Inside Freedom Fighter’s memories, confusion and shock swirled around the girls like the mists of darkness curling around their hooves.
“So lemme git this straight,” Applejack finally spoke. “Your dad--” She pointed at Noble Blade, “--was the guy that rescued you--” She pointed at Freedom Fighter, “--from being held by a nation of monsters because they thought you was some sorta savior?”
Freedom Fighter nodded. “Yes, Applejack. Strong Heart brought me with him to Equestria to meet Princess Celestia. She was the one that had the inspiration to send for me.”
“Why did Celestia want to see you?” Starlight Glimmer asked. “How did she even know of your existence? You were on the opposite side of the world!”
“That’s for later,” Freedom Fighter said. “Pay attention.”
The new memory swirled into form around them. It was a sterile white room with tables and desks on all sides holding hospital equipment. It was the Canterlot Royal Infirmary, and lying on the far end of the room was a pony wrapped from head to hoof in clean white bandages. As the girls walked over to his side, he struggled himself awake, and he slowly opened his scarlet eyes.
“He’s awake,” said a voice, and the girls saw a nurse on the other side of the room nudge herself aside to allow for another pony to come forth. He was an unremarkable pony with a tongue depressor and pills on his flank, and he wore a surgical coat and a stethoscope.
“Good morning,” the doctor greeted the bandaged stallion, and as he came forth, he passed through the insubstantial form of the ponies observing the scene. “How’s our patient?”
Freedom Fighter, held immobile by the casts and bandages, did nothing except turn his head to regard the doctor curiously.
“You were drugged to nullify the pain as soon as Captain Strong Heart brought you aboard his ship to return to Equestria, but it should be all gone by now. And it looks like you should make a full recovery quite soon. Only a few more days should do it.”
Freedom Fighter turned his head to observe the stump of his shoulder, then glared at the doctor, unable to say anything.
“Well, um, apart from the amputations,” the doctor clarified, checking his clipboard on an opposite table. “Your arm and your tongue and your, um... testicles.” He made a strange face of both pity and pain. “Those particular wounds we can’t repair instantly. We tried to get some unicorn specialists to help seal the biggest wounds, but the scars you suffered will be there for life.”
Freedom Fighter let out an exhale through his nose and put his head back roughly. He closed his eyes so tightly some of the girls were thinking he was about to cry.
“But don’t worry,” the doctor said cheerfully. “Soon you’ll be in good enough shape to visit Princess Celestia.”
Freedom Fighter opened his eyes slightly wider when he heard her name. He hadn’t heard of her before Strong Heart had taken him out of the cell he was held in, so his surprise was justified.
The scene instantly switched to the Canterlot throne room. Princess Celestia was in her red velvet throne, but nopony was next to her side except for her two escort guards at the foot of her throne. And facing her and looking upwards was the stallion in the wheelchair, missing an arm and covered in bandages. Three doctors attended him at the sides, and directly behind the wheelchair was Strong Heart, anxious and worried.
Celestia’s face was contorted in an expression of agony, and a few tears of distress ran down her face. Her horn was glowing yellow, and her eyes were closed. The pony in the wheelchair was staring violently back at Princess Celestia as her horn glowed ever brighter.
Finally, her horn stopped, and she opened her eyes. They were solid white for only a second, but a few blinks was all it took for them to revert back to their normal purple color. She put a hoof to her heart. “Oh, my goodness... those memories I saw...”
Freedom Fighter, with enormous effort, nodded through the bandages.
Princess Celestia thought with a crease on her forehead, then she stood up and stomped the ground resolutely. The two guards at the foot of her throne stood straighter immediately.
“Take this warrior to the laboratory and request a fast fix to his condition,” Princess Celestia ordered. “This is a fighter for the freedom of his people, and he must not be lost.”
“To the lab?” one of the doctors asked in bewilderment. “What about the infirmary?”
“We can repair him. We have the technology,” Princess Celestia replied.
The scene instantly switched to a dark surgery theater, and ponies in turquoise coats and surgical masks crowded around a raised table with straps holding the bandaged pony down. They were working on his empty shoulder, and were locating nerves, blood vessels, and muscle tissue. The work was quiet and slow and deliberate, and they were all trying their best to be as precise as possible.
The hours passed by as suddenly as it had been introduced, and then it was quiet and tense in the surgical theater as the pony surgeons stepped back. The stallion on the table slowly woke up as the anesthetic dripped away out of his system.
He looked to his right. Nopony there but the surgeons. He looked to the left. And he bulged his eyes.
In place of the stump of his shoulder was a metal-plated arm.
Slowly, as if daring not to believe it, he twitched his arm. The mental action was instantly responsive. He slowly, slowly, curled his metal hoof. The joints were all in the right place, and the proportions were all how they should be. His hoof bent according to his desires.
“Is he doing well?” a nurse asked. “Test the movement, sir.”
Still lying on the bed, the unnamed pony waved his arm under the loosened straps. It wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver his arm, but the results were gratifying. He widened his eyes even more: the technology was far beyond anything the tribal warrior had seen before.
It was even better that he had lost his arm, in a manner of speaking. Before, he had nothing, but now his left arm was as strong as his right.
Out of nothing, there came forth power.
The operating table swung to a vertical position, and the straps on his body were loosened. The pony covered in bandages was in no condition to stand on his own, so he was helped down by the surgeons and was settled on all fours.
