Though muffled by grass, his hoofsteps seemed to echo and ring in the ears of all present, as if the dull beats carried with them not just a soldier, but a master, or a king. This was especially true for a certain alicorn mare, who, though she was dead tired only a moment ago, stood with vastly renewed attention. A blunted longsword hung loosely from her mouth. The tip scraped lightly across the wooden floorboards as she took an unconscious step back.
Lucky Break pressed forward through the crowd. They noiselessly parted, drifting away like ghosts through the grass, granting him passage. Not a single one of them dared to mutter a word, and not a single one of them dared to lift a hoof in objection. Many ducked their heads as he passed, lowering their eyes and avoiding his gaze. It looked almost as if those closest to him were bowing in reverence, awed and frightened by the apparent patron deity of the dueling ring. However, regardless of how fully he commanded their piety, the effect was lost as they looked right back up as he passed, curiosity far outweighing any guilt. Apple Crumble seemed to be the only one unimpressed by the display, scoffing in annoyance.
Lucky noticed none of it.
He came to one side of the ring, and climbed the staircase. The sudden change in noise from the ghostlike thump of treading grass to the clop of hooves on wood made Celestia flinch, as if that stallion walking towards her had changed from an ethereal presence to something very, very real. Lance Corporal Allez reacted similarly, her gaze trained on her commander as she tried to simultaneously watch his movement and hide her own guilt.
Still, Lucky noticed none of it.
Celestia looked at him, and realized his eyes, which had seemed so icy pale before, were filled with color. And those eyes, those vivid, bright blue eyes, were locked with her own. She turned her head left, and craned her neck low, but try as she might, she could not break the bond. She took another step back, and realized she was already at the edge of the rail-less wooden platform. She was able to break the eye contact for a moment, and a moment was all she needed to realize jumping off and running away was an impossibility. The ponies below might as well have been boiling lava for all the comfort they gave her.
Her wings felt clumsy at her sides. Perhaps they would have worked; they were perfectly healthy, after all, barring a few scratches here and there. However, as she tried to deploy them, even experimentally, she found she could only extend them a quarter length out before they hit an invisible, impassable wall. She blinked in surprise, and looked back at her wings, seeing nothing wrong with them but noticing very clearly an inexplicable block in the back of her mind. She tried again and was met with even less success. She could practically feel bands of stage fright tightening around her sides, pulling her wings close to her body, until she could do no more than pathetically shift them in place.
Her glance quickly snapped back forward, where Lucky was still standing, still staring. Still waiting for something. Celestia knew exactly what that something was, because gazing into that all too familiar expression of his, she saw it. Past that mask of stone, there was the tiniest bit of movement, something so small, and so intangible, it could have been imagined, and yet, she knew it was not. His nose wrinkled, the corners of his mouth twitched, and beyond it all, there was a certain something in his eyes, a spirit of its own that shivered with excitement.
There is only one way through this, Celestia thought. Forward.
She took a step away from the edge. She became very aware of a shade of doubt, familiar and frightening, growing in the corner of her mind, threatening to rise to the surface. Celestia shook her head; she would not let it. Her jaw clamped onto her sword a little tighter.
And Lucky noticed.
He drew his blade. The metallic ring shook the otherwise motionless air, and seemed to resonate with the the spirit in his eyes.
Lance Corporal Allez responded immediately. “Commander Break! Sir!” she cried. Her voice seemed to break a certain mysticism. A few ponies gave a startled jump as they snapped back to reality. “Forgive my insolence, sir! I brought Celestia up to fight, knowing full well the rules against allowing new recruits to duel!”
He was silent, his eyes still locked elsewhere. Allez stepped in between Lucky and Celestia, hoping to gain his attention. “I did so in full knowledge of consequence, and willingly accept discipline for my deeds!”
At this, Lucky merely extended a hoof towards the Lance Corporal and lightly pushed her away, craning his neck over her as he did so. It was not physically forceful, but she stepped to the side anyways. His gaze never seemed to have left Celestia, his eyes staying focused at the same distance, distraction notwithstanding. Allez’s head swiveled between the two, as did everypony else’s. Crumble seemed to be on the verge of action, leaning forward on his legs and holding one hoof above the ground. Still, the crowd had not uttered a word.
“Right, well,” Allez muttered, uncharacteristically hesitant. “Allow me to mend my mistakes.” She walked towards Celestia and put a hoof around her chest, ushering her towards the platform’s stairs.
She did not budge.
“C’mon, recruit,” Allez insisted. “That’s enough trouble for one-”
“Corporal,” Lucky Break called.
She immediately wheeled around.
He had broken his gaze, and was instead looking at her. His words were muffled behind his sword hilt. “Were you not calling for challengers?”
Allez hurriedly looked away and found the gaze of her brother, Captain Garde, who was standing on the outskirts of the crowd, cringing at each new development. Any trouble here would be returned upon their heads twofold; Garde had gotten Celestia to duel, and Allez had perpetuated it. She shot him a desperate glance, and he could only helplessly shrug. She seemed to be in direct contrast with him, both in appearance and in personality. Her colors were a reversal of his; she had a dark red coat and a green mane. Her cutie mark was a rapier with an elaborate hilt and hoofguard, the same one that hung in a sheath at her side. Regardless of their differences, they most certainly shared much of the same concern. She turned back to Lucky.
