//------------------------------//
// Chapter 21: The Arena 
// Story: The Life of Penumbra Heartbreak 
// by Unwhole Hole 
//------------------------------//

Metal clashed against metal as a sword sliced through the tip of a spear and a thrall-mask was knocked to the dusty arena floor. The pony who had been wearing it, not deprived her freedom from pain, screamed and crawled away from the whirring melee before her. 
Penumbra stared in rapt attention as the remainder of the thrall forces regrouped. There were at least thirty of them, armed with full armor and spears. They advanced without hesitation- -and so did the Blue Knight.
The Knight jumped into the battle, deflecting their spears and blows with a blast of amber magic as his sword cleaved downward, separating masks from ponies. Following closely behind him was one of his mutant warriors, and based on his scars the eldest of them. 
Their styles differed like night and day: the Blue Knight moved in a manner representative of strength and power, every move formalized and exact, or at least appearing so. He used his magic as well and as often as he used his blade, often to spectacular effect. The griffon, meanwhile- -a thing called a vedmak, Penumbra understood- -was the opposite; his motion was fluid and organic, whirring in a storm of beautiful improvisation. He turned and tilted on his supple wings, and his blade flashed silver in the light of the overcast sky.
And yet, as different as they were, their motion merged perfectly into a single unit, a demonstration of the most beautiful art Penumbra had ever seen. It was a dance of violence, and it was clear that the Blue Knight was leading: his griffon-at-arms was only meant to serve as a theatrical foil. 
Penumbra was not the only one watching. The entire arena had been filled, and the crystal ponies stared entranced by silent. Those of other races, though- -the middle class of technicians and officers- -cheered loudly, though, and it was apparent that many had made bets on the outcome. 
And then, almost as soon as it had started it was all over. The griffon and the Blue Knight stood over a pile of weeping and bruised crystal ponies, their masks removed by violent force. The Blue Knight activated the release mechanisms within his helmet and removed it. As he did, he raised his sword high above his head. Part of the crowd cheered loudly, while the crystal ponies, still dazed from the display, clapped quietly. Not even the most well-salted of the more lively in the group dared to boo. 
The Blue Knight turned to where Penumbra sat and raised his sword to her. “I dedicate this victory to you, fair damsel, pride of the Strongest King!”
Penumbra blushed and was glad that her ceremonial armor was heavy enough to hold her wings down. She bowed in return, as was protocol. 
Zither then turned the tip of his sword to where Scarlet Mist, her mane now almost fully white, sat beside Crozea. “And you, fair parasite, have been vanquished by proxy! Indeed, these soldiers of your construction could use a great deal of improvement!”
“Really,” rasped Scarlet Mist. “And do you think you would have done so well if you weren’t using the mutant as a crutch?”
Zither laughed. “Even a knight capable of the greatest deeds is useless entirely if he stands alone. To bear and honor this role is to understand cooperation: as we thirteen are unified against the evil of the Sisters under our glorious king!” 
Penumbra found she agreed. The Knight’s performance had included several displays of independent valor, but the climax of it had been when he was allowed to work with another. Penumbra also had a vague understanding that Zither was attempting to sell Sombra on the idea of his pet mercenaries; Sombra, however, had seemed lukewarm about the entirety of it all. 
“Of course, I would be glad to face any competent swordspony in a duel!” laughed the Blue Knight. He pointed his sword into the stands. “HOLDER! How about you?”
Penumbra looked to her right. A special portion of the arena had been partitioned and stood separate from the others, and it was where Sombra, herself, and the Dark Thirteen sat. Apart from Penumbra’s presence, this resulted in a perfectly symmetrical formation with Sombra in the center and five of the Dark Thirteen on either side. This of course accounted for the three who could by their nature not attend: Eternity Gaze, who watched but whose true body was inherently stationary; the Nameless One, whose location and description were unknown to all; and the being called the Infiltrator, who, as a spy, never attended public events. 
