//------------------------------//
// Chapter 1 - The Turn of a Friendly Card 
// Story: A Thorny Rose, a Gilded Lily 
// by Zael 
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Laughter and warmness filled the inside of the "Black Dragon", one of the most rowdy inns of Canterlot. Situated between the rich and the relatively poor part of the city, its clientele was really variegated: you could find nobles and workers drinking, singing and playing games together.
The "Black Dragon" was an institution in Canterlot, and some people even said that its foundation was even before the banishment of Nightmare Moon; built with stone, bricks and wood, the interiors changed variously during the years, but the exterior remained the same: white painted walls, name in capital letters made of stone and the metal insigna right up the middle of the name.
A building rich in story and in tradition, owned by the same family from the foundation: its current innkeeper, Ale Barrel, a well built earth pony with a brownish coat, a white mane and a very particular accent, always brought in as many customers as possible: his artisanal beers became famous even in other cities, so many travellers just took vacations to Canterlot just to try them, always served draft and with some dish prepared by Barrel's wife, a slender earth pony with a blond mane and a greenish coat, named Elderflower.
That night, nobles and commoners alike were particularly joyous while engaged in multiple card games, which mostly involved bets like extra mugs of beer or liquor shots, just because Barrel announced the birth of a new beer, and all the customers took this very seriously: not always you could have the first tastes of Barrel's creations, but when you did, well, it was definitely worth the time. Cards were played, while laughs and some friendly swears flew in the air; but there was a guy, sitting on a stool near the counter, in silence, with something like seven empty mugs in front of him. He made a gesture with an hand, trying to call the innkeeper, which answered:

"Ya know, bein' gloomy isn't an option after chugging down seven mugs. Either ya're in deep shit or somepony took ya tongue off. What's the answer, champ?"

"Just give me another, Barrel. Something stronger."

The innkeeper frowned, but proceeded to give another mug to his only unhappy client that night. He knew him well, since he came to try to get inside the Royal Guards: a huge and bumpy road for a guy without a family, but, while he seemed to pass every physical and magical test, he didn't get in because of his character; instead of coronating his dream, he became a sell-sword.

"Petal, ya can't keep having this mood swings ev'ry time! Ya made real cash, ya could just say 'fuck it', retire and live like a noble! Heck, maybe even better!"

He wasn't wrong. His customer was indeed a rich pony: even with Equestria in peace with basically everyone for a long time, despite some minor argument with changelings, opportunities for war were common, and he never missed out the big ones. He sold his sword in Zebrica, in Griffonia, in Roam, Saddle Arabia, Neighpon and Prance: quite a fit for someone that young, which showed that, at least martially, he was Royal Guard material. The young pony drank his eight beer like fresh water after a day in the desert, then took out a little sack of bits and told Barrel:

"Give me also that bottle of firewater, inside the sack there should be enough money. And a key for a room upstairs."

Barrel rolled his eyes, looking his young customer. His blue coat reminded him of a starless night, and it deeply clashed with his spiky mane and tail, amethyst with black stripes; a little braid which mixed the two colors went down behind his left ear, and it was closed with a little white pearl. His usually smug expression was replaced by a gloomy and deep one, and his usually active bright red eyes seemed almost dull. He was still dressed with his battle attire, sign that he came back to Canterlot that day itself; his armor was dusty and his clothing was nearly ragged: even the metal tiara protecting his horn wasn't in a good shape. Barrel sighed, a little heartened about the key requested by his customer: at least he would've gotten a real bed instead of sleeping out in the streets or outside Canterlot.
He gave the guy a key and, a little reluctantly, the bottle: he knew that Petal had a strong resistance to alcohol, but it was the first time he saw him drinking out of unhappiness instead of partying or joking around. Slowly, the unicorn made his way between the laughing customers, drinking directly from the bottle. The strong liquor gave him some comfort, as he went up the stairs. Conveniently, Barrel gave him the room number one, so he immediately entered.
The room was really quite something for an inn, but again, the "Black Dragon" was so much more: high quality wooden furniture which included a dresser, a wardrobe, a big and soft bed and, incredibly, even a private hot water tub. Usually, pegasi and earth ponies had to ask for the hot water, even if it was included in the room cost, but for an unicorn, only two simple spells were needed, which Petal effortlessly casted. After freeing himself of the battered armor and the untidy clothes, leaving his chiseled and well toned body stark naked, he immersed himself in the warm water, enjoying a bit of solitude and of warmness. Despite his will, his thoughts drifted away to his last contract…