“Yes, sir, I was.” Allez was an earth pony with a sharp wit. She was never at a loss for words, and would often come up with quick, humorous, often irreverent responses. However, at that moment, though her tongue was quick, she was at a severe loss, not for words, but for thoughts. Her mind could not keep up with her mouth, her aggressive attitude had faltered, and the awkwardness of her tone showed for it.
Lucky released his sword into his hoof. “What were your words again?” he pondered.
“I asked these yellow-bellied dogs to show us how it was done!” she said, motioning to the crowd. Some of them rolled their eyes, some of them scowled, but most just cringed at the specificity of the language. Allez cringed as well, biting down on her tongue, hard. “…Sir.”
Lucky raised an eyebrow. “And?”
Unsure of what he wanted, her answer came out more like a question. “…And I asked who wanted to be lucky number thirteen?”
“Yes,” Lucky said, pointedly jabbing a hoof in her direction. “You did. So here I am. Lucky, number thirteen.” He looked around at the crowd, his soldiers. “And maybe this ‘yellow-bellied dog,’” he called, a half grin on his face, “can show you how it’s done!”
It took a moment for them to react, as if they had been watching a play, and the fourth wall had just been broken. A few of them gave small, good-natured laughs, and they all seemed to release a collectively held breath.
Crumble refused to relax. Perhaps Celestia was some sort of prodigy. Perhaps she was blessed by the gods. Perhaps she was just more fortunate than the embodiment of fortune himself. And yet, there was no way he could envision this duel ending in her favor. Captain Garde had briefly relayed to him Celestia’s previous engagements. Apple Crumble had even seen the tail end of one of them. She had moved with a grace that astounded him, if only because it had been so completely and utterly unexpected. Nevertheless, she had already fought and won twelve battles. Her glistening coat reflected the light of the descending sun in a way only sweat could. Though out of combat, her chest expanded and collapsed with deep, drawing breaths. Her head was held low, her knees looked as though they were about to buckle, and her entire body seemed to sag. Crumble was a veteran, and he knew that posture all too well. It was the drooping stance of a tired soldier.
And she still had one more opponent. And that opponent was Lucky.
This had gone on far enough. Crumble deployed his wings and took a few steps forward. The boy could be hot-headed at times, but there was never a situation Crumble could not defuse with a little common sense. His knees were bent, and he was ready to take to the air. He cast another concerned glance at Celestia, and saw something he had missed. He stopped.
Past the sweat, the bruises, and the exhaustion, there were signs of something else. The determination in her scowl. The fire in her eyes. The set of her jaw around her sword. He saw all that, and was reminded of a certain pony, a grey-coated, earth tribe colt, who had worn that very same expression, all those years ago. The resemblance was uncanny, and, now that he thought about it, so was the circumstance.
He saw all that, and could not help but smile. His wings slowly folded, and he brought himself to a stand. “Heh. Alrigh’, sunshine,” he muttered, to nopony in particular. “He’s all yours. Show us what yeh’ve got.”
Lucky continued. “Does she know the rules?” He addressed Allez, but his voice could easily be heard by the spectators.
“Yes sir, she does.” She nodded. “We’ve been using the normal set. One hit to the torso, neck, or head, and three to the legs and hooves. Falling off the ring results in loss, but only if backed out of, or pushed by the blade. Best two out of three rounds win the match.”
“Good, good.” Lucky nodded. “Corporal Allez. Officiate for us, if you would.”
“Of course, sir.” Seeing her commander at relative ease, Allez had regained some poise, and she slipped back into a more relaxed, informal tone. “We have our match thirteen, everypony!”
There were a few isolated whistles and stomps. The crowd was cheering, but almost timidly so, as if there were still unsure of how to react. Regardless of their hesitance, everypony leaned in, took a step closer, or propped themselves up on the shoulders of their fellows to get a better view. Some pegasi had even flown to the training course and retrieved bits of cloudstuff, fashioning them into comfortable, floating couches in order to get an unobstructed view of the match. In the near distance, peeking over the low fence were a multitude of citizens, passersby that had happened to see the fighting and stopped to watch. As Celestia actually won her matches, the number of onlookers had increased exponentially, until there were hundreds of non-military ponies pressing against the fence and dotting the air, watching the alicorn with fascination and awe.
It was the first time Celestia had seen any of them. How had she not noticed before? The determined fire in her belly died down, just a little, wavering under the pressure of her audience’s eyes.
Allez moved to the middle of the ring. “Combatants, shake hooves.”
Celestia pulled her gaze away from the onlookers, and looked back to Lucky. He was already standing in the center, sword pinned against the ground with one hoof, looking at her expectantly. His gaze had not lost an ounce of intensity. Indeed, with the distractions out of the way, the fire in his eyes burned even brighter. She walked forward, and raised a hoof, offering it towards him. He returned the favor, raising his own, and pressing it against hers. It was a firm pressure, but not harsh, one that seemed to imply confidence underneath. To Celestia, it felt oddly… normal.
He retracted his hoof, picked up his sword, and walked back to his end of the ring. Celestia’s hoof hovered in the air for a second. She turned it towards herself and examined it, as if expecting something to have rubbed off from their contact. Nothing was different. Scowling, she put it down, and walked back to her end of the ring. She put her sword into her mouth, gingerly adjusting it with her tongue and teeth.