Sombra sat in the center on a throne of darkened stone, and Penumbra sat on what was roughly the equivalent of a mildly soft ottoman. Directly to Sombra’s left- -much to the apparent chagrin of the others- -a flattened, strange figure clad in thick black clothing, feathers, and several ravens that he stroked eagerly. Beside him in turn was Necrophilo of Canterlot, then Emeth, then Zither’s seat, and finally Thirteen. On Sombra’s right- -and, by extension, Penumbra’s right- -sat Twilight Luciferian. He was also interfering with the symmetry, because he had apparently been authorized to bring a mare who Penumbra- -much to her deepest disappointment- -assumed was his wife. She was yellow, thin, and beautiful, save for her eyes, which were empty crimson. She was nude and almost continually pressed against Luciferian, occasionally smiling at Penumbra.
Penumbra, of course, knew her position well enough not to question Lord Twilight’s choices- -but seeing him with a mare who was not her was deeply hurtful, and she began to wonder about his commitment to the words of kindness he had given her. 
Much to Luciferian’s chagrin, he was seated next to Crozea, followed by Scarlet Mist and Buttonhooks the Mad. Beyond him was one final member. 
Zither had addressed the last pony on the right side, who had been given little more than a rickety wooden stool. He was perched quite high on it, apparently terrified of a rather large set-beast curled around the bottom. Penumbra could not recall meeting him; he was a rather quiet looking gray earth-pony with a fluffy dark mane. Still, she was quite aware that he did indeed bear a sheathed sword on his back. 
“M- -me?!” he squeaked, pulling his legs up as the set-beast lifted its head. 
“Be you not a swordspony? Why not face me, for the honor of our king?”
“I- -I would much prefer a different kind of battle, if you would. Perhaps we might match our strengthen in, say, the spoken word, rather than something where somepony might get...cut?”
“Oh please, Holder. I do not wish to meet my end when I am still so young and beautiful.”
Holder smiled, momentarily forgetting the beast below him. “I- -I’m so glad you acknowledge my skill in the subject, I have been practicing!” He produced a scroll from a ragged pocket. “I actually have one here- -”
“Holder, you misunderstand! I fear not your poetry for its strength, but rather the fact that I fully expect to die of boredom should I hear but a single verse!” 
He gestured to the crowd, and they laughed, if only slightly. This is the only day of the year where that was permitted. 
Holder seemed deflated, and put away the scroll. “Oh. Okay. My apologies.” 
The set-beast lifted one of its paws and pushed the stool. Holder squeaked as he wobbled, clinging to the surface in terror. The crowd laughed at him, because unlike even the crystal ponies, he had absolutely no worth. 
The Blue Knight waved to his audience, and then returned to the stands as the steward emerged. 
“A showing of combat prowess, presented by the Blue Knight and his assistant, the vedmak Gambert, their opponent members of the king’s own army, utilizing generation three containment masks.” She lifted one hoof, pointing to Sombra. “Hail the Witchking, for allowing his servants to gift us with this glorious display!”
“Hail the Witchking!” rose a unified call from the crowd- -though mostly from those who were not crystal ponies. 
“Occurring next is a special event, for your viewing pleasure and as a remind of our king’s benevolence. To protect you from polarity and dissent, we bring you the liquidation of heretics.”
Several plates of greenish magic formed a set of stairs, cast by one of her underlings and allowing the steward to be lifted out of the center of the arena. As she departed to the highest of the plates, a set of thralls dragged in a set of emaciated and bruised crystal ponies. The members of the crowd who were crystal ponies turned away, unable to watch, but those who were not booed. They would have thrown food, were it not so exceedingly valuable. Instead they threw crystals. 
“The one given this honor is, I am told, a popular favorite,” continued the steward, gesturing toward a large door with practiced precision, just as it began to open. Two enormous beastmaster earth-ponies stepped out, taking positions on either side of the gate. A certain part of the crowd cheered wildly.
“Presenting: Esther, Hester, and Janet!”
An enormous creature stepped through the gate, and the beastmasters bowed to her. Penumbra might have been afraid of the horror, had she not already witnessed the actions of a live proteus. 