* * *


"So, that's the job? I expected something more challening, sir."

The unicorn looked at the zebrican sultan, Ashraf II: a truly fat and almost bloated zebra, violent and decadent in his mind. A despicable employer, but Shrouded Petal knew better than to question the ones who paid his services. The high-pitched voice of the sultan replied, almost panting from the heat:

"We don't know the numbers of the rebels, we know only were they are. That's why you will lead our personal guard and eradicate everything in your path. We'd have liked to send our dear captain, but unfortunately, he's sick: so we thought, we know of someone brave and competent, who wouldn't certainly refuse such an opportunity for easy money."

"As you wish, my lord. I shall depart immediately."

Bowing, Petal exited the throne hall, only to find thirty fully armed spahis, sparing him the pain of drafting them from the barracks. They were fully armored with a highly decorated chain mail, with their flanged maces on the side: every edge was masterfully decorated with gold inlaid zebrican motives; their shields too were beautifully crafted with the finest steel available in Zebrica.  

Spahis were one of the two élite corps of the sultanate, the other being the janissaries; they were both corps of slave soldiers, and they differed from each other thanks to armor, weapons and role in the army. While janissaries usually were lightly armored and used deadly bows, spahis were heavily armored and used shields and maces.
This division reminded him of the division between mamluks and ghulams back in Saddle Arabia, which in the past had conquered the ancient Zebrica, basically changing or integrating zebrican culture with the arabian one. Sure, Zebrica revolted after a while, but their culture was enormously changed when it happened.
Speaking in his not so good zebrican, Petal said:

"Come on, let's get this done with."

Guided by the officer of this little detachment, two full days passed until they arrived at what seemed to be a normal zebrican village. There was no sign of rebel activity, but there was in reality no sign at all: it seemed like a ghost town. Petal decided to open a door, and inside of the house he found a female zebra with her two little children; making the gesture for them to come out, he said to the spahis to do the same for every building. A crowd of people in the end assembled in the town square, made by women, children and elders, with no sign of the adult males. Asking the same zebra he found before, in his unsure zebrican, Petal said:

"Madam, where are all the males?"

The woman waited a bit, fairly scared at the sights of the spahis and of the equestrian stranger, then she answered, tears forming up in the eyes:

"In a cave in the desert, no-one here knows where. We don't know what are they doing, we just know they follow a man called Shapur."

Petal asked one of the sipahis to translate what the woman said, and then he nodded. He proceeded to gather up the sipahis, and said them that they had nothing more to do here, and that probably someone tipped off the rebels which retreated in a hurry, leaving here their families and almost all their belongings. The soldiers stood there, until the same one who translated for Petal before took his mace and swung it in the face of that female zebra, smashing her skull and killing her on the spot. His comrades started doing the same, while a petrified Petal couldn't react at that mindless display of violence. After the shock, he shouted in the face of one of them:

"What in Tartarus are you doing?! They're just women, children and elders, not rebels!"

The soldier didn't respond until all the people were beaten to death. Only then, he replied:

"The rebels will know now to not mess with the Sultan. Our mission is done."

Petal fumed in rage, because he had a moral code and he fought only armed people, or drunk idiots on fistfights. He rushed to return, traveling the desert driven by anger, only to arrive right when the sultan Ashraf was giving a party of some sort; the fat zebra saw him and made a disgusting smile while laughing, and called him in equestrian:

"My dear Petal, I hope everything went well! So, are the rebels dead now? Or did you leave them on the edge of life and death only to suffer more for their miserable existances? Nobody will challenge the Sultan of Zebrica now, thanks to you!"