“Combatants, are you ready?” Allez called.
Celestia crouched low, put her sword at the ready, and stared at her opponent. Lucky was bigger than her, stronger than her, and was almost certainly more skilled than her. Celestia herself was no pushover; there had been multiple opportunities for her to test her own boundaries, and it was apparent that she was quite physically fit, even compared against a soldier’s standard. Injuries aside, her lean muscles and slender build lent to a surprising stamina and a natural, if unrefined, grace. Nevertheless, the opponent that stood before her held all of these qualities, and then some. He was strong, not so stocky and huge like Crumble, but was rather athletic . He possessed a powerful fluidity, muscular limbs that could dodge and maneuver just as easily as they could swing a greatsword, or put up a stalwart defense, all at a moment’s notice. It was frightening. His expression twitched in the smallest of motions, reacting to each and every movement Celestia made, reminding her very much of a predator examining its prey. Though it seemed to be the same face he always wore, in the context of battle, it was all too intimidating.
She shook her head. Now was not the time to worry. Lucky was surely skilled, but apparently, she was too. And yet, as she prepared herself for battle, she realized that exhilarating pounding in her chest was gone. Her heart no longer skipped beats, and her blood ceased to rush in her veins. It was as if she had forgotten the lyrics and rhythm to an important song. As she tried to recall the feeling, or at least, tried to recall why it was so important, the thought occurred to her for the very first time: how was she winning? How could she have possibly defeated a warrior of the Maiden’s Battalion? How could she have defeated twelve? Her mind reeled at the thought.
She gave a quiet, frustrated growl. It did not matter. She nodded to Allez.
Lucky, standing tall and perfectly still, eyed Celestia for a moment. He put his sword into his teeth, and crouched, and then stood back up, casting her another curious glance. His head was tilted, his eyes played over her body, and Celestia could practically see the gears working in his head, as if he were on the verge of figuring the solution to a mathematics problem. Suddenly, he tossed his sword up, and caught it so that it was pointing to his left, mirroring Celestia’s blade. Then, he settled into a fighting stance, bending his knees, not as low as Celestia, and nodded, first to himself, and then to Allez.
Allez looked from Lucky to Celestia, and, giving a satisfied nod, backed up to the edge of the wooden platform. Demanding the crowd move and make a hole for her, she jumped off of the ring and onto the grass below, disappearing into the mass of ponies.
“On your guard!” Allez’s voice shouted. The crowd went silent. Celestia’s foreleg twitched. A bead of sweat ran down her cheek. She readjusted her grip on her blade. She was anxious, ready to charge forward at the first signal, as she had for all of her other fights. Lucky, however, remained completely still, holding himself with poise and tension like a coiled spring.
“Go!”
Celestia immediately leapt forward, her face scrunched in determination. She would have shouted, had her mouth not been clamped around a sword. She settled for growling instead. Closing the distance in less than a second, she stopped in front of Lucky, who had yet to even move, and swept at the side of his neck in a low, rising strike. The blade sailed unhindered towards him. Too easy-
Celestia’s teeth rattled as she felt her blade collide with metal. Lucky craned his neck and swung with his head. Maneuvering the tip of his blade underneath hers, he guided it along the flat side of his sword, flicked up, and ducked, sending the Celestia’s swing over his head. He recovered from his own maneuver, sidestepped, and returned the blow with alarming speed, sending a thrust straight towards her. Celestia was still recovering from the momentum of her own attack. She had no chance. She did not even have time to flinch properly.
Lucky’s sword reached its target and crashed straight into Celestia’s ribs. Her eyes went wide and she let out a huge wheeze, ejecting the sword from her mouth. Even with the blunted training sword, and even with her padded armor, the blow was enough to completely topple her. She was knocked off of her hooves and sent spinning to the floor.
“Hit and match!” Allez cried.
She thought she heard the crowd “Ohh,” in sympathy, but was too busy regaining her breath to pay too much attention. Her eyes were shut tight, and she drew short, gasping breaths. She clutched with both hooves at her sides, especially on her right, where she could feel a horrible, throbbing ache. She shivered at the pain of it, unable to do anything but endure the spikes of sensation until they eventually subsided. It was a full twenty seconds before she could bring herself to open her eyes. Lucky Break was standing over her.
He was staring at her, right into her eyes. She half expected him to extend a helping hoof, and she freed one arm from her side and slowly put it towards him. He did not respond, except to continue searching her eyes. Her arm fell lamely to the floor. She tried to let out a frustrated growl, but it came out as more of a sigh.
“Go find a spyglass,” Celestia wheezed, mustering as much sarcasm as her recovering lungs would allow. “You’ll get a better look that way.” She rocked to her side, closed her eyes, and coughed.
Lucky’s eyes narrowed. “Hmph.” He looked up and walked away from her, taking his spot on his side of the ring.
Celestia struggled to her hooves, simultaneously reaching out to retrieve her sword. As soon as she picked it up, she noticed the spectators were cheering. Ponies all around were stomping their hooves and whistling, which in itself, she did not find strange, until she realized something. They were cheering for her. The moment she rose to her hooves, the ponies had ecstatically applauded, if only for the fact that she was still able to walk, move, and breathe after that last hit. As she looked around, it brought a timid smile to her face, seeing the eager faces of the ponies around her, even if she knew they were rooting for the underdog.
