//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3: Pureheart 
// Story: Tales from the Second Age of Magic 
// by VeganSpyro97 
//------------------------------//

Appleoosa was not a large town by any means. In fact, most would consider it a frontier town, since it was on the southern edge of the civilized lands under Equestria’s control, and anything further south was either not owned by Equestria, or was purely wild.
As such, it was most often referred to by those who did not live there as: “backwoods” and “podunk”.  	
The inhabitants didn’t like ponies who said those things, for obvious reasons. 
However, being as small as they were, there were certain things that were simply expected to not happen. Chief among those, were visits from royalty. 
Twilight Sparkle stepped off of the train, gazing at the prairie locale around her. She didn’t see the things that others called this place. It wasn’t podunk. It wasn’t backwoods or backwards. It was a place where ponies lived. It was a place where buffalo lived. It was a place where people lived, just like every other town and city in the world. She smiled, thinking of the friend who had gotten her to start using that word instead of the awkward and unwieldy every-creature that had started to be thrown around as more species started to connect with one another. 
Twilight’s ruminations were cut short, however, when the reason she had come to Appleoosa at all arrived, out of breath and panting heavily. 
“Sheriff Silverstar? Are you alright?” She asked, concerned. He wasn’t a young stallion anymore. Running around like that could be hazardous to his health. 
Silverstar panted some more, holding up a hoof as he bowed his head and attempted to catch his breath. 
“Princess. Welcome. To Applaoosa.” Silverstar gasped, straightening up and making sure his vest and hat looked presentable. 
“It’s always a pleasure, Sheriff. Your letter said that you found something that might be of interest to me?” The Princess asked. She’d resisted the effect of her being a Princess for a long time, but constantly correcting ponies was exhausting. Better to just treat them with the same openness and friendliness she wished they would display in return. 
“Well, yes. It’s a...delicate subject. A creature appeared in Appleoosa about a week ago, stealing food, water, among other things, and I thought that you might know what it is, being so….uh, educated, and all.” Silverstar explained. “You might want to come and see it for yourself.”
Twilight cocked her head, letting her mane fall to the left a little. “Is it dangerous?”
The Sheriff gulped. “Uh, we aren’t sure…”
Twilight smiled inwardly. She had grown rather fond of a good mystery ever since she had met Rarity. The Fashionista loved mystery novels almost as much as she loved her trashy romances. Stifling a giggle at the thought, Twilight smiled politely. “Well, lead the way then! I’d very much like to see it.”
Silverstar bowed, much to her irritation, before beginning to trot away from the station, limping slightly as he did. He must have pulled something. Twilight frowned as she trotted easily after him. Was it an old hip injury? She couldn’t see any evidence of scarring. Early onset arthritis? She hoped not. Her dad had started complaining about arthritis pains just last year, and was thoroughly annoyed whenever it flared up. 
Twilight followed the Sheriff through town. Having only visited it once or twice- always because of trouble the Apple family was having- Twilight did not know the way very well, something she mitigated by memorizing the route. Having a memory as good as hers was a great thing sometimes….Others….not so much.
Entering the sheriff’s office several minutes later, Twilight’s gaze was instantly drawn to the five blurry photographs that had been pinned up onto a cork board mounted on the wall. 
In all of them, a strange figure was seen taking something. An apple here, a small bottle of water there. A pair of saddlebags disappeared in one picture, then returned in another, strapped to the dark and blurry figure’s waist, awkwardly. 
But what caught Twilight’s eye was it’s upright stance, it’s slim, yet square profile, it’s clawless hands, it’s wild mane, and the blurry red markings that crawled over it’s pale, creamy brown skin. 
The fact that it was wearing armour plates the colour of sand, and was obviously going out of it’s way to not be seen, as it was trying to sneak through the shadows….
“Sheriff…..what exactly is this?” She asked.
“The creature, your highness.” A flash of annoyance. Twilight gritted her teeth behind her lips at the use of the title. “After we realized we were missing supplies, we started setting up timed cameras, in the hopes of catching the beast. It came at the right time, and we managed to get these pictures of it. Me and my deputies haven’t told anypony else yet. They think it’s just a critter….”
“And...what did you do about it?”
“We set simple bear traps for it, but it avoided ‘em easily. Then we tried something a bit more complex.”
“It disarmed them, didn’t it?”
“Yes, your highness.”
Twilight bit her lip, frowning. “I take it you haven’t managed to catch it yet? Is that why you called me?”
Sheriff Silverstar puffed out his chest, proudly. “Actually, highness, we did catch it.”
Twilight jerked back from the cork board, as if stung, and turned to stare at the sheriff. “You caught it? How?”
“Bait. Had some of my boys stage a late night shipment of apples, and had ‘em pretend to leave the door unlocked by accident. We had the apples coated in sleeping drought from our local doctor, so when it came in to sample some…”
Twilight blinked. “That was….that was clever of you. Where is the creature now?”
“In the cells, highness. We removed it’s strange armour and made sure we took away all it’s weapons.”
Twilight nodded. “Take me to it.”
Silverstar nodded, and turned to lead Twilight back out of the office. 
The Princess lingered for a moment, eyes tracing the figure in the photo’s again. She had seen this kind of creature before. Or, at least, something just like it. 
There was no mistaking a human form.


