Thirty or so minutes later, four sopping wet ponies entered the spacious antechamber before the great hall of Duke Bell's Castle. Upon their arrival, a blue stallion had graciously told them to stay put, and quickly fetched them all blankets.
Gathering around the rightmost of two large copper fireplaces embedded in the far wall, the four started making themselves comfortable. Thistle immediately went about making himself a blanket nest of sorts, while Tirol and his young, accompanying guard hung their soaked tunics on a rack near the fireplace and proceeded to use the fire's heat to dry themselves as quickly as possible. Full Lance meanwhile, merely plopped onto the floor, threw his blanket over himself and began breathing in through his mouth and out through his nose at a deliberate pace.
Not much time had passed before a cloaked pony entered the antechamber, slipping in from the great hall doors. Full Lance turned to watch them as their hooves echoed down the stairs and towards the four ponies, circling behind them.
"Full Lance, eh?" The mare, Full Lance noted, had approached from behind. Staring Full Lance curiously in the eyes the whole time.
"Hm?" Full Lance murmured.
"I've been told to inform you that The Duke will be ready to see you shortly."
Full Lance nodded, wrapping his blanket around himself tightly. Towards his right, the younger guard turned and waved at the cloaked mare.
Not returning the wave, the mare stepped past Full Lance towards the front of the fireplace to address the group, "Also, I've been told that there are leftovers from lunch in the kitchen. If any of you are interested."
From the tall gothic arched windows, a brief flash lit the antechamber. It was accompanied shortly by a booming thunder, reverberating through the thick stone walls. The drumming of rain sounded on the roof and windows.
"Lunch, eh?" asked Tirol. "Knowing The Duke, probably not much more than flowers, hay and water."
The younger guard sighed. "Even the local lords eat better than that."
The cloaked mare shrugged. "There was bread, butter and cheese too --though not much else."
"I," Full Lance said, "can vouch for the local lords eating better."
No one laughed.
Thistle's stomach gurgled.
"I assume," the mare looked at Thistle, "you must be hungry. Come with me, I'll show you where the kitchen is."
Thistle curled tighter in his blanket, closing his eyes. "Too tired... to move."
That can't be good, part of Full Lance's mind distantly thought. He'd always had trouble doing things when he was cold. This time, it was worse.
"Oh," the mare put a hoof to her cloak's stone brooch. "Maybe I can fetch you some food then."
Thistle nodded in his nest. "Thank you."
Another stroke of the thunder drifted upon the antechamber.
"Hey Aleseta," said the younger guard.
"What, Berengar?" The cloaked mare pivoted towards Berengar.
"You wouldn't mind getting me something to eat as well, would you?"
Aleseta trotted up to Berengar and swatted at his ear. "You know very well I am not a messenger of goods. You can go to the kitchen yourself."
Berengar was about to retort, but Aleseta cut him off. "And I know you know where the kitchen is too."
Berengar sighed in defeat as he shed his blanket and stood up. When he did, Aleseta began trotting off towards the exit, flipping up the hood of her thick black cloak.
"You want anything, Tirol?" asked Berengar as he retrieved his green tunic from the rack in front of the fireplace.
"I'm good with anything," Tirol said.
Berengar nodded, putting his now mostly dry tunic on.
"Ah," Full Lance said, "if there's anything else left, I'll take some..."
"Alright," Berengar nodded.
He hurried towards the exit just as Aleseta opened it. They left together, the sounds of the storm gaining intensity for a moment before the door shut behind the pair of ponies. Besides the steady tide of rainfall, the crackling of the fireplaces, and the occasional thunder, a quiet pervaded the antechamber.
Full Lance gazed around the chamber, staring at the high, vaulted ceiling. Then moving down the long pale green banners, which were hung in pairs. Between every pair of banners, a tall gothic window was recessed into the wall. Candles were regularly interspersed throughout the room as were some wooden benches. Between the two large fireplaces, were the stone steps leading up to the great doors that guarded the great hall.