She shuffled to her side of the ring, her gait thrown off by the ache in her side. As she took her place, and showed she was still able to fight, they cheered even harder. One voice in particular rang high and loud above the din.
“Go, Celestia! Woo, yeah! Kick his flank!”
Celestia looked towards the courtyard fence, surveying the civilian crowd that pressed against it. That voice was familiar.
“C’mon, Celly! Just believe…!”
She saw a pink and purple mane, bobbing up and down just above the fence, and saw glimpses of cyan just behind it. Celestia smiled as she recognized a familiar, candy-coated unicorn jump up, plant her hooves on the top of the fence, and struggle forward, peeking her head just over the wooden planks.
“Just believe in yourself!” Cotton called, as loudly as she could.
Celestia broke out into a grin, and gave a small wave.
Cotton beamed, and raised one hoof to wave back. Somepony bumped into her, and her smile turned to surprise as she fell behind the fence again. Apparently, it was too tall for her to simply look over. Celestia did not have the chance to see if Cotton was able to regain her spot, as Lance Corporal Allez commanded her attention.
“Round one goes to Lucky Break!” The crowd continued cheering, and stomped their hooves in approval. Even if it was fun to cheer for an underdog, Lucky was a war hero. They knew when to give respect when respect was due.
“Round two!” Allez shouted over the din of the crowd. “Combatants, are you ready?”
Celestia crouched low, struggling to get into her stance. She put her sword into her mouth, thinking of how to modify her strategy. This time, she would swipe from a different angle, and lighter, so that if it was deflected, she had time to recover. She nodded at Allez.
Lucky put his sword into his mouth, and eyeballed Celestia, a shadow of contemplation playing over his features. It was same procedure as the last match, where he would stand, completely out of stance, and just think. His expression was not searching, but rather, it looked as though he were strategizing. He tapped his hoof against his sword, and Celestia could have sworn he was muttering to himself. Finally, he put his sword into his right hoof, instead of his mouth, and nodded towards the Lance Corporal.
“On your guard!” she shouted. The crowd quieted. Celestia’s gaze broke for half a second to see if Cotton was still watching.
“Go!”
Caught off guard, Celestia did not have the time to find her. Her gaze immediately swiveled back to see Lucky, jumping towards her. He was a half foot off the ground, and had his sword clutched in both hooves, swinging towards her in a powerful downwards stroke.
Celestia panicked. What was her plan again? She forgot, and instinct took over, as she dodged to the side a split second before his sword came crashing down. She felt the wind of the blade rush by her face as it sliced only inches away.
Lucky’s sword hit the wooden floorboards, which splintered in protest. His swing bounced off to reveal a huge dent. More in a surprised reaction than an actual counter attack, Celestia slashed at Lucky’s exposed forelimbs. Almost lazily, he jumped back, sliding just out of range, following it up with a single-hoofed, horizontal swipe. Celestia twisted her neck just in time to allow the blade in her mouth to catch it. Sparks appeared as metal collided with metal, Lucky’s blade grinding along the flat side of Celestia’s. She flicked her head, and pushed his blade away.
Seeing a brief opening, Celestia spat her blade into her hoof and again slashed at Lucky’s neck. It was blocked. Celestia blinked. Her sword was completely stopped on his. He recovered faster than she imagined was possible, and had absorbed all that momentum without flinching. For a brief moment, as their swords were locked, their eyes met. Celestia’s expression was surprised, afraid, even. Lucky’s was the same as ever, until at the last second, she thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a disappointed, half-frown.
He tested his strength against hers, and found her lacking. He gave a sudden, forceful jolt of motion directly against her sword with his own, shoving her away. Celestia’s sword was knocked off balance, her arms and head whiplashing backwards. She was quick to recover, but not quick enough. There was barely enough time for her to raise her sword and deflect his first, fierce blow, and even less time to deflect his second. Lucky attacked with unbelievable agility and unrelenting force. His assault was without pause, and each stroke was that much closer to becoming a hit. He maintained a barrage of attacks that moved like clockwork, chipping away at rapidly declining defense, one swing sweeping into the next with perfect, brutal precision. Each metallic clang seemed to ring louder and louder, shaking Celestia’s bones, and her confidence.
Finally, Celestia could keep up no more. She made a feeble attempt at counter attacking, and Lucky parried her blow with ease, spinning the sword out of her hooves and into the air. One slash, he caught her left foreleg, and she faltered forward.
“Hit!”
Another slash, he caught her right foreleg. She stumbled to her knees.
“Hit!”
Lucky began a two-hoofed swing towards Celestia, though one hoof was empty. In what was either the most skilled or luckiest maneuver she had ever seen, Lucky caught Celestia’s own sword in his hoof, and carried it through with the same momentum as his own.
Wham! Wham!
The pair of blunted blades collided with Celestia’s temple and jaw. Her vision was clouded over by an explosion of black and white stars. The lightly padded training helmet she wore was not nearly enough to absorb the fierce blow. The sheer force of the strike sent her from her knees straight to the floor. She did not even have the good fortune to roll with the hit and tumble. Her head hit the wood, and all her momentum stopped against it.
“Hit and match!”