*****************************


Eighteen years ago:

The children were excited. The eight year olds rarely saw the world outside the homestead’s doors, so today was a special day. The class was full of chattering youngsters and an anxious teacher who wished today had not been an expedition day. 
Of all the children, Rubrum Pura’Cordis was the most excited. His father was going on the expedition today, which meant that in a week’s time, when he returned, he’d have all kinds of exciting stories to tell Rubrum. 
Maybe they’d fight sand-worms? Or discover a lost artifact? Maybe they’d see some of…..them. The hooved ones. 
Rubrum grinned. Of all the tales he heard, the ones pertaining to the hooved creatures outside intrigued him most. The Elders always forbade anyone from approaching them, or even talking about them. They claimed the hooved ones were evil, responsible for the fall of their ancestors from grace. 
Rubrum wasn’t convinced. Everything he heard about the hooved ones from his father seemed to go against everything the Elders believed. Evil creatures didn’t care for injured animals, or dance to their music around campfires. 
The desert beyond the homestead’s doors was the perfect barrier that stopped the hooved ones from coming close to their home in the caves. 
The Architects, for that was the name that they had chosen for themselves, many, many years ago, referred to this place only as “Homestead”, and ignored the names given to it by the old maps they had found in an abandoned camp twelve years ago. Who called a bunch of caves “The Caves of Conundrum” anyway? The analysts who had managed to learn the hooved ones written language had included the translated maps in the children’s textbooks, citing the need to “know the enemy” and how they thought. It all sounded dumb to Rubrum.
As the bells sounded, signalling the start of the expedition, the children all rushed out of the classroom. 
They were all short, and skinny, from lack of nutrition, and had pale skin. Their birth markings were all different colours, and their hair ranged from pale, sandy yellow, to deep, near black. Rubrum tended toward the latter, with pale skin, red markings, and dark brown hair. His father had similar features, though his markings were much lighter, resembling orange or even yellow more than red. 
No one could explain the markings. The historians tried, but much of the Architect’s history was just….not there. Like someone had misplaced it, or something. All anyone knew was that they all had them, and they all looked different. 
Rubrum brushed his hair out of his eyes and over his ears with one hand as he ran with the other children to the homestead doors, to wave goodbye to the soldiers, and researchers who would be going away. The huge room that housed the opening for the Homestead was normally filled with market stalls, but today, it was clear of all of that. The stalls were stored away, and the room was instead filled with people, lined up on either side of the walkway that lead to the huge doors. 
The metal walls and doors were pitted and rusted after all these years, but they still kept the Architects safe. The machines still worked too, though they were almost never in use. They used energy, and apparently, the hooved ones could sense energy. Better to stay hidden, the Elders always said. 
The expedition party emerged from the back of the room, and Rubrum darted through the crowd, managing to steal a great spot at the front of the crowd, in order to see his dad. 
Auran’Tico Cordis spotted his son on the edge of the walkway and smiled back at him, giving him a cheeky salute and a wave, even as he lead the procession. Auran was wearing the best armour of all the guards, thick and sturdy, which announced his position as expedition leader. Sitting around his neck was a necklace, given to him by his father, and passed down from generation to generation to each successors eldest son. It was a little replica of a Desert Lion, one of the multitudes of giant insects that the Architects depended upon for food, for the chitin used to make their armour, and even the pleasant company that tamed ones could provide. Rubrum’s Uncle Viridi was with Auran, and also gave a wave, not to anyone in particular, but to the crowd in general. He was dressed almost as well, being Auran’s second in command. The Cordis family had held important guurd positions in homestead for generations.
Rubrum yelled goodbye to both his father and uncle as loud as he could, earning him a chuckle and bright eyed smile from everyone around him, including his father and uncle. 
The massive doors began to grind as they slid away, revealing the dark, beige world of the caves beyond their walls inch by inch. It amazed Rubrum every time. 
The procession started through the doors, which did not stay open a moment longer than necessary. Rubrum smiled, cheered and waved to his father and uncle until the moment the doors sealed shut again, with a mighty hiss of hydraulics, and a quiet, low sounding boom. 
The adults drifted away, leaving the children to excitedly chatter about the outside world as the last moments of the day arrived. 
Then it was time to go back to their homes.
Rubrum took one last look at the door, before he ran off back to his mother, and his bed. 


