terror and desperation only strengthened her desire to protect him, and protect him she would do, if it was the last thing she did. "Are you so twisted that you can't tell the difference between a cold-blooded killer and an innocent child?"
"Innocent?" Sombra spat, closing the distance between them. "The little beast was nothing if not eager to present his sack of grizzly party favors to me, and you call him innocent?" Sombra stopped to glower intimidatingly down at her. And he said, with a voice dark with intent, "Give me the boy."
Fluttershy defiantly tightened her protective grip around the griffin. Looking him directly in the eye, she said, "I won't let you harm this defenseless little baby!"
"Stop calling him that!" The king demanded.
"But he is!"
"He's a bandit," Sombra repeated. "He'd slit your throat in your sleep just to make off with your pocket change as quick as he'd look at you."
"Why is everything so black and white with you!" Fluttershy challenged. "He's still just a child. Look how terrified he is. Are you seriously going to compare him to those battle-hardened savages you just slaughtered?"
"The facts themselves are black and white" The king shouted. "He's a bandit! You can use all the honeyed words you wish to describe him, but at the end of the day, all he is is a murderer and slaver!"
Fluttershy's next words managed to tumble out of her mouth before she could consider them, but once they had, there was know denying that they were the truth. "So were you at one time. And you were the worst of them all, your majesty!" There was a harsh bite in her tone when she ended that sentence.
Sombra fell silent, looking as if he had been physical wounded by the poison-soaked daggers that were her words. His expression went from surprise, to a festering, implacable rage. He let out a frustrated growl as his horn began to glow.
At that moment, Fluttershy thought she and the child were going to die.
A horrible, earth shattering roar broke from the king's lips as he reared back, whipped around, and furiously launched a missile toward the pile of corpses outside. Black flames erupted from the point of impact, incinerating the bodies to ashes instantly. The heat was so intense, all that was left of evidence that anything had ever existed in that one spot was a crater lined with glass where the soil had been immolated.
The griffin finally managed to find his voice in his fear and let out a muffled shriek of terror as he buried his face into Fluttershy's chest.
The hall was silent, save for the griffin's terrified whimpers.
"M-my king?" Ethey dared.
Sombra turned around to face her, and they beheld his eyes. Two terrifying orbs glowing so intensely they obscured the red of his irises. An eerie wisp of purple smoke seemed to be emanating from them. Fluttershy trembled upon baring witness to them. He truly did look like a demon now.
"A-are y-ou well?" the adviser stammered.
"Never better," Sombra replied with an unsettling calmness about him, and he started toward the hole in the wall. The gloom outside was illuminated by the aura of green light his eyes so fiercely emitted. The very air around them seared with blurred tendrils as he inspected the ground. "Minataurs," Sombra finally said. It appeared as if he was merely speaking to himself. "Heavy, lumbering creatures... Tend to leave very deep prints... Makes them easy to track..." The snow shuffled under his steel-clad hooves as he began toward an unknown destination.
"Where are you going, my king?" Clash finally asked.
The king stopped, though he didn't look back. "They know about us. They're most likely nearby. They'll soon be wondering why their raiding party has yet to return. I think I should pay them a visit."
The old soldier blanched. "You're going to lay siege to a bandit keep all on your own?"
The king's eyes continued to glow with that terrifying intensity as he looked back at him. They were not in the form of a glare or scowl, but perfectly round, expressionless orbs of green fire. "I am in a foul mood. Question me one more time and you will join your comrades in that sack."
Clash, despite his breadth of battle experience and military discipline, faltered under the king's terrifying gaze. "I, uh... A thousand apologies, your grace."
The king turned without another word and resumed his march along the deep tracks the bandits had made.
"When are you going to be back?" Fluttershy forced herself to say, but her husband made no reply. He simply walked until he was out of sight.
She shivered at first. Among the horrors she had bared witness to that day, those eyes were by far the most terrifying. She gazed down at the young griffin, who still clung to her like his life depended on it. "Hey," Fluttershy said to him, as gently as she could manage. "It's over now."
The griffin refused to budge. Fluttershy wondered if he could even hear her. "Hey, little guy." She gently rocked him to get his attention, but her efforts would only bare her the same results as before. That was when the queen noticed how scrawny he was. His face was gaunt, and his spine and ribs protruded form his back as if he was merely a skeleton wrapped in wax paper that had been tared and feathered. Fluttershy smiled. "You hungry?" she said sweetly.
The young griffin's trembling ceased as he gazed up at her with a curious gleam in his eyes.
Despite the dire situation she was in only moments ago, Fluttershy giggled. "I'll take that as a yes."