//------------------------------// // 8. Who? // Story: The Paladins of Light-Prologue // by Cobalt Bristle //------------------------------// Kirlieth and Crion were in a bit of trouble. Well, a bit might be sugarcoating it a bit. Since Crion is about as stealthy as a cart with squeaky toys for wheels, they were promptly found and detained by the barely competent Canterlot Royal Guard. It would’ve probably been less embarrassing if they were caught by Luna’s guard, but they weren’t. “Remind me again why we decided it was a good idea to break out of a hospital?” Crion asked Kirileth with an annoyed expression. “You’re the one that didn’t want to stay in a hospital bed. Next time, remind me to leave you behind. Why are we even being arrested again?” Kirileth inquired, turning to the guard that was escorting her. The guard fumbled with a notepad before finally pulling it out and flipping a few pages. “Uh, let’s see here. Reckless endangerment and damage of government property,” the guard forced out, stumbling with the words as he said them. Crion and Kirileth shared a look of confusion and glanced at the guard’s armor. There were no discerning marks, as far as they could tell, but he was undoubtedly a new recruit. They made no effort to escape, but they were thoroughly annoyed by the time they were halfway to Twilight’s castle. * * * Sandrick dusted himself off, groaning a bit at the fourth trap he’d fallen in on the way up. Grolof was in a rare bout of laughter, sharing in Val’s mirth. They were nearly at the top, with the three of them shouldering the burden of the weapons that Grolof made. Val was clasping the spear he had been made, using it to steady himself as the trio cleared the stairs and went up into his rather expansive hut. “Well, it’s been one of your more… productive visits Val. Do me a favor and tell the others about it, will ya?” Grolof requested while chuckling, getting a bit more under control. Val and Sandrick walked out of the hut and started their rather expansive walk back to Ponyville. Sandrick was limping, his left hind leg dragging. Val noticed it but decided against saying anything about it. It was a few hours into their journey back and nothing eventful had happened. They decided to take a small break before continuing onwards. Val mentioned Sandrick’s limp to him, but the commander insisted he was fine. As dusk was breaking, a pegasus fell, seemingly from nowhere. They rushed as quickly as they could over to it, Sandrick trailing a bit. The bronze coated, charcoal maned stallion was unconscious, for now. “Where did he come from?” Sandrick thought aloud. “I’m wondering the same thing. There were no pegasi a few seconds ago,” Val observed, curiously trotting over to the pegasus. Val’s hoof traced the intricate golden armor that the pegasus wore, looking for any identifying marks. Not finding any, he moved on to his back, where a mace was strapped. Without warning, the pegasus jumped up and drew the mace, which shone brilliantly. His yellow eyes blazed before he spoke, throwing an aura of power behind his voice. “Hold!” The pegasus commanded, holding the mace intimidatingly with his front right hoof. * * * Pyto was humming to himself as he stirred the cauldron. He set the wooden spoon down and put the cast iron lid over the cauldron. The temple was dark, lit by a few candles dotting the kitchen. The door that Visarn had left from not too long ago burst open, surprising the chef. As quickly as he could manage, Pyto scrambled to grab the dagger hidden under the counter. “Calm yourself, Pyto. We need to talk,” the new arrival called out, causing Pyto to set the dagger down. “You need to stop doing that. You know that you can’t be here,” Pyto warned, rushing to the black cloaked figure. “I know, but I need to get a message to Visarn, now,” the figure countered, fidgeting a little. “He’s out for a bit. He should be back soon,” Pyto explained, causing the figure to lash out. “What? No. He must be here. If not…” the figure trailed off, getting Pyto to scoff a bit. “Look, I’ve put up with you and your prophecies for far too long. You were exiled because of it. Leave, before the rest discover you’re here,” Pyto suggested. “No, you do not understand! What Visarn thinks is a simple job will cause the Planes to be rifted apart!” The figure threw a wax sealed scroll at the ground in front of Pyto. Pyto picked up the scroll and inspected it closely. He brought one of the candles over so he could better see it. When he saw the seal, his eyes widened. “Rilu. He’s… back?” Pyto asked with a solemn tone. “Yes, even though Visarn took the news as a joke. Rilu is planning to attack Hournar Temple. He has been since the first Paladins disbanded after the first war against him. I care not if you believe Rilu wrote that. He did. I do not have much time to commune. I need to prepare my own defenses,” the figure finished, turning to leave. “Wait! You don’t have anything else? No suggestions, no plans, nothing?” Pyto desperately asked, reaching out towards him. “No. You must deal with this on your own. Light guide you,” the figure finished, walking out of the temple door and closing it quietly. Pyto sighed and strolled back to