****************************************************


No one was celebrating when the expedition returned a week later.There were no happy faces among the crowd. 
Half the expedition was missing. Of the twenty men and women who had left, only eight returned. They bore wounds, none of them from the dreaded hooved ones, but from Sand Worms. Big ones. Or, rather, one massive one. Whole limbs were missing on two of the survivors, who were carried on litters by the others. 
Rubrum ran through the crowds, hoping that he hadn’t imagined what he had seen. Hoping that there was actually a ninth survivor. 
He searched for ages as the survivors were rushed about the corridors of Homestead, taken to the healers rooms. They stayed in there for hours, and Rubrum was left, unable to contemplate the thing he had seen. It couldn’t be…..he couldn’t be….could he?
More hours rolled by, and Rubrum was forced to go home. He did not sleep at all.
The next day, five of the survivors came out of the healers rooms, bandaged, bruised, and oh so quiet.
Uncle Viridi was among them, his face haggard, and his expression withdrawn. He didn’t speak to anyone, even as he marched across to his nephew, and handed him a small carving of a Desert Lion, hanging on a thin band of leather. 
No one spoke a word as the tears started to flow down Viridi’s eyes. Rubrum stared at the little figure in his hand. He still could not speak. He didn’t speak again for a long time. 


****************************************************


3 weeks ago:

He stumbled in in the sand as he ran, not caring about where he was going at first. He just had to get away. Far away. The caves were far behind him now. If he looked, he could still just see the dark impression of the rocky hills they were hidden in somewhere on the horizon. 
His armour clicked and clacked as he ran, feet slipping into the sand and sending much of it careening down the side of the dune he was just reaching the top of. 
After what they had done, he could not forgive them. It had been the last straw. 
He stumbled again, sand getting into his boots and into his toes. He ignored it and pressed on. No point in staying here. They had banished him, after all. Perhaps they would try to send people after him? No, they were too scared of the outside world for that. Cowards. 
Crimson was the name he had chosen. Rubrum was gone. An angry and scared little boy who had raged against the world when no one cared to listen. Crimson had found a way to move on. Crimson had found friends. Crimson had fought to protect them. Crimson had been banished for it. 
He could still feel that horrid, limp weight in his arms. Still feel the warm blood in on his skin. 
He marched on, not noticing when night fell, or when the desert lions moved around him, too frightened of him to try attacking him. 
He marched past a feasting Sand Worm. He did not care that it had been eating something that may have been intelligent. It wasn’t focused on him. 
The night dragged on for hours, agonizing, endless hours. 
He made camp where and when he could, finding tall rocks to construct his tent on, in order to avoid getting buried by the ever shifting sands. 
He headed north, or as far north as he could. He knew that the Elders had forbade going south for a good reason. But he knew that north was where he might find a place. A better place than here, for certain. 
He staggered along the edge of the desert, hoping to find what his friends had told him about. A track. Strips of metal laid atop planks of wood. He searched for days. His pack was much lighter now, and his water was running low. He needed supplies. 
Follow the track, they had said. So when he found it, that was exactly what he did. The heat baked him inside his armour, but he knew that taking off the protective layers of chitin would not relieve his pain. It would only make it worse. He would be burned.
The necklace his uncle had given to him all those years ago dug into his neck, like a heavy chain, and his eyes were blurry and unfocused by the time he fell to the ground, exhausted. 
He was happy to know he wasn’t dead when he woke up that night. He ate what little food he still had and pressed on, his legs weak and unsteady. By now, he was walking along a very long stretch of track that meandered along the base of a huge cliff, and the air was thick with water, covering him in a thin layer of the stuff. 
There were strange, tall trees all around him now, with some having long, flower covered vines that draped over their thicker, heavy branches like the old carpets that his living Unit had once had. He was able to use one to catch water and refill his canteen a little, and his foray into the vast green rewarded him with a collection of fruits. He recognized them from his own expeditions over the last two years. That, and his friends had told him about them, showing him pictures and drawings of the ones that were safe to eat. 
He made great use of the knowledge, and filled his belly as best he could. 
He continued on, resting where he could, and enjoying every moment of the rainstorm that rolled overhead one night. Rainstorms were rare above the caves. 
The place he finally emerged onto was a kind of environment he was vaguely familiar with. A flat, sturdy plain, covered in coarse scrubs, small cacti, and brambles at large intervals. 
He continued to follow the tracks, gladdened that none of the machines that used them had been by when he had been walking on or next to them. His mind kept showing him images of the day before his departure. The day his father had died. The day he was almost killed. The day he killed the Sand Worm. Images of the hooved ones flittered in and out of his vision, and he kept hearing voices. Those fruits may have not been all that safe…..or maybe he had mistaken a bad one for an good one?
When he saw the town for the first time, he stopped. It looked like an image, but….It wasn’t. No matter how long he stared, it did not disappear.…..It was real…... It was real! He could go there! Find people! Get help! He could….he could…...
Maybe….maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He remembered the reaction his friends had had at their first meeting. It hadn’t been all that pleasant. And what had happened in Homestead could easily make them hate his people. Hate him. 
No. They’d kill him. They’d kill him for sure. He had to stay hidden. Hidden. Hide. Safe. He’d stay safe…..his thoughts started to blur, and a foul taste filled his mouth. He couldn’t think straight. 
More images. More voices. He couldn’t concentrate. He picked up a piece of fruite and bit into the juicy thing….and felt tired. Lethargic. He slumped over. Then all he knew was darkness.