Celestia’s stirred on the ground, unaware of anything but her own agony. She softly moaned in pain, wanting very much to scream but lacking the strength and consciousness to do so.
“Round two goes to Lucky Break!”
She clutched her head, and pulled herself into the tiniest ball she could. Waves of pain and nausea coursed through her. She whimpered and moaned, feeling very much like a foal for doing so. In her current state, however, she could not bring herself to care. She felt bile rise in her throat, and was only barely able to swallow it back down.
“With two consecutive wins, the match also goes to Lucky Break!”
She tasted a salty film of blood coating the inside of her mouth. It pooled in her cheek and tickled the back of her throat. She coughed into her elbows. Squinting her eyes open, through her blurry vision, she could see flecks of blood on her pure white coat, sickeningly mixing with the sweat. Her eyes closed as another wave of nausea hit.
“Well done, commander. And you as well, Celestia, though not quite the performance you put on earli-… Celestia?”
She was in no condition to respond, as she felt her awareness gradually fading away. Her response came out as an unintelligible, slurred mumble. Even Celestia did not know what she had tried to say.
“Celestia? Hey!”
A hoof nudged her shoulder. It did nothing. She felt herself slipping.
Slipping, and somepony was calling her name.
Slipping, and somepony was calling her name, and their voice was concerned, though not particularly friendly, and the only thing she could think about was just how strange that was.
**********
The dream seemed to last forever.
And why shouldn’t it?
There were colors, everywhere. That was always the first thing she noticed. Of course, because that was the only thing to notice. The colors. But there was something else, like an echo behind it all. Something, a voice, perhaps? A question, or a declaration? If she stared at the colors hard enough, a shape appeared, but other ponies, strangers, kept getting in the way. She waved them off, and tried to speak, tried to ask it things.
that’s a strange question
why shouldn’t it do what? …dream…?
makes no sense
I have dreamt, and I will keep dreaming. The dream will last forever. Or, at least, it should.
dream of what?
Nothing, I think. Who knows. Worthy beliefs. Vain goals.
…
…hello…?
where did you go?
Old friendships.
friendships …I have no friends…
I don’t understand …they will hate me…
Victory. That’s what I dream of. What do you dream of?
not dreams,
nightmares,
of strangers,
and him,
and sometimes
of shadows …hatred…
Dangerous dreams. You poor thing. They’re getting worse, aren’t they? Your dreams, your nightmares. I can tell. Your diction is infantile, and you can barely keep a steady train of thought. I can barely keep a steady train of thought.
speak plain …I don’t understand…
Speak for yourself. Ha! Rummy would not appreciate such humor, would he? No, he wouldn’t.
I don’t understand …rummy…
It’s okay. They say the mind is a pony’s last, safe place.
I don’t understand …what is rummy…?
Listen. Listen to me. Here’s a tip. Let him come to you.
he is mean …I am scared…
Hush. Pay attention.
you are mean …help me…
He is looking for something he shall never find. You must convince him he has found it.
I don’t understand
Just listen.
**********
“That was uncalled for.”
She awoke, and brought her eyes to a painful squint, viewing the world through a blurry filter. Two indistinct, pony-shaped blurs were standing next to her. They were arguing, but their voices were muffled in her ears. They seemed so distant, and so unimportant. She felt somepony manipulating her head and hooves, turning them from side to side. Her ears twitched as she heard the slight, tinkling sound of magic, and she felt an unnatural sensation of pins and needles alternating between her arms, ribs, head, and jaw.
“It was legal.”
“It was brutal! Yeh had her on the ropes the entire blasted match! A poke to the chest would’ve had the same effect.”
“It would not have knocked her out.”
“Damn righ’, it wouldn’t have! The hell is wrong with yeh, lad? Why did yeh do it?”
The response was dejected, almost depressed. “I thought... I thought I saw...”
Celestia let out a soft gasp as one of her injured arms was handled a bit too roughly. It was quiet, almost pathetically so, but enough to draw the attention of the two figures nearby. One of them walked closer and hovered over her. She tried to blink her bleary eyes clear, and was only partially successful.
It was Lucky Break. She expected him to look relieved, or at least concerned. Instead, his expression was dismal, his features bearing an unhappy frown.
“Hmph. You see?” He lifted his head, and spoke to the pony behind him. “She’s fine.”
“What happened…?” Celestia muttered. Something caught the back of her throat, and she let out a few, wet sounding coughs.
Lucky looked back down at her. His tone was apathetic, almost angry. “You lost.”
Celestia’s vision swam before her eyes, and she could not focus enough to return with the scowl she would have liked. Instead, her expression was more dazed and confused, the look of someone who had indeed just been knocked unconscious. Lucky scoffed, and backed away as another pony continued working at her side.
“Bruising on the limbs, a concussion... bruised ribs, and possibly a cracked jaw,” the pony said. It was a male voice, and a familiar one. “Well, nothing lasting, at least. Not too bad, all things considered.” Celestia raised her head, and focused her eyes.
“Doctor Cross?”
“Hello, Celestia.”
Her head unceremoniously dropped back to the floor, eyes wide open but pupils unmoving. She could muster no response. Her faculties were only just returning, and she only had half of an idea of what was happening around her. Another set of hoofsteps stopped right beside her.
“Well, yer quite the trooper, ain’t yeh, sunshine?”