This creature bore three heads. One was that of a great cat, its jaw wide enough to fit an entire pony; the head beside it was that of a goat. Attached to its rear was a tail consisting of a venomous green snake. 
Penumbra knew this creature from books, and understood that it was a chimera. She also knew that it was larger than normal- -and somewhat overweight. 
The heretics cried out at the sight of their doom, and they huddled together. They had taken a place directly in front of their king, and consequently directly in front of Penumbra. She saw that they were shaking, and that some of them were children. They were afraid- -and although Penumbra did not know why, she was afraid too. 
“What a wonderful day!” growled the chimera’s tiger head, staring greedily at the huddled crystal ponies. “And I see they’ve already been tenderized. Excellent!”
“Oh please,” muttered the goat head, rolling her eyes. “I’m tired of skinny heretic. Just bones and crystal. Why even bother?” She looked up at the stands and winked at Zither. “I would much rather have that knight! I want to suck the flesh of his bones...why not come down here to slay me, sir knight?  Show me that massive sword!”
“Shut it, Hester!” grunted the tiger, slapping the goat’s head. “You don’t even eat meat! Your half of the digestive system is for grass and hay ONLY! Or do you want a repeat of last week?”
“Not to mention tin cans,” cackled the the snake head.
“SHUT IT, JANET!” growled both of the frontal heads. 
“Besides,” said the tiger, apparently Esther. “Look a little closer. I think somebody already beat you to the sucking.” 
Zither stood. “Are you done commenting on my physique, or are you going to continue delaying the festivities with your laughable insolence?”
“We are letting them marinade!” snapped Esther. She licked her lips. “They taste sooooo much better when they’re afraid...”
The heretics whimpered and huddled together as the chimera began to circle. Though already somewhat fat, it had begun to drool.
The eldest mare of the heretics produced a tattered pile of paper that could barely be called a book. It was ancient, warn, and apparently had been kept hidden from the thralls. Not that it was of any consequence now. 
“My children,” she said, her voice only barely shaking. “Let us pray.”
Though terrified, the heretics knelt. Penumbra stared, almost as rapt as she had been for Zither’s performance. 
The mare opened the book and began to read. “Oh great Celestia, she who raises her divine sun at the dawn of each day and sets it to commence the night! She who bathes us in her divine light, in her endless love, hear our words!”
“Prayer can’t help you,” whispered the snake head.
“Janet. Shut. UP.”
“What? Is it my fault I’m stuck back here, on the BUTT? I have a right to speak, too! That little filly! I want to bite her! BITE HER HARD!” 
The filly whimpered, but was held close by one of the stallions of the group. They continued to hold their heads bowed, their backs facing outward, and their priestess continued to speak.
“Though we walk in a realm of darkness, we forget not your light, your glory, your gift. You who protect us from the darkness, and the horrors that dwell within it. We can know no fear beneath your sun, for though our bodies be not immortal our souls shall persist across eternity in your divine light.” She looked Sombra in the eye defiantly when she spoke. “We shall not forsake you, for we are your children, Wielder of Kindness, Generosity, and bearer of True Magic, we serve you, even here, and even now, in our darkest hour. Hail the One True Goddess, and praise the Sun.”
“Praise the sun,” wept the others. 
One among them, though, was shaking, continually looking around and at the chimera.
“I want that mare,” said Esther. “The green one. She looks tasty.”	
“Then stop talking and just do it already.”
“LET ME BITE THE FILLY!”
“SHUT UP JANET!” 
Penumbra felt sick. She was shaking, but could not take her eyes away. Neither could many of the crystal ponies. Although they tried to hide it, many were weeping. Others held one another, while many covered their mouthed in horror. Worst of all, Penumbra UNDERSTOOD- -she knew their pain, as she felt it too. Except that there was one difference, something unique only to her. 
The chimera lowered itself, preparing to pounce. One of the heretics gasped, and then suddenly stood, breaking their circle.
“We RECANT!” he screamed. “We reject Celestia! We RECANT! Hail Sombra!
“Hail the Witchking!” cried another, his daughter still held in his hooves and tears running down his face. “Hail Sombra, the One True God!” 