Full Lance looked at the two ponies to either side of him. Thistle had now thoroughly covered himself with his blanket, allowing only his muzzle to peak out. Tirol meanwhile, stared into space, eyes glazed over, mind elsewhere. Probably thinking about supply chains or something.
That made Full Lance smile slightly. The fire and blanket was starting to warm him up.
Full Lance observed the stallions' mane. It'd never been great, but he could see it was rapidly thinning over the years. Along with that, its wispyness was causing it to stand on end. Full Lance realized that his own mane was probably a mess... something Minty would likely lecture him about.
Full Lance fussed with his slightly damp mane, running his hooves through it, untangling, combing it. Full Lance was quickly consumed, stroking it with trance like motions. Full Lance's mind wandered, wandered and eventually started to drift off into a dream. He would've fallen completely asleep, if the great doors hadn't opened, heralded by a ponderous creak. A black maned attendant stuck their head out from behind one of the doors.
"Full Lance?" the mare's voice echoed softly.
"That is I," Full Lance murmured sleepily.
"Duke Bell is ready to see you now."
Full Lance calmly inhaled, then exhaled through is nose. Shaking his head slightly, Full Lance got up, and wrapped his blanket around himself kind of like a toga.
"Here I go," he said, mostly to himself.
As Full Lance trotted up towards the steps, the attendant creakily pulled the door open, allowing Full Lance in. As Full Lance set his hoof into the great hall, he spared one last look back at the antechamber. Thistle was not to be seen under his blanket, but Tirol was watching Full Lance. He gave Full Lance a hardy smile accompanied by and encouraging nod, almost as if to say, "I believe in you, Full Lance."
Full Lance mustered his best "I'm not scared at all" face, which really looked more like a "I'm going to try my best not to get executed face" face.
Full Lance turned back towards the attendant, who waited solemnly for Full Lance to cross the threshold. As full Lance did, she closed the door behind him, cutting off the light coming from the antechamber. The hall was quite dark.
Full Lance didn't move forward. It took a moment for Full Lance's eyes to adjust. The great hall was both tall and long. Many smooth stone columns rose through its entire length, reaching up to meet the vaulted ceiling above. Between the ceiling and the tops of the columns, fragrant lavender was hung in clay pots. To the left and right, the hall's walls could scarcely be seen as nearly the only light sources were the flickering candles mounted on the inner faces of the columns.
Full Lance looked towards the end of the hall. Past the dais and throne loomed an enormous stained glass window lit from the outside by occasional lightning strikes.
The design of the window was geometric. It mainly consisted of many colorful, overlapping circles. Full Lance looked closer. A starry purple field occupied the most of the window. Inside, there were two large circles taking up most of the top and bottom halves of the field. Notably the multicolored bottom circle played host to three small circles, colored red, pale green and black. Below these there was a purple circle with a white circle inside it. While it was a simple design in principle, quite a lot of detail had been poured into every edge, boundary and space. Full Lance even spotted a few mysterious symbols floating about.
Residing in front this window, Duke Bell's throne towered, perched on a hexagonal dais. The front of the throne was cloaked in shadows.
A flash of lighting caused the stained glass window to flash vividly, projecting a multitude of colors across the hall. Then, a roll of thunder echoed through the chamber. With one final look around, Full lance began trotting forward. The attendant fell in to accompany Full Lance, each of their steps ringing hollowly through the hall. It seemed like minutes before Full lance had even covered half the distance of the hall, but he did not let himself stop until he'd reached the dais. He bowed low. Hopefully this would not be the last time he would do so as a free and alive stallion.
"You highness," said the attendant her words echoing through the hall, "I present Sir Full Lance."
The attendant's voice gradually faded from the hall, replaced by the always present sounds of rain. A cold voice rose from the throne.
"You may go now, Aalis."
"As you wish," The attendant bowed, before turning off towards the shadowy edges of the hall. A rustling of fabric, the click of a door, and the attendant was gone.