As soon as weight was put on his left arm, he almost fell down on his stomach, and the nurses helped him back up once more. He then cautiously tested the weight on his mechanical arm again, and the elbow joint bent, then slowly straightened. Once it was as straight as a stick, it wobbled some more, and he spread his arm to stop the wobbling. He stood there for a moment as the doctors moved out of his way to allow him room. After some heavy breathing, he was able to adjust himself to a comfortable standing position.
From behind an observation table, Strong Heart came into view. His beard was short and white and glowed in the soft light, lending a splendid contrast to his light brown coat. On either side of him were two small colts. One of them was a dark orange pegasus with a fiery mane, and the other was a blue colt with the richest color of dark blue eyes any of them had seen. A large white wolf circled around Strong Heart as well, and Fluttershy recognized it as Amaria, Noble’s pet.
“Goodness,” Firestorm commented. “I really looked that raggedy so long ago?”
His comment did nothing to affect the mood, which was his intention. Firestorm fell silent once more.
“Um…” Starlight Glimmer glanced warily at Amaria. “What’s with the wolf?”
“That’s my pet,” Noble tersely replied.
“YOUR P--”
“Oh, hush,” Freedom Fighter snapped. “Shut up. Watch.”
Starlight Glimmer shut up and watched.
“How do you like the arm?” Strong Heart asked the pony with no name. “It’s the latest in cutting-edge technology and magic fusion. Magic inside the arm helps power the arm to its full capacity. And we attached cables to your nerves so it’s molded directly into your body. The arm doesn’t rely on magic alone, so you can survive without it, but it can give you weapons when used correctly.”
“Father,” the blue colt complained. “He doesn’t need to know every detail about it.”
“He should, son,” he instantly replied. “Knowledge is the root of any advantage.”
“Yes, father,” the blue colt said, looking to the ground.
“You just got told,” the fiery pegasus smirked, tapping him on the chest.
“Oh, hush, Firestorm,” the pale blue colt said irritably, waving aside his hoof.
“Developers helped come up with the idea for it the instant you were brought back to Equestria,” Strong Heart continued as Amaria circled about him and rubbed the top of her head against his leg. “Celestia assigned it to the technology department before we were assigned to go search for you.”
“How in Equestria did she know he would lose an arm before she saw him?” the young Firestorm asked.
“Strong Heart says Celestia saw him in a vision,” the blue colt said to Firestorm.
“But how did Luna know, then?” Firestorm asked.
“It didn’t come from Luna,” Strong Heart told the pegasus irritably. “It was sent to Celestia by Faust herself. I don’t want any more interruptions out of you, Firestorm, for the rest of the time we’re talking to him. Understand?”
The fiery pegasus nodded in reluctant acquiescence.
“You just got told,” the blue colt said, ruffling the pegasus’s fiery mane affectionately.
“Oh, shut up, Noble,” Firestorm said.
“It looks like you two never changed all that much,” Pinkie Pie observed to Noble Blade and Firestorm.
“You’ll have to excuse the kids,” Strong Heart said to the unnamed pony, who himself could not have been more than his late teens. “They’re inseparable. Introduce yourself, son.”
The young blue colt observed the unnamed colt with the metal arm warily. The snowy white wolf at Noble’s side made no sign of danger, but it laid down in between Strong Heart’s legs. “Should I, father?”
“You should,” Strong Heart rumbled.
“I don’t even know him.”
“So change it now.”
“How did he get all of those scars?”
Strong Heart sighed. “Son, are you familiar with the concept of torture?”
The young pony’s face grew harder than he already was before. “Somepony did this to him?”
“And he’s only a little older than you are.”
The pale blue colt stepped forward more resolutely than before and offered his left hoof for the unnamed pony to shake. “My name is Noble Blade,” the colt spoke in a voice that, although adolescent, bore promise to become stronger in the future. “I am in training to become a knight like my father. Father says you were a warrior in the past. It would be an honor to get to know you now.”
The bandaged, unnamed pony only regarded Noble Blade with wide, searching red eyes at first. Then he offered forth his own left hoof and grasped Noble’s hoof like a vise grip. He looked directly into his eyes, red into blue, and nodded firmly.
“And what is your name?” he asked him curiously.
“That’s something he can’t tell us,” Strong Heart said to his son. “He doesn’t have a tongue.”
“He doesn’t--” Noble started in surprise, then he narrowed his eyes. “I swear to you, when I am finished being trained, I will hunt down and kill whoever it was that disfigured you.”
“Think before you speak,” Strong Heart reprimanded his son. “If you need to swear to do something, that says that you aren’t trustworthy in the first place. Your word should be the truth, not your oaths.”
“Father,” Noble Blade moaned. “I know.”
“And why should you deprive this warrior of the privilege of vengeance, and destroy his enemy when he did nothing to you?”
“The pony that did this did hurt me,” Noble passionately replied. “He hurt my friend.”
For the first time since he started talking to his son, Strong Heart smiled. “Forming a bond already, son?”
“Why shouldn’t I, Father?” Noble let go of the mechanical arm at last. “Brothers in arms are brothers for life. You taught me that when you pressured me and Firestorm to become enrolled in the military.”
“You truly are a wise son,” Strong Heart complimented him. Noble Blade beamed.
The bandaged pony was watching this exchange with a certain kind of fascination, and when Noble had finished talking, he had swiped a paper and pencil off the nearest table so it was right in front of him. Everyone watched him as he firmly but awkwardly wrapped his hoof around the pencil and stared at the piece of paper, thinking hard about what to write down.