the counter where he set his wooden spoon down. Pulling another candle over and setting it next to the first to do so, he ripped open the wax seal on the scroll, revealing what was written. Pyto read the words written in black ink. Residents of Temple Hournar, I, Rilu Dark-Bringer, chief commander of the shades, happily inform you that you are the last stronghold of the former Paladins. While your allies persevered during their destruction, Riyara and Kirldan are no more. They fall under my domain now, and the other Planes will follow. Please do try and stop me, it always makes it so much fun. Even my pathetic son finds entertainment in it. -Rilu Dark-Bringer As Pyto finished the small but very meaningful letter informing him of his imminent defeat, he was tempted to get the other resident of the temple to come down and read. Knowing them the way he did, he decided against it. They were a bit touchy about Rilu since the last war and telling them he was back would end up with his head leaving his body. “I am sorry, but I cannot stay here and get slaughtered. You fools are gluttons who haven’t fought in years. I will exit to the only place I know will be safe” Pyto whispered aloud. The chef took off his hat and set it on the bar. He took his white coat off and carelessly tossed it aside, revealing a covering of leather armor underneath. The dagger that he had stumbled with earlier found its way into an intricate sheath, a central engraving of a crux its main feature. The sheath was slipped onto a cloth belt which then went around Pyto’s waist. The former chef then opened the door for one last time, spitting at the marble ground before shutting the door and taking off at a full sprint. * * * A thump sounded across the quiet dusk landscape as Visarn landed, his armor having perfectly fitted around his pony body. The mace that he had been given was laid horizontally across his back. Strangely enough, he heard voices and the clanking of weapons. Deciding it was best to stay still and wait to see what would happen, he limited his breathing to make it appear as if he was unconscious. He could not see them, but he determined there were at least 2 of them. He missed what they were saying, but he did not miss the actions. A hoof traced his armor and went to investigate his mace. Deciding that he had had enough of being treated like a science project, Visarn jump up and drew his mace, startling the one that had been investigating him. “Hold!” Visarn commanded, holding the mace intimidatingly with his front right hoof. “Whoa!” Val yelped out, jumping back and drawing his newly crafted spear. Sandrick also pulled out his new weapon, albeit a lot less gracefully. They examined each other for a while, Visarn being the one to break the silence that was hanging in the air. “Valiant Defender, Sandrick Fiercestorm. Dishonored guard and commander, respectively,” Visarn spoke aloud, getting the duo’s attention. “How do you know who we are?” Val demanded, moving closer to Visarn, holding his spear in a defensive manner. “Good, good. I found you, perhaps a bit earlier than I intended. I was sent to help you,” Visarn cheaply explained, getting a scoff from Val. “Sure. Next, you’re gonna tell me you’re some kind of hero who has nothing but good intentions,” Val spat out. “In a way, yes,” Visarn replied, holding the mace in a less aggressive manner in an attempt to quell Val’s growing anger. “Hah! I’ve heard it all before. Next thing I know, boom. Attacked and left for dead. Been there, done that. Now leave, before I have to employ force,” Val warned. “You cannot take me, guard. You failed your one job and failed the only reason you left,” Visarn sternly retorted. “Why you…!” Val shouted, before charging Visarn. Visarn smiled at Val’s attack and simply dashed aside when he stabbed downwards, burying the spear in the dirt. Seeing that things were not going well, Sandrick stepped forward and tried to pull Val back. “C’mon, we don’t have time for this. We need to get back,” Sanrick reminded Val, but it was for nothing as Val shoved Sandrick off of him and continued missing all of his attacks on Visarn. Sandrick had had enough. He was ignored, confused, and half angry. Letting out a rare show of anger, Sanricks hooves erupted in a bright light yellow light that engulfed both Val and Visarn. “Stop! Now!” Sandrick shouted, his voice booming. The first show of the night sky was interrupted to the trio as the light that Sandrick cast lit up the surrounding area. “By Luna! Sandrick, what are you doing?” Val yelled out, struggling to break free of the bonds that Sandrick had imposed upon him. “I am preventing you from adding murder to your admittedly small list of crimes. Even if he is fake, we can at least kill him later. Right now, it is a good chance to hear him out before trying to kill him,” Sandrick offered. “Fine, just let me out,” Val grudgingly admitted. Sandrick obliged, retracting the light that he had thrust out. “So, who did you say you were again?” Val asked, anger seeping through into his voice. “Visarn Stone-Heart,” Visarn repeated, adding his title this time. “Yeah, I have no idea what that means,” Val admitted, causing Sandrick to facehoof.