Full Lance said nothing, which only seemed to emphasized his not-shaky breath. It also emphasized a sudden scraping of fabric, accompanied by hoofsteps from the throne. His forehead stuck to the ground, Full Lance could only listen as The Duke stalked around him. Full Lance fancied he feel the critical gaze bore into the back of his head. Each hoofstep cracked painfully loud in Full Lance's twitching ears. The Duke made another circle around Full Lance. Finally, silence. Then a steep inhale, and Full Lance felt The Duke lunge, even before it happened.
Full Lance hopped swiftly to the left. Over the years, he'd been taught not to assume, and Full Lance was not entirely certain this was the pony he had come to meet. Indeed, in the brief window of thought, Full Lance noticed his assailant was uncharacteristically clad in flowing beige robes and a turban.
They turned and lunged again, Full Lance once more jumped to the left. The other pony pivoted swiftly, jumping forward at Full Lance, Full Lance responded by jumped directly backwards. Unfortunately, Full Lance's blanket lagged behind him, and the assailant swiftly grabbed hold of it, and tore it off him even as Full Lance jumped to the right. The tug of the blanket caused Full Lance to fall on his slide, but he nimbly rolled up to his hooves. He found his assailant coming from his left now, already in motion, leaping with their arms spread wide in what almost looked like a hug.
Full Lance briefly thought they looked kind of silly, but nonetheless he bursted once more to the right, simultaneously spinning ninety degrees to definitively face his opponent. However as he did, he found his assailant was sprawled on the ground, arms empty of the their prey. A distinctive thump was echoing through the room.
Something in Full Lance's brain clicked. "Uh oh." As the adrenaline faded from his veins, a sense of dread replaced it. He realized there was only one pony he'd ever received a flying hug from. A pony who'd never been particularly good at assembling stylish outfits, and had always had a flare for mystique.
Slowly, a glowering pair of pale green eyes lifted from the floor, pointed straight at Full Lance.
"Oh..." Full Lance scratched the back of his mane, realizing that this was indeed The Duke Bell. The very pony he'd hoped to convince he did not need to be executed.
"Hello, Sweetie Bell..."
Sweetie Bell glared at Full lance. "It's true then," she said, her voice a few shades deeper than Full Lance remembered.
Full Lance squeaked a nervous laugh. "Yes, so about that--"
"You lied to me." Sweetie Bell stood up, marched towards Full Lance. She delivered a calculated blow to his left shoulder.
It hurt, Full Lance flinched slightly, but it wasn't crippling. It didn't cause Full Lance to fall the floor, or curl up in a debilitated ball or cry out, begging for mercy. No, Full Lance was, for the most part, completely intact.
Sweetie Bell scowled now. "This could be considered," --Sweetie Belle took a step forward, causing Full Lance to back away-- "Treason." another step. "Treachery." step. "lying." step "Insubordination." step. "And betrayal." Sweetie Bell had backed Full Lance against a pillar now. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Full Lance gulped. "First... Don't execute me?"
Sweetie Bell only frowned.
"S-second," Full Lance seemed to regain a little composure, even despite the fact he was backed half way up a wall, "I'm sorry. What I did was impulsive, selfish, and... deceiving." Full Lance smiled nervously.
"Don't you have anything else to say?"
"I should've known better, I should've thought things through more carefully, I should've looked further ahead."
Sweetie Bell raised an eyebrow.
"What more is there to say?"
Full Lance cringed internally after saying that line.
Sweetie Bell growled. "'What more is there to say?' ...WHAT MORE IS THERE TO SAY!?" Her voice cracked. She took a fuming breath, but she turned around, finally giving Full Lance space to breath. She trembled, but managed to breath deeply, calming herself. "For starters, how about, 'It's not your fault, Sweetie Bell. Or maybe, 'I was wrong, Sweetie Bell.' Or perhaps, 'I'd never do it again, Sweetie Bell.'" She sighed. "And how about, 'What can I do to make things better again, Sweetie Bell?'"
Full Lance sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."