“Mercy!” pleaded another. “MERCY!” 
Penumbra stood suddenly, her wings flaring outward as she mimicked the exact pose she had seen Nightmare Moon take deep within her dreams. “IT IS GRANTED!” 
The entire arena suddenly fell absolutely silent. Not a single sound was made as all eyes turned to Penumbra- -and then slowly to Sombra. Even the chimera looked to him, not out of confusion but out of fear. One of the heretics fainted. 
Al’Hrabnaz stood quickly, sending his ravens scattering. “How dare you- -”
Sombra raised a hoof, silencing all other ponies. His red, slit-pupiled eyes turned to Penumbra. “That plea was not addressed to you, alicorn. But I am curious. Why do you seem so intent that I spare these heretics?”
Penumbra took a breath. She suddenly realized that in her haste, she had inadvertently entered into an exhibition of her own. There was no time to hesitate, and she refused to fail.
Taking a step back and raising her hoof to the crowd, Penumbra addressed both the audience and her father. “Have not these heretics recanted? Have they not rejected their false god?” Penumbra turned to Sombra, though she still spoke loud enough for all to hear. “And are you not a merciful king? What you request of your subjects is simple: their honesty, and their loyalty. In exchange you extend to them  your limitless generosity and kindness.” She looked down at the heretics, who were looking up at her both terrified but also in awe of their potential savior. “You have brought these ponies freedom from their illusions and from the tyranny of the Sun-Tyrant. You have restored their loyalty, and their worthiness for your favor. Oh great king...” Penumbra decided to take a risk; though extreme, she thought it might make for a useful rhetorical point. “...father. I ask that you once again extend your benevolence, and free these ponies to once again serve you and our glorious kingdom.” 
A murmur moved through the crowd. They were confused, but they did not seem so afraid. This was an unusual situation, one that had never happened before in the history of the Crystal Empire. Penumbra would have liked to see their faces, to know if they were still so deathly afraid of her- -but she kept her eyes focused on Sombra, not even looking up to Crozea or Emeth for aid. 
Sombra stared back at her. For a long moment, they were both silent. Then Sombra finally spoke. 
“Very well. But the act of Celestia-worship is a serious offense, and a deep wound to my trust. If these slaves are not to be liquidated here, what punishment do you recommend, princess?” 
Penumbra could not immediately answer that question because she had not considered it. She was unfamiliar with the legal system of her nation beyond its basic structure; she did not know what punishments ponies would normally be given. 
Twilight Luciferian stood, the yellow mare sliding off his side and taking his still-warm seat. “My king,” he said, bowing. “Might I offer my suggestion?”
“I had not asked you, Twilight, but I assume you are going to suggest regardless.”
Luciferian smiled at Penumbra. “Instead of public liquidation, we shall send their children to the mines. In the district most severely afflicted by the damp.” He turned to the heretics and smiled. “Then the adults will be sent to the glue factory.”
“Not the glue factory!” cried one of the heretics as another fainted. 
“I’ll be sticky FOREVER!!”
“I’m not finished.” Luciferian’s smile grew. “Though the sheep have recanted, it appears that the shepherd has not. So the priestess will require special punishment. If I may be so bold, I recommend ad Modum Pinata. She will be hung in the town center at dawn. By her leg, or perhaps her tail. And she shall be beaten daily for thirty of her precious false-god’s passing.”
“Or until the candy comes out!” whispered Eternity. 
“I- -I- -” Penumbra looked at the heretics, and their wide, pitiful eyes. The punishment was severe indeed, but it was better than increasing the local chimera’s obesity. “If there is no other option- -”
“Actually,” said Emeth, standing. “I may have an alternative, if you are interested.”
“Be quiet,” hissed Luciferian. “You have NOTHING to add!”
“But I do.” Emeth looked at the heretics, but contained speaking. “I am currently in need of live or partially alive ponies to participate as test subjects.”
“Test subjects?” Penumbra did not know if she should feel hopeful or not. It was bad enough to know that Twilight Luciferian was actually married or had a marefriend; she did not want to learn just how vicious Emeth truly was in the same day.