Celestia did not move. “Crumble?”
“Aye. Let it never be said yeh couldn’t take a hit.” He gave a single, humorless chuckle, and patted her playfully on the cheek. Celestia groaned in pain.
Doctor Cross swatted his hoof away. “Do not touch the patient, please.”
“Sorry.”
It was only another few seconds before the doctor spoke again. “Well, I have done everything I can do here. Let’s get you on your hooves.” Two sets of strong hooves began lifting her up.
She tried her best to comply, but much of her body simply felt lifeless and limp. “Where’d Lucky go?” she weakly asked.
“Never yeh mind,” Crumble said. “Yeh’ve already lost the match.”
The doctor nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Let's get you to the infirmary.”
“No, no…” She wriggled free of their grasp, and shooed them away. “I’m fine!”
Both the doctor and Crumble retreated a few steps, and Celestia struggled to find her balance, free of their support. As she lifted her head, she felt a rush of blood race through her temples. It put stars in her vision until she was nearly blind. She did not wait for it to pass before calling out to Lucky, who had only stayed to make sure she was taken care of, and was already walking away.
“Hey!” she shouted.
He stopped and turned his head, viewing her out of the corner of his eye.
“Are you just going to walk away like that? I…” Celestia swayed a bit, and put a hoof to her temple, cringing in pain. “…I want a rematch.”
“It was best two out of three. You already lost.” He turned forward again, and started walking. “So yes. I am going to walk away.”
And inside Celestia’s mind, something snapped. All of her tension, frustration, sadness, and anger let itself out, all at once.
“You know what your problem is? You’re bitter!”
Lucky stopped.
Celestia had nearly shrieked the accusation, yelling it louder than she had actually meant. Even so, now that she had started, it was too hard to stop. “You’re mean, and selfish, and cruel, and, and just bitter! You blame me for all your problems, and you are just too wrapped up in your own misery that you can’t see that none of this is my fault! It’s your fault, Lucky! You did this to yourself!”
In a sudden blur of grey and orange, Lucky turned, charged across the distance between them, and stopped right front of her. His nose was only inches from her own. Celestia tried not to flinch, and failed. “And do you know what your problem is?”
Celestia did not dignify his question with a response, partially because she was too focused on trying to keep a brave face. She could feel his breath, hot on her cheek.
“Your problem,” Lucky said, lowering his voice to a growling, venomous whisper, “is your stance. Do you know what they call it? ‘The Rising Sun’. Because it’s inspirational.” He spat the word as though it were bitter on his tongue.
Lucky was angry, angrier than she had ever seen. Even more so than the night she had seen him in Clover’s observatory. Even though he was only whispering, there was an inner fury that was unmistakable. It was curious, Celestia thought in the back of her mind, that she did not quite know what he was angry at.
“You start low, and you give up some defense for a posture that allows you to move around your immediate area quicker. You sacrifice your own safety for the safety of others. In that stance, you have no idea what you’re doing. She did. She used it. And she sure as hell used it better than you.” He raised a hoof and gave an unfriendly push to her chest.
Celestia spoke the first words that came to mind. “I. Am not. Daylight.” She turned and spat on the wood floor. Her saliva was red with blood.
Lucky stared at her for a long time. His cool, indifferent visage was completely broken, stricken through with rage. After a long while, his features relaxed. His furious snarl gave way to his usual grimace, and his furrowed brows rose, if only by a little, but Celestia knew the wrathful fire that burned away at his heart was far from gone.
“You want a rematch?” he muttered venomously. “Fine. We’ll fight. And this time, you’re going to stay down for a lot longer than sixty seconds.”
Lucky walked to his place on the ring, and picked up Celestia’s sword, which happened to be lying there. He tossed it forward, and it clattered to the ground in front of her. She picked it up, and walked to her starting spot.
“Lance Corporal!” Lucky barked. “One more match!”
At this, Doctor Cross spoke up. “Excuse me, Commander Break. I highly advise against this. She is in no state to duel. Any additional trauma, and her condition will become exponentially worse.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Lucky coolly replied. “You may leave the stage.”
The doctor hesitated, rocking back on his legs but not departing. “Sir, permanent damage could occur. And given the severity of her previous injuries-”
“Thank you, doctor,” he repeated.
The doctor’s words were caught in his throat. His mouth seemed to twitch as he thought about pursuing the matter, but he thought better of it. Cross gave him one last wary look, before hopping off the stage.
Seeing the doctor gone, Crumble approached him. “Lucky,” Crumble muttered, keeping his voice low to avoid eavesdropping. “What’re yeh doin’?”
Lucky shifted his shoulders and rolled his neck. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he responded lifelessly.
“It looks like yer about to make a big mistake, lad. It looks like yer overreactin’. But that’s jus’ me. What do you think?”
He made no reply.
Crumble walked beside him, and threw his arm over Lucky’s shoulders. “Listen, lad, why don’t yeh just put the blade down, an’ we’ll talk. There’s no shame in-”
Lucky pivoted in place, forcefully threw Crumble’s arm off, and shoved him away. Crumble stumbled backwards. He was in control of his balance, but looking at his bewildered expression, it was impossible to tell.
Lucky stomped a hoof on the wood. “Get off this stage. Now.”
“Lad, I-”
“Now.”
