- 10 years before Nightmare Moon’s Return -
The air was a stiff mixture of salt and wind, with the sound of creaking boards and sloshing water along the hull. Even in the dead of night, the waters of the Celestial Sea churned with the same vigor one would expect the ocean border to have, as if knowingly protecting Equestria. Light was scarce along the deck, save for a single glittering lantern carried by a night crew pony. Though the vessel rocked, back and forth, the crew pony swayed against the motion with practiced form, bobbing left and right to help maintain both balance and lamplight. With another step came a yawn, quickly stifled before humming a slow tune to himself.
From the stern of the ship came another light, wobbling with as much grace as the first, making its way down the stairs to the main deck. The first watchpony paid it no mind and continued his song.
“~... are all in the pawn, to be rollikin’ randy dandy-o. Heave-~”
“Anchor, please, tell me you know at least one other song than that,” the second light interrupted, brushing his ginger mane against the wind.
“No need knowing another if you like the one you know,” said Anchor. “Besides, Clay, you can’t carry a tune any better than you can hoist sail.”
“Maybe not with my voice, but you know full well the music I can create with the right… instrument.”
“Shore leave on the Griffish Isles doesn’t count, you crazy horndog,” Anchor huffed. Clay gave a sharp, staccato laugh that almost brought a grin to Anchor’s face.
“The gryphons love me, Anchor, and they’d love you too if you weren’t so… so… ugh, what’s the word?”
“Stick-up-your-flank-ish?”
“Yeah! That’s it.”
The grin finally came to Weigh Anchor’s face, his low rumble of a chuckle almost unheard against the strong ocean wind. From a distance, the two saw a bolt of lightning pierce the sky down into the water, it’s glow reflecting off the waves for a brief instant. With that, the two went silent. A knot settled in Clay’s stomach, and from the look of Anchor’s grumpier-than-usual face he wasn’t the only one. The creaking of the wood became louder.
“You think he made it?” Clay asked, trying to suppress the growing quiver in his voice. “I mean, there were so many of us at port. He couldn’t have… ya know?”
“No.” Anchor stated. “No, and if he did we’re miles out to sea. Unless he sprouts fins and gills he’s not getting us.”
“I know, I know, but still. Captain Wall’s still awake, pacing around like he does, and mumbling over and over about how close we were to getting caught back at Horseshoe Bay. We’ve got a lot of gold underneath us, Anchor, and I’m starting to wonder if it’s…”
Anchor turned an eye to Clay’s silence, hiding the grinding of his teeth behind firm lips.
“If it’s what?” Anchor asked with a hushed voice, hidden by the winds.
“Well… I got a look at the manifest. That newbie, Cake, left it in the mess.” Clay’s limbs were twitching now, the tension in his gut spreading. “It says we’re supposed be guarding merchant stock, ya know? Traders doing business in Griffonstone, they ask the Crown for protection, Captain deploys a few of us, usual stuff, right?”
Anchor retained his firm gaze, trying to keep his patience.
“But, the Captain’s here, and you, me, and twice the usual deployment spent hours hauling crates of gold double-time, right? Then, out of nowhere, the Gh-... he shows up, whallops us, and now we’re on the run in a bucket full of more bits and gold than Las Pegasus. I mean, Weigh, we’re not even going the right direction. Griffonstone is that way!”
Clay threw his foreleg over the port side of the ship, the opposite way of the storm, and looks to Anchor again, his brow furled almost to the point of closing his eyes. The silence sets in again, broken only by wind and an omnipresent creaking.
“Clay,” Anchor whispered, words as tense as taught rope. “Do you… think, hypothetically, that Captain Wall is maybe, maybe, hiding something from us?”
Clay raised a foreleg, illuminated by another bolt of lightning, and shakily wiped the sea water from his face.
“This tub’s going to the Dragon Lands, Anchor, not Griffonstone. You ask me,” Clay took a breath, tasting the salt on the wind. “Captain’s gone AWOL.”
Clay’s words hit Anchor in a way he hadn’t expected. He was an EUP Guard, they were all guards, serving under Captain Wall for months. But he was still a grunt and, like Clay, he knew at the end of the day the grunts, and the grunts alone, looked out for each other.
“We say nothing.”
“What!?” Clay spouted, much louder than intended. “There are over a dozen of us below deck heading to a literal fire pit, with a mountain of probably stolen gold, and you want to do nothing?”
“We’re in the middle of the ocean, Clay. If we’re so bucked to, we’ll report it when we return home.”
“Oh, you can not be serious!”
Under the cover of coming rain and the two guards’ bickering, a third figure lurked from above. Every step he took caused the wood to squeal and groan, but slowly he made his way above the two watch ponies. On his back, billowing in the wind, the sleek black cloak grew taught as a corner coiled around the mast, aiding in his descent.
“You and I get thrown in the brig if we talk now, at least at home we’re held for questioning.”