Sweetie Bell frowned vehemently, she reeled back, preparing another blow.
Full Lance did nothing to stop her, he merely braced himself for the impact.
Sweetie Bell swung her hoof! But she stopped it at the last moment, resulting in little more than a soft wack. Sweetie Bell seemed to deflate, the anger draining from her eyes, replaced by sadness.
"...You knew then," Full Lance said.
Lightning flashed through the stained glass window. Thunder rumbled once more through the chamber. For a space, neither pony spoke.
"How long..." Full Lance approached Sweetie Bell slightly. "How long did you know I faked the break?"
Sweetie Bell sighed. "Since the beginning."
"Oh...?"
Sweetie Bell shook her head again. "And your acting was terrible. Even Ivan caught on." Sweetie Bell ascended the dais, to her throne, propping her cheek on her hoof. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that you needed it... I thought it'd be okay for everyone."
"It was okay, wasn't it?"
"You don't get it." Sweetie Bell ran a hoof across her robe and sighed. "I wasn't okay. Back then, you were always there for me. You had my back, you supported me no matter what. You helped me get through trouble, you helped me understand things, and told me when and how I did things wrong, even against your better judgement... I thought you knew that, until..."
"Until I made you let me leave," Full Lance realized. "I was like... Rarity."
Sweetie Bell frowned. "I thought that I could give you your Canterlot boutique. But,"
Full Lance shook his head. "You weren't ready yet."
Sweetie Bell's nostrils flared, she shook her head. "I was as ready as I could be."
"...You still had Galian, Bernhard, Tirol, the rest of the gang. And the other crusaders and Twilight at your side. And you could've called me back at any time."
Sweetie Bell nodded. "I wish," her voiced cracked, just like it did when she was a foal. "I wish I had realized earlier I could've had you by my side too."
Something in the room creaked distantly. Thunder rolled through the hall, the rain continued, softening slightly.
Full Lance sighed, standing at the base of the dais. "I'm sorry, Sweetie Bell. I'm so sorry... If I had realized how important I was to you... I would've talked to you. It was my choice, and I..." A multitude of wordings ran through Full Lance's head, but ultimately he realized: "I should've thought about you. I should've considered the situation holistically."
Sweetie bell shifted in her seat, ultimately turning sideways, resting somewhere between laying down and slouching. She sighed, eyes melancholy.
Full Lance stepped up onto the dais and affectionately patted Sweetie Bell's... turban. Sweetie Bell brushed his hoof away, sighed, then reached both hooves towards Full Lance. Full Lance recognized the gesture, and they embraced in a sort of sideways hug over the arm of the throne. Full Lance noticed that Sweetie Bell had gotten quite a lot bigger since the last time he had seen her. Sweetie Bell breathed steadily in and steadily out, holding Full Lance tightly. They stayed like this for a calming set of minutes, just breathing...
Then, in unspoken agreement, they both realized how terribly uncomfortable hugging while bending sideways over the arm of a chair was.
"Oh," Full Lance winced as he cracked his vertebrae.
"Ow," said Sweetie, rubbing her side that had been in contact with the arm of the throne.
"I suppose," Full Lance said, finding no other way to broach the subject, "my execution is in order. Just give me the date and time, and I'll be there."
"Oh, Full Lance," Sweetie Bell said stretching upwards, "I'm not going to have you executed."
"Oh, thank goodness," Full Lance sighed, turning to face the rest of the hall.
"Hmm," Sweetie Bell smiled, "I have something much worse planned for you."
"Ohoho," Full Lance said chuckled nervously. "You truly have grown up: you're... already issuing punishments worse than death." Full Lance was sweating.
Sweetie Bell snickered, shaking her head.
"Still," Full Lance said, putting aside the unconfirmed threat of possible death, "you've grown a lot. Even, filled out. I almost didn't recognize you."
"My training has helped alot in that department." Sweetie Bell pulled back a sleeve of her robe and flexed, exposing impressively toned muscle. She looked back at Full Lance, raising an eyebrow. "But where's that scruffy beard of yours? And your hair is... kempt for once."
