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// 3: A Pact and a Narrow Escape 
// Story: Lost in Translation: Snowblind 
// by Cyanblackstone 
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Guardspeak, usually simply called “cant,” is another unique feature of the Crystal Empire: in order to quickly educate recruits from the outer reaches of the Empire and keep secrecy in Guard matters, a simple language of half-vocal cues, half-body movement was developed at some point centuries ago, and refined ever since. Attempts to study it have been stymied by the Guard’s secretive nature and the fact that the original variant was developed by a guardspony to begin with.

Recruits take an oath of silence on the matter, retaining its usefulness for small outfits in the frontier reaches. Several scholars attempting to study it have come to unfortunate ends, and disaffected retirees from the force tend to live short, isolated lives. For now, the dangers of attempting its study have persuaded most to steer clear—just as the Guard intends.




Rosetta woke with a start to a hoof over their mouth, and as their horn flashed in instinctive panic, a tap on it broke their concentration painfully. “Shhhhh…” the owner of the hoof whispered. “I mean no harm.”

Cautiously, Rosetta lit a light spell, dimly illuminating the dirty forge. Snowhoof blinked, adjusting her eyes, and removed her hoof. “Good lass,” she murmured. “It’s time to get you moving on from the Vale ‘fore the dawn breaks.”

Rosetta whispered back, “Is that a threat?”

“Heavens no, but what do you think those Guards outside are going to do once they’ve slept on it and finished caring for their singed friend? They’re going to blame an outsider—you. And at least some of the homesteads will go along with them.” Snowhoof grimaced. “It’s been a long while since the last lynching here and I aim to keep it that way. I’m taking you south.”

“I can defend myself,” Rosetta returned, and Snowhoof shook her head, mane splaying out over her face.

“Maybe you can, but against seven guards your chances are close t’zero, and you know it.”

Rosetta grimaced. “Damn,” she cursed. “You’re right, but I can’t just leave with my job unfinished. I’d never get funding for another expedition again.”

“Can’t do any more expeditioning if you’re dead,” Snowhoof countered.

Hanging their head, Rosetta sighed. “True.” For a moment they cast about for something—anything—to dispel the cruel logic of the mountain mare, and had a flash of brilliance.

“If we make a detour before heading south, I won’t need to ask for funding again,” they told Snowhoof. “That meteor yesterday? I tracked its course. It can’t have landed more than a day or two northeast of here, and filling your saddlebags with meteoric iron is enough money to buy your own barony. More, even.”

Snowhoof’s eyes lit. “Sky steel, we call it, and you’re not wrong. You’ve got a deal. We’ll split it 75-25, aye?”

“50-50,” Rosetta countered.

“That’s no fair deal, and you know it. I wager I could find it ‘fore the season’s out on my own. You’re here to point the way, and nothing more. Two-to-one.”

“You’ve got a deal,” Rosetta replied, bumping hooves softly.

“Perfect.” There was a small pause. “What’s your name anyway, lass?”

“Rosetta,” they offered.

“I’m Snowhoof, but I wager Fuller’s told you my name already if you’ve been in town more than a few minutes.” She smiled. “He get to telling you about any of my experiences? He’ll have called ‘em ‘tall tales,’ though.” 

Rosetta shook their head. “Your order and then the meteor cut him short,” they replied.

Snowhoof’s ears flicked, then swiveled to the door. “Cant,” she muttered with a curse. “They’re coming for you afore you can leave with the dawn.” Throwing a hoof around Rosetta’s shoulder, she towed them over to one of the cluttered smithy tables. “Lie down, quick,” she hissed.

Rosetta didn’t have time to even settle fully onto their barrel before the wind was knocked out of them by Snowhoof flopping on top of them. The much larger pony nearly completely covered them in choking, shaggy fur, and a carefully-placed mane and tail flip drowned Rosetta’s face and rear hooves in light grey hair. Miming sleep, she slumped over and closed her eyes. Underneath the crystal pony, Rosetta could barely hear and was completely blind; they focused on breathing softly and not sneezing as the mountain mare’s mane tickled their snout.

Snowhoof’s haste proved wise, as only moments after drowning Rosetta in fur the door carefully creaked open.   Quiet hoofsteps passed by Snowhoof, doing a quick once-around of the small smithy. A doorknob turned, but then, apparently thinking better, the guard released their grip without disturbing Fuller’s bedroom. They repeated their once over, and finding no sign of Rosetta except a discarded blanket, softly muttered an unintelligible curse.

The guard retreated back outside, and muffled cant conversation filtered through Rosetta’s furry prison. Even as the conversation faded, Snowhoof didn’t move. Not daring to complain, Rosetta lay there, and after several long minutes, finally her weight shifted and Rosetta took a welcome breath of fresh air.

Muzzle wrinkling, they stifled a sneeze. Snowhoof turned to face Rosetta, hoof over her lips. “We’ll wait for sunrise,” Snowhoof whispered. “By that point they’ll be out of the valley trying to find your trail before you get far. They can outpace the both of us in distance marching, so we need the extra time for them to go off on their wild goose chase.

Rosetta nodded. Snowhoof continued, “We’ll need to make a stop at my cabin first to grab a sled. I aim to take as much sky steel as we can find, whether that’s one pound or a thousand.”

Both of them lost focus as they thought of the unimaginable wealth their share of a thousand pounds of meteoric iron would bring them. Spending their time waiting inside the dark smithy occupied with daydreams was as productive as anything else, and the subject promised endless entertainment imagining castles, mansions, and endless luxury.

Finally, as light began to creep through the shutters, the two made their escape. Snowhoof peered out the door, checking for left-behind lookouts, and after seeing none, Rosetta followed her out into the dawn. Snowhoof set off along a footpath to the northwest, the linguist following closely behind as they left Emerald Vale behind them.