The real Freedom Fighter spoke up now. “It was in this moment when I decided to go by a real name at last. When I could create my own name and have that be my identity, not simply being known as the son of the Rada chief forever. But I initially didn’t know what to call myself. I couldn’t go as “Unforgiven.” So what should it be?”
The unnamed pony started to slowly write something down on the paper.
“Then I remembered what Celestia said in the throne room. I was a fighter for the freedom of Equestria now. I could not do anything for my dead tribe now, but I could do something for the princess that saved me from the wrath of the Noxxa. I could fulfill my destiny in this small way, to become friends with Firestorm and Noble Blade, and train alongside them until we were ready to fight once more for the liberty of the people. Because any one of them could have been one of the Rada. So with that in mind, I chose my new destiny on this piece of paper.”
When the pony enveloped in bandages was done writing at last, he slid it forward with his mechanical hoof, and Noble Blade picked it up with his magic. “Freedom Fighter?” he asked. “Is that your name?”
The newly-christened Freedom Fighter nodded.
“Well, then, Freedom Fighter,” Noble Blade said. “Let’s begin learning how to talk in sign language.”
“Sign language?” Firestorm asked him, coming near.
“It would be inconvenient of him to write everything down all the time,” Noble Blade explained. “The sooner we start, the sooner we can work together.”
“And just like that, those two were my closest friends for the next seven years,” Freedom Fighter’s thoughts said aloud.
And the scene dissolved once more, and the memories flew by in a blur. In no time at all, the bandages on Freedom Fighter were off, and he was looking in a mirror in a small bathroom, beholding his bare skin. He was rubbing a hoof along the deep scars on his chest with a melancholy expression, and his mouth was open so he could see the spot where his tongue would have been. He closed his mouth, and he sighed deeply.
The next scene was when Firestorm was sitting next to Freedom Fighter, reading out of a book talking about sign language. They were practicing their movements after each other, and Freedom Fighter’s appearance was much less disconcerting to Firestorm’s countenance. Amaria the wolf was next to Firestorm, and Firestorm was occasionally scratching her behind her ears in between exchanges.
The next scene showed Freedom Fighter and Noble Blade trying to have a conversation in sign language. The snowy white wolf belonging to Strong Heart was lying on her side, and Freedom Fighter was rubbing her bare chest in between exchanges. When Noble Blade would sign a question and inflect his hooves upward, Freedom Fighter would respond with either a nod, a shake of his head, or a few hoof motions. He seemed to be more focused on making the wolf loll out her tongue in satisfaction than he was interested in the conversation. It seemed more like a distraction than anything. Freedom Fighter obviously wasn’t enthusiastic about it.
The scene transitioned again to the bathroom in front of the mirror. Freedom Fighter was standing on the toilet so he could see himself properly. He ran a hoof down his body, down the grooves etched into his delicate flesh. His eyes betrayed sorrow and loss as he examined just everything the Noxxa had taken from him.
The next scene showed Celestia herself talking to Freedom Fighter in the Canterlot throne room. A thin black skin was lying on the ground in front of the scarred pony, and he was attempting to fit himself inside it.
“Are you sure you want this?” Celestia was asking him. “Nopony will see your skin and know of who you are.”
Freedom Fighter nodded emphatically, and his mane, short and thin and ragged, moved with his head.
“But your friends won’t see you.”
Freedom Fighter shook his head.
“You... don’t want them to see you?”
A nod.
“Why?”
Freedom Fighter pointed at his scars with his left hoof.
“I’m afraid I still don’t understand,” Celestia admitted. “Are you ashamed of your body? Or do you want to protect your identity?”
Freedom Fighter made the sign for Both. Then he attempted to fit inside the thin tactical suit some more.
“Who are you scared will see your identity?” Celestia asked. “Your friends? Your fellow soldiers in the Royal Guard? The common citizens? Or... or the Noxxa, once you see them again?”
Freedom Fighter made the signs for Everything you said.
The scene transformed once more. This time, it was Noble Blade, Firestorm, and Freedom Fighter in a training yard. Freedom Fighter was in a thin black bodysuit, allowing no part of his body to be seen apart from his eyes. All three of them were on their hind legs, wielding a long staff. They all moved in synchronized movements to Strong Heart’s motions in front of them. Strong Heart would thrust, and the three of them would thrust. He would cut in one direction, and they would cut in that direction. Off to Strong Heart's side was Amaria, old and tired and lying down on the earth. Her ears were folded back and her mouth was thin and drooping.
Noble Blade stumbled, and threw off the movements of the others. Strong Heart stopped his guiding strikes, stuck his chrome broadsword point down in the earth, and looked his son in the face. "Noble! What happened?"
Noble Blade got back on his hind two legs, wobbling at first, but he steadied himself with his sparring staff. "Father," Noble panted, "You do realize that as ponies, we aren't meant to stand on our hind legs?"
"You're right, son. This is unorthodox training you're receiving, and you should be happy to have it."
"But I still don't see why we can't fight like the Royal Guard does," Noble protested.
"Because this method of training makes you..." He waited.
"Stronger, Faster, Braver," Noble Blade muttered unenthusiastically. "But why can't we just fight on all fours like the rest of them? Why do we have to train ourselves to fight upright?"
"Do you want to wield a sword someday?" Strong Heart asked him.
"Yes, Father."
"So train to use it with your hoof. Do not hold the ancient and noble weapon in your clumsy mouth like everypony else does," Strong Heart chided him. "Back to work, then, and focus on your balance this time."