"Mmm, yes. Minty is to blame for that. I believe you met her once."
"Mint Simmer, the power hungry mare who singlehoofedly kept that manor of yours from falling apart?"
Full Lance nodded.
"...The mare who now competes for your heart in love?"
Full Lance was taken aback. "My heart in love? Where did you hear this?!"
Sweetie Bell laughed furtively, then shook her head. "Gabby Gums," she said referring to one her last sets of hijinks in Equestria.
Full Lance mulled this over in his mind. Eventually, he found the parallel. "Primrose?"
"Yes." She sighed. "After you stopped our letter correspondence, I still needed to keep tabs on you after all."
"Ah," Full Lance said grimly, "that would explain some things."
"Still, I'm happy you're together with someone, Full Lance." Sweetie Bell smiled at him.
"Together?" Full Lance looked confused.
"Oh no, don't tell me you're not...?"
"Not what?"
"Full Lance," Sweetie Bell shook her head. "Clueless."
The conversation started up again, then wandered on, washing over many bits of the mundainities of life: the running of a duchy and a manor. A long diatribe about dealing with ponies of all classes, dealing with famine, nobles, the many good fiends and new enemies Full Lance and Sweetie Bell had made alike. Eventually the conversation came to the exploits and antics of the other crusaders, each of whom were running territories of their own now. Sweetie Bell alluded to, many times, 'plans.' But as for what they were, Full Lance couldn't fathom.
Full Lance and Sweetie Bell eventually came to the subject of Equestria, the Equestrian ideals and the peace and harmony maintained therein. Both discussed their likes and dislikes, and possible strategies for achieving a better peace here within the Holy Roman Empire. It was indeed Equestria that inspired the school on the east edge of the market square.
Full Lance had already discussed Sweetie Bell's childhood to death with her. But even so, Full Lance never seemed to loose interest, so stories were retold. Nostalgia mingled with wisdom and new perspectives were brought to light. Full Lance was especially interested in anything to do with books, weapons, or "old things." Unfortunately those three things were very sparse in Sweetie Bell's childhood. Sweetie Bell's usual response would've been to send Full Lance over to Twilight, but she was out of commission right now, as she often was.
Full Lance made Sweetie Bell promise to schedule a chat for the next time Full Lance visited, because Full Lance insisted that he must before he was executed.
Sweetie Bell manged to push the conversation back to Full Lance, and inevitably Full Lance had to discuss the events leading to his arrival at Sweetie Bell's Castle. The conversation took an unexpected detour as Sweetie Bell showed strange interest in Nova. Sweetie Bell and Full Lance both agreed the foal knew how to make an impression.
Then conversation turned to Thistle and his antics. The boy seemed to have a knack for being where he wasn't supposed to be, but it was clear Full Lance cared deeply about him. Sweetie Bell pointed out that Full Lance really ought to be doing more to train Thistle for squirehood, and someday even knighthood. Full Lance was reluctant to admit that Sweetie Bell was probably right, but Sweetie Bell didn't let the matter drop.
"This world, this country, and this duchy aren't like Equestria. They'll never be like Equestria. But Thistle has a strong heart and a good moral compass. That's more than I can say for many members of the nobility." She gave a stern look at Full Lance. "The world needs ponies like him. It needs ponies who see other ponies for who they are, not where they were born. Ponies who act with honor instead of self interest. Ponies who look out for and protect other ponies."
Sweetie Bell sighed and fussed with her robe. "And I especially need ponies like that. I may have a duchy and all its resources, but if it's rotting on the inside because the nobility is corrupt and the ponies who'd do something to stop don't have any agency?" She shrugged. "You and I know it's not an easy thing to solve."
Full Lance sighed mutely, nodding. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"
"I have to, now."
Full Lance leaned forward towards Sweetie Bell, putting a hoof on her shoulder. Suddenly, she looked so tired. The youthful sparkle in her eyes was dulled, worn down by the gnawing of worry and weight of an ultimatum.