“Turing tests for my phase-three prototypes. The tests are intensive but critical.”
“I was not aware you had prototypes,” said Sombra. 
“Because they have not yet passed the Turing test.”
“And the priestess?”
Emeth eyed her carefully. “Prototype Delilah has an interest in pony religion. Although my background in the subject is extensive, as a machine I am inherently incapable of conceiving of an immortal creator. A steadfast believer could prove a rare find.” His pupils narrowed. “Additionally, she will be housed for the remainder of her life in my facility. She will never see the sun again.”   
“Do what you will!” shouted the priestess. “I will not break!”
Emeth stared at her, and slowly smiled, if his expression could even be called that. “All ponies break, in time. And when you do, you will find that, like myself, you have no soul that can be preserved. But I admire your defiance, even when the fate of your so-called siblings and children are on the line.” He looked up to Penumbra. “The decision, of course, is yours.”
Penumbra looked between the two, and then focused on Sombra once more. “I am of the opinion that these heretics can serve their kingdom most effectively with Lord Emeth’s plan.”
Sombra stared at her, then nodded incredibly slightly. “Very well. But the crimes of the priestess cannot be wiped away by interrogation by a golem.”
“My king?”
“She must be prepared first.” He looked to his right. “Scarlet Mist?”
Scarlet Mist chuckled slightly and stood. Mist descended from her, seeping down from the stands like fingers. The heretics cried out and flees, abandoning their priestess. She held her holy book to her chest as she was forced to inhale, and then her eyes went wide as the fear consumed her. 
“No! NO!” She screamed and began to confuse. “Celestia NO! MAKE IT STOP!” 
Her screams then devolved into wordlessness. Penumbra- -and the crystal ponies in the audience- -were forced to look away. Though the effect was supposedly temporary, the scars would be permanent. 
“I still want to bite the filly,” whispered the chimera’s tail. As she said it, the whole of the chimera was grasped in red magic and forcefully pushed back to the gate it had come from. 
“Great job, Janet!”
“Now we don’t get dinner!”
“Hey, HEY! It’s not MY fault! Besides, you two are FATTIES!”
“It’s true,” sighed Esther. “Heretics really are bad for our cholesterol...” 
Sombra stood. “See to it that these ponies are delivered to their new home promptly.” 
The steward bowed, and directed several thralls to take the slaves away.
The former heretics burst out weeping with relief. A few called their thanks to Penumbra, and the young filly waved. Penumbra waved back- -just as she felt her father’s head beside her own. 
“How very bold,” he whispered. “And an important showing. But defy me like that again, and we shall see exactly how immortal your alicorn body truly is.” 
“A small price to pay for the sanctity of the Empire,” whispered Penumbra in return. 
When they returned to their seats and the last of the heretics had been dragged off the area, the steward stepped back into the center. Even she seemed surprised, as well as annoyed that her carefully crafted schedule had been disrupted. 
“It would seem that we are now ahead of schedule,” she said, addressing the crowd. “Which gives us even greater time for our final and most important event.” She turned to the deck where Sombra, Penumbra and the Dark Thirteen sat. She raised a hoof and gestured toward them. “The time has come for the issuance of challenges, to be displayed here before our glorious Empire in combat. Let it be known that should you defeat a member of the Dark Thirteen, you shall rise and replace them at King Sombra’s side.” She looked out to the crowd. “Are there any takers?”
The crowd was absolutely silent. Among the slaves, there were many powerful warriors and skilled mages, but all remained silent, looking away to avoid meeting the steward’s eye. All but one.
A unicorn mage stood. He was shaking and dressed in rags, clearly terrified out of his mind. It was also clear he had not eaten in several weeks, perhaps longer.
“I, LemonLeaf, challenge Twilight Luciferian- -”
A sudden snap of violet light struck the young unicorn in the face so hard that he was hurled halfway up the arena steps with such force that the force sent crystal slaves flying. He hit hard, unconscious only because the cushioning impact with the crystal ponies had kept him from a far less amenable fate. 	