Noble Blade looked a little hurt by the comment, but did as he was told.
The scene transformed to a sparring session where Noble Blade and Firestorm were being pressed back by Freedom Fighter. He wielded a long staff, and the speed of his strikes and thrusts and swipes in all directions pressed the other two back. Strong Heart was overseeing the sparring session, but his gaze was sad and morose as he watched his son and his friends fight coordinately in a single fashion.
Something Twilight noticed was that Amaria was no longer next to the aging father. She was gone at last from his life.
The scene then transformed to where all three of them were in the Canterlot throne room. Celestia and Luna were now both present, and both of them were grim.
“My soldiers,” Celestia said to them. “Just last week, the Changelings attacked Canterlot during the wedding of Noble’s aunt Cadence and Captain Shining Armor.”
“Thou wast not there because of thy deployment to the base camp near Appleloosa to complete thy advanced training,” Luna continued. “But in thy absence, we have decided on a course of action.”
“Ever since the return of my sister, the future of Equestria is always teetering on the brink of collapse,” Celestia said. “For now that my sister is back, new forces are rising up to challenge Equestria. The amount of world-altering events has risen drastically since she came back. And so, me and my sister have decided to create a force to respond first to potential cataclysms.”
“Wow,” Firestorm said in wonder. “Who’s in this fighting force?”
Celestia looked Firestorm square in the face. “You.”
Firestorm looked like he had been smacked in the face. He pointed at himself, twisting his face into an expression of complete incredulity. “Me.”
“You three have been in military training for over seven years now, both with the standard military forces and with your personal lessons with Strong Heart. Your lessons ended with his retirement from the military last year, of course, but you are still much more advanced in wielding weapons than any other pony in Equestria’s military. You are neither the oldest nor the most experienced soldiers I have, but I believe that this particular job is the right job for you three. Are you up to the task?”
Freedom Fighter slowly drew his head up and down. Firestorm, after a few moments, shrugged and nodded as well. But Noble Blade was still.
“Noble Blade?” Princess Luna asked softly. “Is there something troubling thee?”
“Yes,” Noble said. “I have been training to fight for over seven years now. But now that thou hast need of us, I am scared for the lives of my friends and for my performance.”
“Art thou endeavoring to speak in Old Equestrian, dear boy?” Luna asked in amusement.
Noble looked at the ground in embarrassment, pink flushing his cheeks. “Yes, Princess Luna.”
Princess Luna strode down the steps of the Canterlot throne and came directly in front of the young stallion. Noble drew his head up to look into Princess Luna’s eyes as she came near.
“My dear boy,” Luna spoke musically. “Thou hast no need to fear for thy performance for us. Thou hast proven thy worth already by thy dedication. So worry not for thy future. Worry instead for the future of thy country, and let that worry become thy patriotism.”
“But a warrior is not bothered by fear,” Noble Blade uttered.
“But every warrior has to feel fear,” Luna corrected, her voice still vibrant and full of life. “You must know fear so that when peace and relief come, thou mayest love and cherish it all the more. Shalt thou turn away from the battle deciding the fate of thy friends simply because thou art scared?”
Noble Blade shook his head firmly, making his thick messy mane sway. “Let me instead face the danger, for if I turn tail and run, I will lose.”
“Then do the same for thy fears and doubts, my loyal servant. Thou shalt perform faithfully, and when thou returnest, bask in the love I have for thy life.”
Noble stood still for just a minute, absorbing what Luna had said to him. Then, after a moment or so, he said, “I really need to learn how to speak like you do.”
“I may teach thee how to in thy free time,” Luna offered.
“Done,” Noble Blade said, shaking Luna’s hoof. “And... for thy sake, and for the glory and honor of my country, I shall serve you with every breath of my body.”
“It is done, then,” Celestia said warmly. “You three are now the guardians of Equestria. You will be the unsung protectors of our people. You are... the Guardians of the Sun.”
Noble bowed deeply before Princess Luna. Freedom Fighter, seeing him bow, did the same, and his left arm creaked as it bent. Firestorm took a moment more before he realized it and muttered, “Wait, we’re supposed to bow right now?” He hurriedly dropped to his knees.
“This is classified information,” Princess Celestia confided to them all. “You will be swifter, and more efficient, if you remain secret.”
“Stronger, Faster, Braver,” Noble Blade muttered.
“Your father’s motto,” Celestia complimented him.
Celestia turned her attention to Freedom Fighter, obscured by his thin black bodysuit. “Would you like some specialized equipment, my proud warrior?”
Freedom Fighter nodded firmly.
“See me in the armory. I have a very versatile staff we discovered in a dragon’s hoard many years ago. I believe you’ll like it.”
“And for me?” Firestorm meekly asked.
“I think I have something for you as well, Firestorm. It’s relatively easy to enchant weapons, and I’ve got an idea of what you’ll like.”
The scene then dissolved to show the three ponies talking to Strong Heart in his own house. He was out of his purple armor and was listening to the three ponies talking to him about their success.
“I can’t frickin’ believe it, Strong Heart! Celestia was able to get me flaming swords! The only time I’ve seen flaming weapons are in Ogres and Oubliettes! Oh!” Firestorm turned around with both his hooves behind his head. “Oh, and we haven’t even talked about his weapons yet!” He pointed at Freedom Fighter. His black-covered body was newly adorned with all sorts of knives, blades, and a pair of folded-up sticks at his hips. “Can you believe it? He’s got the entire Canterlot Armory on his body! So many knives and hitting-things and cutting-things and long assembly things! It’s like he’s going up against an entire army!”