Resisting the urge to punch him in the face and to beat him into a pulp, Shrouded only answered, with a cruel and violent tone:

"If you think that slaughtering women, children and elders is a good thing, well, I abhor you, and if it wasn't for this party here, I would've shown my blade into your chest. Never call me again, or I'll kill any messenger you will send. As for your blood money, you can keep it: I know what honor is, and by all means, I will not accept a payment for that horrible massacre."

After talking like that, the unicorn stormed outside, denying the sultan's possibility to reply. He decided to return to Equestria for a while, to boil off his anger and gain a new purpose in life: as much as he liked being a free sell-sword, instead of a highly regulated royal guard, he needed to pull the plug and just do nothing besides drinking and trying to forget this experience.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.


 * * *


Shrouded got out of the tub while the water was getting lukewarm, and spat inside the water after remembering that contract. He never saw professional soldiers acting like thugs, much less killing innocents without any remorse: the cultural difference couldn't be the reason. It was probably an action ordered by the sultan himself, but it felt sick and wrong. What kind of ruler could kill its people so brutally and sleep well at night? 
Finishing his bottle, he threw himself on the bed, ranting more about honor, justice and retribution, sign that the alcohol was finally entering his mind, asking for sleep to come.
Except that the drunk pegasus entering his room surely wasn't named Sleep, and she was too drunk to notice that she didn't enter her own room; and Shrouded was already drifting off to sleep after a brief state of drowsiness. She gently fell on the bed, her light frame and soft wings landing right onto the unicorn's toned chest, and let herself fall victim of a dreamy night.

As much as the night was dreamy, the awakening was quite the opposite, involving a lot of screaming, a slap into Shrouded face and various accusations. The pegasus shouted, with a clearly embarassed tone:

"Why were you in my room, on my bed and completely naked?"

"Well, first of all this technically is my room, as good old Barrel gave me the key and I, probably with alcohol's help, didn't lock the door, and second, I wasn't naked!"

Yelled Petal in response, indicating with his finger his boxers. Then again, his underwear wasn't exactly really large, so his little Petal could be clearly seen hiding under the fabric. The pegasus' face became red as a beet, as she took her key and showed it to the unicorn, shouting:

"See?"

Shrouded took his own key and quickly the pegasus realized her mistake: with the number one being written a single line, she figured out that she had the room one-zero, ten, and the unicorn had the zero-one, which they were currently in.
Hearing all that fuss, Barrel quickly went up the stairs only to find this situation, and the pegasus screamed again:

"I don't care if I'm in the wrong, I am a noble and I demand your excuses for letting me sleep on you!"

Barrel's eyebrows went sky high as the unicorn shrugged and said:

"I don't care, you could even be the Empress of Stubborness-land and I still couldn't care less."

"I'll take this thing to the guards, trust me, and you're going to be in prison before the sun goes down today!"

And she stormed out, not even noticing Barrel, which was about to burst into laughter, and he did, right after Shrouded rolled his eyes.

"Aye lad, ev'ry day a new adventure, uh? Hope the frigid mare didn't give ya much trouble!"

"Well, still better than my last work. Wait a second, how do you know she's frigid? You are a married one!"

Jokingly accused Petal, being dragged into Barrel's laugh. Both guys laughed their asses off, until the innkeeper said:

"So, yer last job didn't go well?"

"Awful. Remind me of never work for that piece of shit sultan again. Though I'll be more than happy to work for his enemies, mind it."

After a brief pause, he asked:

"You think that crazy one will really go to the guards? Seemed pretty serious to me."

"Don't ya worry, lad. Even if she goes, she's the one wrong, plus I can pretty much advocate yer innocence. And by the way, couldn't ya actually arrive at the guard station before her? Ya're the Chos…"

"Don't finish that sentence, Barrel. We both know I don't like to remember that part of my life."