“Yeah, whoever’s left! Cake is just a private, Weigh, if he ends up burnt alive who’s gonna tell his folks, huh? You?”
“You don’t know that we’re going to t-”
“There’s nowhere else to go!” Clay turned to the dim light emanating from the Captain’s cabin. “Now I’m going in there and demanding to know the full mission, whether you like it or not. Are you coming?”
A sharp breath from Anchor was all Clay heard before he whipped his head around, only to find his friend missing. Clay stumbled in place, thrusting the lamp forward in his forehoof. He scanned the deck, shaking as he lead the flame around the mast. A clank echoed in the air as something, the second lamp, came down on Clay’s head, bringing him to his haunches. When the pain dulled, Clay looked up in horror to see Anchor tangled up in the sail’s tether, and something else. The lamplight danced across the flowing form of Anchor’s attacker, suspended by what Clay could only describe as an umbral tendril. Clay summoned the strength to yell, but before the air even entered his lungs the assailant’s shadowy form enveloped him.
The figure stood over Clay, fainted on the deck beneath him, and reached out a hoof to Clay’s neck.
“Still alive, good,” the figure hummed. “I am sorry, lad.”
The shrouded pony rose, ebon cloak drawing to him, and strode across the deck to the cabin. The ocean wind did much to hide the cloaked pony’s labored breathing. Beneath his dark suit, he could feel a sharp pain and the damp of his own blood, his mind returning to the battle at the docks. He had engaged many ponies before: criminals, slavers, would-be conquerors, but the ponies at the dock were Equestria’s finest. A final, deep breath gave him the strength to reach the door, only slightly surprised to find it unlocked.
He mulled over his options. The front door was never his style, preferring skulking to a grand entrance. Climbing to the back windows was out of the question, especially in his sorry state. Taking a quick look at the door and handle, confident there were no runes or traps, he slid in through the gap.
The room inside was the product of a terrible whirlwind. Tables cracked and tossed aside, chairs and drawers smashed, specks of glassware lodged in the wall where they impacted. It was a sight that would make the Master of Chaos crack a smile. Even among the wreckage, the dark intruder searched and found no sign of the cabin’s supposed occupant. Until, from behind, the faint chime of a unicorn’s magic was heard. The intruder whipped around to come face to face with Captain Wall: a sturdy, brown toned unicorn of stature, his blonde mane held back in an eponymous ponytail. Eyes of liquid gold pierced the intruder’s gaze, as if to hold him in place.
“Forgive me,” the Captain said, feigning manners. “Had I known to expect visitors, I might’ve tidied up a bit.”
“No worries, Shield Wall, I find it rather suiting.” The figure took hold of his cloak. “Like an artist’s rendition of the shattered logic you call your conscience.”
“Ah, the old barbs, I’m ashamed to say I missed them. But, no, old friend, this is all quite deliberate.”
“Oh, for sure, like our bout in that Appleloosan tavern after you failed to convince the sheriff to force out the buffalo tribes. Quite clever to obstruct the floors with hard cider. It made for quite the illuminating engagement.”
“Why, thank you.” Shield Wall's eyes, almost unblinking, remained on their target. “Though I was always fond of our little duel in the Arimaspi caverns. The asymmetry made it quite the challenge.”
“Ah, the Sapphire Eye of the Arimaspi,” the figure chuckled. “One of our more song-worthy encounters.”
“I almost had you.”
“Almost.”
Silence fell over the two. The rain outside was muffled by the cabin walls and the intense focus its occupants. When Shield shifted to one side, and the cloaked figure did the same. It was obvious to both of them they knew each other's moves, which left only one for the cloaked pony to play.
“You are right, Shield, though I loathe to admit it. Equestrian nobility has ignored the signs, and something must be done.”
“So,” Shield Wall spoke slowly, tense and squinting in suspicion. “Has the proud and true Ghost of the Bridle Shores truly seen the light? Or is this a trap? Another trick from and old, withering bug to try and throw me off guard?”
“No tricks, Shield, not anymore. Just a chance to end this ceaseless struggle of ours.” The Ghost stood to his full height before speaking again. “So many times you have tried to leverage some amount of power for yourself, ignoring the cost of others. It has been five years since you first sent assassins against the Crown, five years spent plotting and toiling away when you’ve been missing the solution all along.”
“Which is?”
“Talk to them. Help them see reason. They would never have to know what you have done, and we could show them how to prepare for Nightmare Moon’s return. Celestia herself would-”
The Ghost’s words were cut off by Shield Wall’s tittering, slowly growing from a restrained chuckle into a loud, baleful laugh that all but shook the cabin with its fervor. When Shield returned to his senses his eyes were sharp, like a predator’s, his mouth twisted between a smile and scowl.
“You mean to solve the fate of Equestria, of ponykind, of Day itself, with a little talking? Ignoring the miscreants and… lesser species, you would subject me to bureaucracy?”
“If it means saving lives-”
“It is not about saving lives, it’s about saving the world!”