Freedom Fighter flurried his hooves to the side.
“Oh, you’re looking for a challenge like that, eh? Well, I hope I get to join you when that happens, Freedom. I want to have fun, too, you know. The only time when all those weapons won’t be fun is when you’ll have to pass through a metal detector!”
When they were done, Strong Heart laughed deeply. “It appears Equestria’s gained the best it has to offer.”
“Are you bitter that you’re not captain of the military anymore, Father?” Noble asked curiously.
“No!” Strong Heart shook his head. “Shining Armor’s going to be a good new fit for the position. He’s a good lad. Almost as good as you, son.”
“Yes.” Noble looked uncomfortable. “Um, as good as me. Father... I’ve had my doubts about that.”
“Well, then, tell me, son, and don’t hold back.”
“Father…” Noble’s voice was small, and slow. “I... was not a perfect son. I took your advice lightly, and I didn’t rise to my potential. Your talk of making me stronger, faster, and braver was overlooked, and I wish to apologize.”
“What are you talking about?” Strong Heart asked, evidently confused. “You worked harder than I could have possibly expected. You were maniacal in trying to build yourself up.”
“But no matter what I did, Father, I never was truly ready to face the world. I was never at the top of my potential.” Noble Blade looked down in shame. “And when I was trying as hard as I could, I distanced myself from you. My service to Equestria is not the only thing that matters. I realize that now. I didn’t build as strong of a bond as I should have with you. It was like the harder I tried, the further I distanced myself from loving you. You’re so, so important to me, and…” He paused and wiped something from his eye. “And I’m sorry... for not being as obedient or loving as I should have been. I wasn’t as strong or as brave as you wanted me to be.”
Strong Heart relaxed his face into one of love. “Son.”
Noble Blade looked at his father. The edges of his eyes were red.
“You have made me so proud by choosing your country above me. It means that you know you are part of something bigger than yourself. You have grown beyond what I could imagine.”
“But I haven’t gone beyond what I can imagine for myself.”
“That’s what being a Guardian of the Sun will do for you now.” Strong Heart beamed.
“I haven’t lived up to your potential, Father. I’m scared of what I’ll do in my service. No matter what, I'll never be good enough for every situation.”
“Do you know how to truly become stronger, and faster, and braver?” Strong Heart finally asked his son.
“Develop and train the traits you have.”
“Right, but wrong. What I want to challenge you to do, Noble Blade, is to become stronger, faster, and braver, not by training your muscles and reflexes, but by developing faith. Hope. Charity. Those three are all important, but remember, most of all, honor. Honor your friends. Honor your country. And honor me. Honor me by spreading your goodness and love to all you see as a protector of the land we love.”
“I promise,” Noble Blade swore. Now the tears were really coming, brimming over his eyelids. He lunged forward and hugged his father fiercely.
Freedom Fighter appeared to show little interest in the display because his head was turned away, but it was really so that nopony could see his wavering eyes.
“And Noble?”
“Yes, Father?”
“Take care of Freedom Fighter. He needs you, Noble. More than anyone, he needs you to look after him and love him like a brother.”
Noble Blade hugged his father tighter. “I’ll never let anything bad happen to him, Father. I’ll let no harm come to him. I... I swear it.”
“Your word--”
“--Should be my oath, Father. I know.” He smiled. “I just wanted to emphasize it.”
Strong Heart nodded, then drew away. He reached behind him and presented something to his son. It was his own chrome broadsword.
“Father,” Noble Blade said. “That’s yours.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to be using it much more, now am I?” Strong Heart pointed out. He presented the sword handle first to his son. “The time has come at last for you to receive a true knight’s weapon. This weapon was given to me by my own father, which was passed down to him through generations of our family. Bear it well, for its worthiness is only measured by the worth of the pony wielding it.”
Noble Blade wrapped his hoof around the handle for the first time. He hefted the blade once, twice, three times. Then he examined the blade with reverence. “I’ll treasure it, Father.”
“I know you will. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have given it to you.”
The scene dissolved then, and Noble Blade and his father dropped into darkness.
The next few scenes whizzed by, and they were indistinct and quick. They went in chronological order, as it normally did, but the scenes were vague.
There was an upward glance at the dark spires of a natural rock formation called Midnight Castle. Tendrils of cold mist curled about their faces as the three ponies marched onward stealthily on a mission to rescue a group of captured Equestrian civilians.
Then there was the crack of thunder and the flashes of lightning as it poured rain down upon Arimaspi Mountain, the massive skull atop its tall pinnacle looking absolutely devilish. In a trench encircling the mountain were dozens of the Royal Guard, miserable but alert, led by three distinct figures standing in No-Pony’s-Land between the trenches and the mountain.
Then there was the clash and thundering of beating wings. The battle of dragons above their heads filled their ears, and on the ground, dragons charged at each other like jousting knights, swiping at each other’s heads and kicking each other in sensitive areas. In the midst of it all were the three Guardians, leaping high into the air to swipe at the tall dragon’s faces with their swords and staffs. It was the very short-lived civil war in the dragon lands, set up by a corrupt Canterlot politician to create unrest in Equestria. The air was red and filled with smoke; the bodies of downed dragons littered here and there.