The earth pony scoffed, and gave Shrouded a huge pat on the shoulder.

"It's part of who ya're, not something ya can just throw away, remember that. Though, if ya want to lay off a bit from the wars, I have a job with low problems, a good pay and a relative tranquility. What do ya say?"

"Well… a bit of peacefulness would do me good. As much as I like fighting, having done basically only that for quite a while, it gets pretty much annoying. What's the job?"

Barrel's laughed and said:

"Pack yer things, come down and I'll say ya ev'rything ya want to know. Also, a bit of breakfast can do wonders after that rowdy awakening!"

And he went down the stairs, leaving Shrouded alone. The unicorn stretched himself and conjured some water into the basin, as he proceeded to wash his face. The cold water stung a little bit when it touched the spot where the pegasus slapped him, but it also helped much with refreshing Shrouded. He started putting his things in his bag, comrade of a thousand adventures, but left out a clean change of clothes which he put on immediately. He also put on the armor and the belt with his sword attached, just in case: Canterlot was surely a really well protected city, but he was prepared to fight his way out if anything bad happened. After checking everything at least two times, he went down the stairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling his nostrils.
After taking a cup and some black bread with butter and jam, he sat down at the counter and, starting to eat his breakfast, asked to Barrel:

"So, what's the job?"

"On the simple part, it's like babysitting. On the difficult part, the one ya'll be babysitting isn't a baby. Basically, a noble family recently arrived from Prance is searching for a guardian and a guide for the city. I think they sent a butler or something like that to put fliers in every places a fighter could go to. Gyms, taverns, barracks… ya name it! And, as written here, ya'll need to be always near the family, and especially their daughter, which is probably kind of a big shot, if they require such level of protection. Ya'll have room and board inside their mansion, ya'll have of course bits for payment, and ya can leave whenever ya want. So, what do ya say?"

Petal thought for a while about it: on a hand, it sure was a simple and normal job, well paid and so on, on the other hand, he didn't really like Prench people. Too snob for him. But it was so rewarding, and it could definitely give him a breather from the battlefields: he was a sell-sword, for sure, but he could use that sword both to attack and to defend. He took the flier from Barrel and said:

"Well, my friend, I guess I'll take it. See you!"

After taking a sandwich and leaving enough bits to cover both the room and the breakfast, Shrouded soon found himself staring at the glorious buildings in Canterlot. They were as he remembered them, magnificent and shiny, almost blinding when hit by the solar rays. Munching the sandwich, he walked in a fast pace to the address written on the flier, asking a couple people on the streets if he was going in the right direction. It took him quite a bit of walking to arrive, and surely he would've arrived earlier by taking a taxi, but he always liked going by hooves: it made him feel free, with the wind gently caressing his body, the same wind that brought out bittersweet memories from his past.
In front of his eyes there was a huge Prench-style mansion with a wonderfully ornated garden. Near the metal gates there was an old unicorn standing there in a butler attire, which immediately saw the much younger unicorn and asked him if he was here about the job offer made by his employers; Shrouded nodded, and asked if someone already arrived, and the butler answered:

"Indeed, other candidates did arrive, but they all left empty-handed. It seems they lacked something, though I am not sure about what. I'll open the gates in a moment."

After he opened them, Shrouded thanked him and made his way into the path which crossed the garden to arrive at the mansion: the garden was a sight for sore eyes, a myriad of floral compositions and statues that complemented each other harmoniously, as nothing was left to disorder, to avoid disrupting this masterpiece of work. As he walked, more and more he liked the place: as opposed to certain Prench gardens, which blindly showed the opulence of their owners, the family living here made a garden not thinking about showing their richness, though it did show anyway, albeit in a natural way, but thinking about a place were the mind and the heart could completely be at peace. As he would've found out very soon, this wasn't his typical Prench noble family.