*************************************************


Present Day:

Twilight stared down at the creature in the cell. It was lying on its side, vomit pooling on the ground. It had been wild, delirious, mumbling in Ponish and some language she did not know. It looked ill. Its skin was chafed in places, and it’s skin was much paler than even in the photographs. 
It’s belongings were laid out on a table behind her, and she was most impressed by the skill of the armour’s maker. It was hollowed out chitin from a giant insect that she had never seen before. The mask was creepy, with two large pincer like structures hanging down from the face plate, and several thick antenna carved out of the top. There were no eyes, but the mask had cleverly concealed eye slits that allowed the wearer to see out of. 
The creature was covered in red markings, and had pointed ears. It was muscular, but also thin, and was tall. Very tall. It’s eyes, when she had used magic to gently open them, were a deep burgundy colour. Unusual for a humanoid. 
Yes, it looked human. She had enough experience with humans to know the differences, though. 
Humans had rounded ears, for one thing. They also didn’t have naturally patterned skin pigments. 
They also couldn’t survive in a magic rich environment. 
This was not a human. 
A noise behind her alerted her to the creature’s awakening. 
It was panting heavily, and it’s eyes were darting around the room wildly, beneath it’s pale, near white hair. It was frightened. 
“Hello.” She offered a polite greeting. “My name is Twilight Sparkle. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”
The creature regarded her with wide eyes. 
“Do you understand me? I’m not going to hurt you.”
The creature’s breathing started to slow, and it spoke in a deep tenor. “Twilight…..Sparkle?”
“Yes, that’s my name. What’s yours?” Twilight asked, trying to encourage him. 
The creature was silent for a while, and seemed almost afraid of telling her. “C-Crimson.”
“Your name is Crimson?”
“Pureheart.” The creature said, quietly. “My name is Crimson Pureheart.”


**********************************************


“Are you sure, Princess?” Silverstar asked, as Twilight prepared to leave. “It still doesn’t seem safe to me.” 
Twilight smiled, straining to keep up her facade of non-irritation as best she could. “Yes, Sheriff. I’ll take him with me to Ponyville, and he’ll work off his debt under my supervision. He’ll work at Sweet Apple Acres and recover from his illness. It will also give me the time to study him more fully. He won’t be able to hurt me, and I can keep him from hurting anyone else if he tries anything. I promise I’ll be safe.”
Silverstar nodded, though his expression was still not wholly convinced. “Well, the best of luck then, Princess. And thanks again.”
“No, thank you sheriff! It was a pleasure seeing you again.” Twilight returned, before boarding the private train car. 
Crimson sat, uncertain and quiet, in one corner of the car, while Twilight took up a seat in the middle of the car, already having produced a quill and a piece of parchment, and started to write. 
“Dear Princess Celestia….”