And then they were in the massive expanses of Saddle Arabia, with tan dunes all around them rising up like the waves of the sea. The atmosphere shimmered with heat. The ground sank under their hooves. And they were surrounded by large, prancing silhouettes of black horses, twisting around them in the winds of an impromptu sandstorm created by the whirling horses. In the middle were the three Guardians, twisting to try to face the dark horses. The Saracen never stood still, however, and they pranced all the faster around the Guardians.
And then they were still in Saddle Arabia, but this time it was only Freedom Fighter in the sand dunes. He was staring with wide red eyes at the land in front of him.
It was the remains of his tribe’s land, but now the grounds were evil and soiled and infertile. The ancient remains of old mud huts sunk into the ground like it was molding. Burnt fields were off to the west. To the east, a muddy and soiled river ran through the remains of a trench. The entire land, once rich and green and lovely, was now despoiled by the evil influence of the Noxxa.
Freedom Fighter stood there, on the border between Saddle Arabia and the ancient lands of the Rada. Then he knelt down and drew a knife from his side. With his red eyes glinting along the edges of the blade, he was stiff for several minutes. Then he re-sheathed the dagger, turned around, and walked away without looking back.
“At that time, I swore an oath to myself,” Freedom Fighter explained to the girls who were obviously confused at the action. “I swore to redeem my destiny.” He paused. “I also swore an oath to Marshal Malice.”
“You did?” Rainbow Dash asked in surprise. “What was it?”
Freedom Fighter turned around, and in his eyes was a dark and malevolent gleam. “I swore that I would drink his blood.”
The girl’s faces collectively blanched in fear and sickness.
“I swore that his skin would fly from the ends of my staff like a banner. I swore to tear the meat from off his body, strip by strip, and burn the marrow in his bones. I swore to tear out his warm, beating heart with my bare hooves and crush it beneath me.” His face fell into more and more shadow, and the only features on his face were the deep white scars and the bright, shiny scarlet eyes. “And I swore that his head would adorn the top of the tallest spire of Canterlot, for him to gaze freely upon the face of the lands that he was never able to conquer.”
The girls were all looking appalled by his sickening description. Discord looked absolutely terrified; if that could happen to Marshal Malice, then it could certainly also happen to Discord. Both Discord and Marshal Malice had been around since the beginning of the universe, after all, so if Freedom Fighter could kill one of them, who was to say that he couldn’t kill the other?
The next scene flashed by--a momentary glimpse of a round floating observation center in the far distance with pegasi dive-bombing it from all directions. Catapults whipped forward, and arrows fired both at it and from it.
“Let’s skip past Skyworld,” Firestorm advised.
“Why?” Rainbow Dash asked. “What happened here?”
The bottom of the station suddenly disappeared in a thunderous explosion that shook the heavens, and it plunged like a stone to the earth miles below.
“That was me,” Firestorm said in explanation. "I, um, made a mistake with our calculations, and, well... that happened."
“Oh,” Rainbow Dash said blankly, blinking hard. “Oh, I see now.”
The last scene coalesced in front of them, showing Princess Celestia pacing worriedly in her throne room, alone and quiet. A letter was floating in front of her face, which was creased with worry lines and a deep frown.
The throne room doors opened and in came the three Guardians, looking around them before secretly shutting the massive doors. Noble was already in his grey armor, and Freedom Fighter was completely obscured by his massive thick bodysuit.
“What did you need us for?” Firestorm asked with a ridiculously oversized grin on his face. His combat outfit was sloppily thrown together and a few strands of his mane were out of place. “I don’t mind being woken up three hours earlier than I’m used to. Not at all.”
He gave a face-muscle twitch.
Celestia showed him the missive in front of her face, and her face was deathly serious. “Read this.”
The three Guardians did so. Firestorm pointed at the signature on the bottom. “Look, that’s Twilight Sparkle’s signature at the bottom! She must have written this to you telling you where the crap she was going!” He lifted his head up. “I still haven’t seen her in person, by the way. When are we going to be assigned to Ponyville and meet her?”
Freedom Fighter did a few motions with his hooves and the rest of his body.
“I don’t care if it’s not our decision to make, Freedom! It’s like we’re in different government cells and we can’t cross each other because if that were to happen, it would result in disast--oh! Oh, oh, I get it now.”
When they were done reading it, Noble looked up at Celestia. “What is the problem? I see nothing wrong with the letter.”
“Do you know of King Ironhooves and Queen Strategus taking the throne of Saddle Arabia?” Celestia asked of him.
“I can’t say I do,” Firestorm said, eyeing the paper from another angle.
“Exactly,” Celestia said, blowing a heavy gust out of her nostrils. “It’s a lie. A trick to get Twilight Sparkle away from Equestria, alone and unprotected, into Saddle Arabia, where the Noxxa have doubtless recovered from their blow from twelve years prior when Strong Heart infiltrated their lands, and hold Twilight captive for leverage--or murder her.” Celestia’s face, far from being kind and loving, was hard and fixed.
“Then we must go to her,” Noble Blade declared, reaching over his shoulder to his broadsword handle. “Send thy word, Celestia, and we shall depart for the Noxxa lands to rescue the princess.”
“Now, that’s enough, Discord,” the real Freedom Fighter said. “Get us out of this miserable plane of existence.”
Discord readily gave a snap of relief, and their world disappeared.
The contours of Rarity’s boutique then came back to the girls only gradually. They all shook their heads woozily, disoriented by the scene change. Were they all really still in the boutique? Were they all really going nowhere, even when they had traveled all across the edges of the world? It took some getting used to. And the pony of a thousand scars was standing weakly on his arms of flesh and metal. He seemed older than before, and much less energetic than they remembered.