"Sweetie Bell," Full Lance said warmly. "I don't know the future. Nor will I ever. But," he yawned, "I know you, and I know this duchy. It's not a delicate flower that will die if a fowl wind hits it." He shook his head. "It's an old sword, passed down through generations. It's served on many battle fields and through many wars. Yes it needs to be taken care of, yes it needs to be sharpened. Rust will destroy it, and no you can't let it sit at the bottom of a lake.
"But in the end, it's more robust than you might think. The ponies here, they're all very robust folk. They have to be in order to survive. The winters are cold and long..." Full Lance trailed off. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, you shouldn't worry so much, Sweetie Bell. Everything is going to keep going, and ponies will keep on living. As long as we keep doing our best, and things keep improving, we'll be okay."
"But what about if things stop improving?"
Full Lance chuckled and shrugged. "I guess we'll have to start again."
"Ugh," Sweetie Bell said, a slight smile touching her lips. "I hope not."
"Indeed," Full Lance agreed.
Eventually the conversation began again, but after what scarcely seemed like any time at all to Full Lance and Sweetie Bell, a black maned attendant entered the hall, crossing the distance to the throne.
"Duke Bell?" the mare asked, tapping Bell's shoulder.
"Aalis," Bell said, breaking away from conversation with Full Lance who had been seated on a chair next to Sweetie Bell with several spent candles scattered between the two. The other candles in the hall had died out long ago. "Didn't I tell you that no one was to interrupt my meeting here?"
"You did sir," the attendant nodded, her long black hair bobbing, "however it is my understanding that you were planning to host council and breakfast with your knights quite early in the morning, at six in fact, and simply..." the attendant raised an eyebrow.
"Please, Aalis," Sweetie Bell dismissed, "It can't be past eleven, I'll be fine."
"Duke bell," said Aalis, "it is one thirty. In the morning."
Sweetie Bell yawned. "You're joking."
"No, actually."
"Truly?" asked Full Lance.
"I'm certain," Aalis nodded, fixing a mildly annoyed glare at the middle distance.
Sweetie Bell turned to stare at Full Lance.
Full Lance stared back somberly, sighing. "I'd hate to make you late for that meeting."
Sweetie Bell Sighed, eyes softening. "Me too. Guess It's time to call it a night."
"When should we meet again?" Full Lance asked.
"Hm," Sweetie Bell rubbed her chin with a fetlock. "Around six I think."
"What? But that's when you're having your meeting."
Sweetie Bell chuckled. "Your reign of excuses is over Full Lance. You are one of my knights, you will be coming to my meeting. Am I not right?" she batted her eyes.
Full Lance sighed, though it was mostly for show. "Yes, Sweetie Bell."
"That's Duke bell," said Sweetie, standing up and kicking her robes behind her.
Aalis stepped forward. "Shall I make ready quarters for your guests, Duke?"
"You haven't already?" Sweetie asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Thistle disappeared. Last he was seen was in the kitchen hours ago."
Sweetie Bell raised her eyebrows again, at Full Lance this time.
He cleared his throat before speaking. "I'll find him, don't worry."
Sweetie bell nodded. "Well, your quarters will be in the lower guest wing. I trust you remember how to get there?"
"Of course," Full Lance nodded.
"Good. When you get there, Aalis will guide you to your room."
And with that, Sweetie Bell and Aalis disappeared behind a banner at the back end of the hall, taking a unseen passage.
"Oh joy," Full Lance said to himself as he regathered his wits.
Knowing Thistle, he may have simply found a corner in the antechamber no one had thought to check and went to bed, or he could be completely lost in some remote passage of the castle that even Sweetie Bell didn't know about.
Full Lance was about to exit the hall to search when he heard a rustling noise --almost too faint to make out-- directly behind him.
Full Lance didn't stop until he'd reached the great double door. Then at the last possibly moment as he reached for the handle, he spun around and found--
"Thistle!"