He did not move.
Lucky glared at him. “That is an order.”
Crumble stood still for another second, before his hooves began to move, slow and mechanical. His gaze was trained on Lucky, not with anger or contempt, but confused curiosity. He walked past Lucky on his way off, and leaned towards him, muttering into his torn left ear.
“Jus’ don’t break anythin’.”
Lucky’s ear twitched at the sound.
“I’ll return the favor sevenfold, I swear it.”
He gave no reaction.
Crumble gave one last concerned glance at Celestia, before deploying his wings and taking to the air, landing on the outskirts of the crowd. Her eyes followed his arc through the sky, but became distracted by something else entirely. A tiny shout pierced the air.
“Waaaaaait!” Cotton, propelled by a twister of her own magic, flew over the fence, spiraling in midair. She hit the ground with a thud, facing the wrong direction. Immediately, she rose to her hooves, shook her head, and spun around, galloping towards the ring.
“Don’t hurt her!” she yelled, charging across the yard. “You big meanie, don’t you dare hurt her! Don’t you touch a single hair on her head!”
She reached the edge of the crowd of soldiers, and was met by a green earth pony, with a hoof outstretched. Cotton tried to dodge and feint around him, but he would not allow it. She dove left, and her motion stopped as Captain Garde easily caught the small unicorn, preventing her from moving any further. His own momentum was relatively unaffected, and Cotton wriggled ineffectually in his grasp.
“Let me go, let me go! I’ll kick his flank!” Her hooves waved forward towards a dueling ring she would never reach. “Grrr! He’s just cruisin’ for a bruisin’! I’ll... I’m gonna-!”
“Stand down,” Lucky called, just loud enough for her Cotton to hear.
“You’re not the boss of me!”
Lucky glared at her. She glared right back. Seeking to defuse the tension between them, the captain set her down, and sat back on his haunches, blocking Cotton’s view of Lucky. Keeping his grip on her, he spoke to her in quiet tones. Cotton’s fury seemed lessened, if only a little.
Lucky looked towards Lance Corporal Allez.
She set her hooves on the ring and raised herself above the crowd. “Commander?”
“One more match.”
She hesitated, only for a moment. “...Yes, sir.” She cleared her throat. “Combatants… are you ready?” The way she said it, it was less announced, and more a genuine question, directed at one of the participants more than the other.
Lucky Break forewent his usual careful examination, instead immediately throwing his sword into his mouth, biting down, and nodding towards Allez.
Celestia looked around. The crowd was no longer cheering, and they certainly were not smiling. Even Cotton had lost her resolve; she sat motionless, still lightly held in Captain Garde’s grasp and helplessly gazing at her with concern, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Mutters ran through the crowd, many ponies speculating upon the sanity of either the mare who dared to fight again, or the stallion who seemed mad enough to beat her senseless.
Celestia put her sword in her mouth, and yelped as she tried to clamp down. Her jaw, she realized, was in terrible pain. She put her hoof to her mouth and gingerly pressed down on her teeth. She could hardly stand doing that, let alone putting a cloth-wrapped hilt attached to a heavy metal blade in her mouth, let alone dueling with it. Oh, what was the point? She was only prolonging the inevitable!
And then, she remembered something. Or rather, she almost remembered something. Her ears rang, and her vision swam, and she felt herself slipping…
**********
Just listen.
to what?
To me.
to you …who are you…?
Yes. You are an excellent listener, did you know? It’s too bad you cannot simply stay focused.
…
you say nothing
Not yet. Don’t worry. I will.
**********
“Celestia.”
She shook her head. No, she could not remember.
“Celestia,” Allez said, concern in her tone. “Are you ready?”
Celestia looked at her sword in dismay.
Use your mouth.
Hesitantly, she put the hilt in her mouth, cringing as a lightning bolt of pain shot through her jaw.
Ignore it.
She ignored it. Crouching into a stance she now knew to be the “Rising Sun”, she cocked her head back, and looked towards Allez.
No. Loosen up.
Celestia looked away, raising a confused eyebrow. Something did not feel right. She let her jaw fall a little slacker than it had been. There, that was better. She nodded her consent to the Lance Corporal.
Allez nodded back, but did not say anything. She turned back to the crowd, consulting with her brother, Captain Garde, in hushed tones. Her hooves made subdued, frantic gestures towards Celestia and Lucky, and her mouth spoke at a million miles per minute. Garde’s responses were slow and deliberate, but he seemed no less concerned for it. Lucky cast them an annoyed glance.
“Allez!” he shouted.
She turned and, in what seemed like a split second decision, shouted back at the top of her lungs.
“Go!!”
Lucky darted forward with lightning speed. Celestia flinched, not at the speed of his rush, but at the bloodlust in his eyes. She closed her eyes and prepared herself for the worst.
Well, don’t just stand there.
Celestia opened her eyes. Lucky’s attack was incoming.
Raise your sword.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Victory.
There was a great metallic clang. Celestia’s eyes widened in surprise, but not more than Lucky’s did. At the last second, in an impossible maneuver, she had brought her head up, and stopped his sword cold. The two blunted blades were still pressed together, still ringing. The vibrations traveled up the metal and into the ears of the ponies wielding them, singing to them a song of perseverance neither ever thought they would hear. The sound echoed throughout the courtyard, seeming to bear divine testament to a miracle that everypony could see, and nopony could believe. The alicorn, two seconds into the match, was still standing, and still alive. The gods still favored ponykind, it would seem. Or maybe this was one of their angels.