“Your students are slipping, Necrophilo,” said Luciferian, the glow of his horn slowly fading. 
“That one was no student of mine,” retorted Necrophilo. “Not after what has done. Or, rather, failed to do.” 
“That said.” Luciferian stood and stepped forward. “I myself would like to issue a challenge.”
Both the Blue Knight and Necrophilo of Canterlot sighed and began to stand up. 
“By ancient and sacred unicorn law, I challenge King Sombra to a duel.” 
The entire arena once again fell completely silent. Fainting ran rampant; this was far more stress than even the crystal slaves were normally put through. 
None dared to speak as Sombra slowly turned his head. His eyes were at once cold and still, and filled with abject fury. Despite it, though, he remained as calm as ever. 
“What you have invoked is not an ordinary challenge,” said Sombra, slowly. “n all honesty, I have expected this for some time, Twilight. But if I am to accept, I must offer you a chance. Surely you understand the consequences of what you have just done, and that you have thrown your life away either way. I shall give you only one opportunity to retreat, for once the challenge is accepted, it cannot be retracted.”
“You make it sound so serious,” laughed Luciferian, bowing. “My king, I merely wish to test my skills. As a demonstration to the kingdom, as none among us could withstand a battle with you for even minutes.” He grinned at the steward as he said it. “I would never dream of usurping you, my lord. Even if I am more than strong enough to.” 
Sombra’s eyes narrowed, and he sighed. “So be it. Your challenge is accepted, Twilight Luciferian, last scion of House Twilight.”
Sombra stood, and his ceremonial armor ignited in red flame. The spell propagated across the surface, reforging the armor into something clearer and crisper than anything Penumbra had ever seen. In an instant, Sombra stood before her, his long mane tied back and his body clad in the most beautiful armor Penumbra had ever seen. In fact, she had never seen a stallion so handsome. 
His body flashed red again, this time as he teleported. He appeared beside the steward in the center of the arena. Even the steward jumped, momentarily breaking her professionalism, because she recognized the look in Sombra’s eyes. It was exactly how he had looked when she, in desperation, had challenged him to a duel- -three minutes before her horn had been ripped from her skull and her kingdom forever enthralled to the Crystal Empire. 
“Lord Twilight,” said Penumbra. “You can’t be serious! He’s our king- -”
“Is he.” He smiled at Penumbra and took her hoof. “Do not worry, my princess. I give you my word that I will be safe. And that I will return for you when the duel is complete.” 
With that, he turned and jumped into the arena, walking carefully down a set of luminescent magic plates he had projected. 
The steward looked at both of them, and stepped back. “The- -the challenge is accepted. Let it commence!” She drew back and was lifted from the arena, leaving only Sombra and Luciferian. 
Penumbra shifted in her seat. Beside her, Gxurab Al’Hrabnaz stood. This time his birds did not leave. Penumbra realized that this was the closest she had been to him since he had tried to baste her in her own juices. 
“This is absurd!” he said, not to anyone in particular. “This is absolutely absurd!” 
“Though there are few I generally agree with less,” said Crozea, standing and walking to the edge of the platform. “What the morlock says is true, this fight is needless.”
“But well within his rights as a unicorn.” Necrophilo could not stop smiling. “The challenge has been issued, and accepted. We have no right to interfere.” 
“To Twilight, you are no friend; I think you only wish to see your rival’s end.”
Necrophilo smirked. “Do you really doubt your king’s abilities that deeply? Watch out, or you’ll be the next one fed to the chimera.” He leaned forward, bending at an impossible angle for any creature with legs. “Besides. Luciferian has no idea what he has done. He is too young to remember their customs, and they were never written in books.”
“What customs?” asked Penumbra. 
Necrophilo eyed her closely. “You shall see, little princess.” 
The yellow mare in Twilight Luciferian’s chair lifted her head. Even at a distance, she reeked badly of rotting flowers. “Oh yes. She most certainly will. You ALL will.” 
She giggled wildly, and Penumbra found that she had become deeply afraid.