“And how, exactly, does that involve bribing the dragons into attacking Equestria? Is war supposed to be our salvation?”
“Fear!” Shield Wall snapped. “Fear is what will save them, finally forced to stop pittering about with rainbows and festivals and make the hard choices. And once they are afraid, they will do anything, follow anypony to escape it, and they will follow me!”
A pulse of Shield’s yellow magic came with his final words, scattering debris further along the floor. Dust settled around the Ghost, who looked back to his rival.
“This is the difference between us, Captain, you care nothing for life.”
“No,” Shield Wall stated, venom in his voice. “The difference between us is you come into battle wounded.”
With a flash of yellow energy, a broken chair leg collided with the Ghost’s side wound, bringing him to his knees. Shield prepares to lunge forward, ready to skewer the Ghost with his horn. Before his hooves even leave the ground, the Ghost snaps his cloak out to the side, grabbing the broken table and flinging it toward Shield Wall with almost inequine strength. The force of the blow knocked Shield from his hooves, sending him hurtling through the cabin doors and out onto the ship’s deck, now flush with rainwater.
Shield recovers, by instinct, and prepares a spell. As the Ghost lunges for his target the magic is released in a loud bang that sends the Ghost hurtling upwards into the sails. The Captain, with little time, sets his sights on the ship’s bell and pulls frantically, desperately trying to rouse the crew and other guards from their sleep. A measure of relief washes over him when the voices of his underlings reach his ears. Lightning crashes upon the waves. A second bolt illuminates the night, giving Shield a glimpse of what hid in the stormy darkness. The Ghost, cloak spread like leather wings, gliding through the rain on a collision course. As if in tune with the thunder, the two foes collide.
The flurry of hooves and magic rouses Clay. A moment passes before his vision returns, but upon standing he witnesses the battle before him, his Captain barely holding his own against the cloaked assailant. In a panic, Clay rushes to the ship’s bell, tripping over the discarded lantern and wedging it into the ship’s grating.
The two combatants pay no mind to this, absorbed wholly in their struggle. But, from the starboard side, the glowing image of a mountain of fire radiates in the night. The Dragon Lands were upon them. The momentary distraction earned the Ghost a solid jab to the jaw, knocking him backwards over the grate. Shield, all but frothing at the mouth in rage, clambered over his enemy.
“Is this what you wanted, Ghost?!” Shield cried, throwing another hoof into his opponent’s face. “A petty hoof fight instead of saving the world? Why couldn’t you just die like a good little bug and save me the trouble?!”
Before Shield could unleash a magic building along his horn, a hoof collided with his throat, gagging him, while a second twisted his horn away. The blast fired, spraying through the grate and colliding with the lodged lamp, bursting into flames, spreading the burning oil across the deck and into the lower level.
The Ghost made his move. Flinging his cape out toward the mast, it wrapped around the wood column and pulled himself from Shield’s grasp. From here he could see the damage: fire spreading, half-dressed soldiers frantically charging the lifeboats, the erupting Dragon Lands in full view.
The Ghost,convinced his gagging foe was incapacitated, took to helping the crew and guard escape the flaming vessel. Steel blades shot forth and sliced the tethers. With a whip of his hoof, the fabric of his cloak reached to Weigh Anchor and pulled him to safety. Several guards stood puzzled. The Ghost, however, wasted no time in securing supplies and helping ponies onto the rafts, before the entire deck shook with a blast from within the hull. The resulting fire cut the Ghost off from the others.
“The powder stores are hit,” came the cries of the crew. “Sweet Celestia, abandon ship!”
Two guards helped Shield Wall to his hooves as he peered across the ship. The deck was ablaze. A wall of flame separated the Ghost and himself, the firelight revealing a wrinkled face and a wry smile, hidden only by the mask and cowl he wore. Every fiber in Shield’s body trembled with fury. Though his guards desperately pleaded and pulled their Captain away, it was not without struggle as Shield Wall hollered fierce admonishments along the wind.
But the Ghost simply smiled. He waited until the rafts were away, their lamplight fading into the storm. Now alone and surrounded by flame, the Ghost rushed to the helm with all the strength he could muster. The wheel of the ship spun with abandon and even the Ghost’s impressive strength wasn’t enough. In the distance, through the flashes of lightning, the Ghost saw a small island, remote enough to hide the vessel and all its secrets.
The Ghost huffed, summoning his strength, before throwing himself into the wheel again. It turned and aligned with his course. The flame climbed higher, threatening to envelope the Ghost along with the ship. He thrust again, this time throwing his cloak out to the railing, coiling and pulling both he and the wheel. The wound was now flush with blood, brought on by the strain of his labor. With a yell, louder than the storm itself, the Ghost wrapped the other end of his cloak on the wheel.
In this desperate pose he stood. The remote landmass neared and, in this moment, the Ghost took a final look out over the railing before the sound of bursting wood mixed with rolling thunder.