“So. There you have it. Now you know.” He took a few deep breaths. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
Nopony knew what to say for a long time.
It was finally Twilight that cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for asking this of you--”
“No, you’re not,” Freedom Fighter snapped. “You’re only sorry because you saw suffering. Were you apologetic for asking beforehoof? Or were you only sorry once I showed you genocide and torture?”
Twilight had no answer for that.
Rarity spoke up next. “But what about those scars on your arm?” She pointed to the scratches on his mechanical arm and the shallow cuts on his right arm.
“You really don’t want to know that.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to know. But I must know, regardless of what I may feel because of it.”
Rarity’s words hit Freedom Fighter hard. She was that determined to find out, even showing no regard for her own feelings for it? He drew his head down. “You know where those scars came from?” he asked in a low, hopeless voice.
“Of course I don’t! That’s why I asked you!”
“Those scars came from me!” Freedom Fighter declared harshly, stamping his metal hoof on the ground. “You understand? Those scars came from me!”
Twilight recoiled, gasping in horror. Everyone around her made similar reactions. Discord was closing his eyes and directing his head at the ground. Firestorm was looking dejected. But Noble Blade looked furious.
“I told you,” Noble Blade gritted between clenched teeth. “I told you that that was a terrible habit once you ran out of room on your left arm!”
“What are you talking about?” Rarity asked Noble Blade.
“Every time he kills an enemy in combat, he adds a scratch mark to his left arm,” Noble explained, trying to even his voice but failing. “That’s his little ritual that he does. That's what we were talking about. But after we rescued Twilight, he’s run out of room on his arm. So now, he’s started on his right.” He rose his voice even more. “And with a Black Blade, too!”
“A Black Blade?” Pinkie Pie asked in shock. She started to bawl a fountain out of her eyes. “THAT’S NOT FUN AT AHAHALLL!”
“Wh-wh-why?” Fluttershy asked in sorrow, holding a hoof to her mouth. “Why d-d-d--”
“Stop it,” Freedom Fighter snarled, shooting the thick claws out of his metal arm and pointing them at Noble Blade. “Shut up, Noble, and learn when to open your mouth!”
“I swore to protect you, Freedom! I swore to keep your identity a secret, and to prevent a catastrophe like this from happening! But now I don’t know if it was right to do that! I--” He took a breath of grief. “I said that my word would be my oath, but now it’s broken.”
“It was my choice to reveal myself to them in the first place, Noble. Not yours. You aren’t responsible for the choices other ponies make.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t know what the right choice is!”
“But you can’t force me to choose it!”
“Why would you pick the wrong choice when you already know what the right one is?”
“You mean the scars on my arm?”
“Yes!”
“You know why I insist on the pain?”
“I DEMAND TO KNOW, FREEDOM!” Noble Blade roared.
“BECAUSE I WANT IT TO HURT!” Freedom Fighter bellowed back at him in his mind. “I LOVE FEELING IT, AND I DON’T WANT IT TO GO AWAY!”
And just like that, silence fell.
Nopony knew how to respond to that.
“I... want... to feel... the pain,” Freedom Fighter thought furiously in his head. “I don’t want to have the feeling go away because I don’t want to be a stranger to it! I never want to forget how I felt when I was captive...to forget how angry I felt at my tormentors! And I never want to forget the adrenaline rush in my veins as panic sets in when I remember what they would do to me! And I never want to have the pain go away, because it keeps me in a state of isolation!”
“No…” Noble said, shaking his head in wonder. “No, you... you... have you done this before? Not just after battles, but whenever you have a bad day?”
“Whenever my other voice tells me I should,” Freedom Fighter said.
“Whenever you convince yourself that you need to refresh yourself with the feeling of pain?”
“Yes.” Freedom Fighter pointed his head down. “Yes, you got me.” He examined his metal arm again and flexed it. The plate armor rose up, just a little. Just like flesh. “There’s another reason, you know.”
“What more could it be?” Applejack asked, holding her hat to her chest.
“All of those previous reasons I said---they’re all true, of course, but…but I also feel like what I give to the world is what I should get.”
Starlight Glimmer came forth. “Explain,” she invited him warmly.
“I distribute death and pain to the rest of the world,” Freedom Fighter said. “I am a weapon. I feel that what I inflict on others should be applied to me as well.” He sat on his rump, sagging down and allowing all the numerous marks on his arm to be displayed. “The pain I give should be appreciated by me, to let me know their pain--if only a small fraction of it. It’s... what I deserve.”
“What you deserve?” Firestorm asked incredulously. “What have you done to deserve that kind of thing?”
“I’ve killed ponies, Firestorm. You’ve killed ponies. Noble Blade has killed other ponies. He’s not innocent, believe it or not. He’s killed as many enemies of the state as I have. But the fact that he doesn’t do anything about it is infuriating to me!”
“Don’t pretend like I don’t feel guilt!” Noble Blade protested.
“I never accused you of that,” Freedom Fighter pointed out. “I never accused you of not feeling guilt. But what’s infuriating to me is how you’re able to stand healthily on your hooves, and I don’t know how to deal with all of my guilt! How do you deal with it? Where’s your outlet? How are you so strong in the face of all these nightmares we've dealt with? How are you so... so…” Freedom Fighter broke down from talking and buried his face in his right arm.
Silence filled the room, save for the sounds of Freedom Fighter crying and holding his face in his hoof.