Lucky would have none of it. He rocked back, and attacked on the other side. Celestia shifted the sword in her mouth to match his, and blocked it again. Another miraculous vibration rang through the air. And now, it was three seconds.
He immediately withdrew to the edge of the ring, scowling at his opponent. They circled each other, slowly changing places on the ring. He regarded her with suspicion, looking for any sort of change. Celestia’s head was low, and her eyes were high, but beneath her muzzle, he saw it. Though warped by the sword in her mouth and trembling with the horrible pain in her jaw, there was no mistaking the smug half-grin that ever so slightly adorned her features. Lucky’s hard gaze lost some of its fury.
Celestia saw her chance, and leapt forward to attack, giving a powerful, rising strike. Lucky responded with a quick deflection, and returned with an attack to the neck. Celestia craned her head back, simultaneously spitting her sword into her hoof and thrusting forward. Lucky sidestepped it, and grabbed her swordhoof in an attempt to disarm her. Surprising him, she brought her free hoof up, stepped closer, and punched him in the gut. His eyes widened, and he shook himself free, and jumped back. Making contact with anything but a sword was did not count, and so it was not technically a hit, but was all the more surprising for it.
The crowd took notice, and muttered animatedly amongst themselves, asking each other, “Did you see that?” Which, of course, everypony did.
Refusing to miss a beat, Lucky dashed forward again, and swung forward with both hooves. Celestia ducked under it, and returned the favor with a rising strike. Lucky twisted out of the way, but he felt the blade brush past his short, orange mane. Again, it was still not technically a hit.
They went back and forth, following a pattern as old as time, dancing to a dangerous rhythm until their coats positively glistened with sweat. It was beautiful, thought many of the spectators, in the same way a hunting predator was beautiful. Dangerous, deadly, and nopony wished to be in the place of the prey; but beautiful nonetheless.
They had been fighting for a full minute, and neither showed signs of stopping. The interludes between their frantic swordplay were few and far between. Lucky took a sweeping, horizontal swipe, swinging his neck too far and overextending himself, if only by a little. Celestia’s eyes widened, and the world slowed to travel at a snail’s pace. She saw her chance. Sword in mouth, she pushed off of the ground with all four hooves, twisting herself into the air. She spiraled over Lucky’s attack, barrel rolling in midair. She was completely upside down when his blade came, only an inch of clearance between her and the steel. She landed, with her back left hoof first, and then her back right, and then her two front. She twisted her neck, conserving the momentum of her enormous movement and lashing out at Lucky with a similar, horizontal attack. It collided with something. The world sped up, and both combatants jumped back.
It was several seconds before anypony said anything, but when they did, it was clear. Quiet and dumbfounded, but very, very clear. Allez opened her mouth.
“Hit.”
Lucky’s gaze dropped. He lifted a hoof, and looked at it in disbelief. There was, behind the fur on his left foreleg, a nascent bruise, tender and red.
Celestia was ready for another attack, but did not receive it. He just stood there, twisting his arm back and forth, eyeing it as incredulously and disbelieving as if it had been a second head. She stomped her hoof to the ground and huffed, hoping to gain his attention. She did. He looked up, and his scowl was gone. Replaced by…
Celestia did not have time to see, as he suddenly charged at her. She raised her sword to parry his swing, but he did not attack as harshly as she expected him to. Instead, it was a light swing, almost a feint, followed by a bull rush, not stopping his charging momentum. His shoulder met her chest, and he dropped his sword, wrapping his arms around her in a reckless tackle. Taken completely by surprise, Celestia had no time to recover, and certainly no time to counter. She felt her hooves leave the wood, and the both of them became airborne, flying off the platform and into a hastily created opening amongst the spectators below.
“Ring out!”
Celestia wheezed as she hit the ground below, back first. She shut her eyes as she tumbled, hopelessly entangled in the arms of another pony. Eventually, she stopped on her back, belly up. Her arms and legs lay lifelessly at her side. Her sword was gone, Celestia having lost her grip on it in midair. She opened her eyes to a squint. Not-quite-standing above her was Lucky Break. His hooves were on either side of her, trapping her on the ground. His head hung exhausted next to hers, his panting breath only inches away from her ear.
“Illegal physical contact. Lucky Break is disqualified… Celestia wins.”
He raised his head, and looked at her, completely oblivious to the awed reaction of the crowd. He wore a scowl, but it was not angry, only confused, and searching.
“Beginner’s luck,” he breathed.
Celestia wondered if it was a statement, or a question. Her response was hoarse and airy.
“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Rummy?”
You would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Rummy?
His breath caught. He wore an expression she had never seen him wear. It looked so foreign to her, and yet, if anypony wore it well, it was Lucky. Funny that Celestia did not know quite what it was. Hope, maybe?
His mouth moved, voicing what might have been a question, but she did not hear it. He maneuvered off of her, as gently as he could, and extended a helping hoof towards her. She weakly raised an arm in response, but could not get it more than a foot off the ground before it fell lamely back to her side. Her vision closed to a pinhole, and she felt herself slipping.
Well done.