“I...I don’t want to hurt you. A-any of you!” Freedom Fighter finally spoke, indicating the room with a sweeping metal hoof. “You’re innocent! You’re untouched by horror. So I tried to redirect my anger and my pain and my frustration and my fear onto myself--rather than taking it out on you all.”
Pinkie Pie sniffled. “But... but you make us hurt, too! If you do that to yourself, it... it makes us hurt! Sooo much!”
“How?” Freedom Fighter asked. “How does it make you hurt?”
“You don’t understand.” Pinkie Pie wiped her eyes.
“Understand what?” he growled suddenly.
Pinkie Pie slunk forward slowly, looking up at him with her head low to the ground. Her mane was still grey and flat and long. “That we love you.”
Freedom Fighter looked down, unable to respond to the passionate statement.
“We care for you. We don’t want you to feel so much self-regret and hatred! We want you to have a super-duper awesome-erific time with your friends, not…” She sniffled again. “Not hurting yourself!”
“Better me than you.”
“NO!” she screamed, startling all present. “Not better you than me! You matter! You are important! You are strong, and awesome, and we don’t want to see you so down in the dumps all the time!” Her voice started to break. “You... you are a wonderful, amazing pony, you know that? I want to see you happy about that! I want you to be happy. I want everypony in Equestria to be happy.”
And she hugged him around the shoulders, but not in the tight, breathtaking way that she normally did. It was a soft hug, a comforting hug, a warm, loving hug.
“You are not worthless,” she whispered in his sliced ear. “You mean a lot to all of us. You mean a lot to me. I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want to see you dead, or-or-or bloodied, or crippled because you thought you weren’t good enough! You don’t need so much pain in your life when there are other people that love you!”
There was an unusually somber mood emanating off Pinkie Pie that affected everyone else in the dimly lit boutique.
“But I... I love it, Pinkie.”
Pinkie put her head up in distress.
“It means I’m still alive, and that I should cherish the time I have to live. There’s a certain kind of addiction to it, Pinkie. For every day that I don’t do it, I feel an urge to do it that grows stronger and stronger. You don’t understand. Cutting myself makes me feel happy. Guilty about the pain I give to others, yes, but I also don’t know how I would go on without it.”
Pinkie tightened her fierce grip around him. “Then we need to find you something else to satisfy you. Not stimulation.”
“Then tell me, Element of Laughter. How must I do such a thing?”
She rubbed his scalded mane. “You need joy.”
Freedom Fighter’s thoughts were silent.
“There’s a difference, you know. Between joy and happiness. And it’s that joy brings you lasting happiness. For me, friendship gave me joy. And I want you to feel joy, too. So I want to say--because I have a super-duper deep concern for you--that you matter to us. Whenever I see you, my day is made better.”
Freedom Fighter let out a choked sob.
“You are special to me,” Pinkie said, emphasizing each and every word. Her mane was still grey and flat. She drew her head back to look into his face. Her blue eyes pierced his red ones. “You matter to me. Please, believe that. Always remember that. Don’t you dare tell yourself that you don’t. You will never be an outcast so long as somepony loves you for who you are.”
The words jogged his memory. Earlier that day, he had spoken the exact same words to Derpy when he had seen her at Octavia and Vinyl’s house. He sighed ashamedly. He was thinking more of somepony else and not himself when he had said those words. How could he have been so blind? Before he could help it he was planting his face onto Pinkie’s shoulder and sobbing into her skin.
But there was one more surprise for him.
“You... are... not unforgiven,” Pinkie Pie added haltingly through her tears. She squeezed him tighter and said in a whisper, “For everything that you’ve ever done to yourself... I forgive you.”
And that did it. Freedom Fighter’s insides shattered with pent-up emotion, twisting his stomach to an unearthly concoction of love, guilt, regret, and despair. He felt like his insides had been bent into a knot.
Yet at the same time, it felt like his mind was clean of his twisted emotions, that his body was scrubbed clean and he was pure and pristine once more, like his body was smooth and unmarred by whip, knife, or burn. It was a feeling that he hadn’t experienced much often before, but once he felt himself forget about his missing arm and his scalded mane and his Unforgiven brand, he never, ever, ever wanted it to go away. It was pure, unfiltered joy bubbling up inside of him, and wonder and remorse and love.
“You... you have no idea how much I needed that, Pinkie,” his thoughts whispered, gently squeezing his metal arm around the back of her neck. “Please don’t change, Pinkie. Don’t you dare ever change.”
“Never,” Pinkie promised with a wavering smile. “I’ll always be Pinkamena Diane Pie.”
They lingered like that for as long as Freedom Fighter needed to--he didn’t remember how long he stayed like that. But once he was done receiving the therapeutic hug from Pinkie Pie, he drew away and wiped his eyes. “That actually helped. I feel better now. I feel so much better than I did before.”
“Should I set up a “Sorry Some Mean Old Beastie From Tartarus Whipped You To Shreds” party just for you?” Pinkie Pie asked with a hopeful smile. A portion of her mane started to appear more poofy than before.
“No thanks,” Freedom Fighter declined. “But taking off this suit relieved a great burden on my back.” He turned his head to the side and twisted his face into an incredulous expression. “Oh, you don’t say, Freedom!”
“Are you going to be all right?” Twilight asked him. “I know this was hard for you, but are you going to get by on your own?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” Freedom Fighter gave a small thin-lipped smile and raised his metal hoof above his head. “But that’s what friends are for, aren’t they?”