//------------------------------//
// Castle Town Exploits: Part 3 
// Story: Full Lance & The Holy Roman Empire 
// by Merallakos 
//------------------------------//

The inside of The Wyrven's Wagon...
Was surprisingly homey. As the door closed behind Thistle and a now un-carted Full Lance, they were greeted by a pleasant warmth emanating from a crackling hearth sitting against the back wall. A healthy amount of light was shed by lanterns hung from the exposed wooden joists. Most of the wall space on the right side of the room was taken by five tables. Two more tables occupied the center of the room, and a single table was positioned against the back wall to the left. The walls themselves were freshly plastered and painted in a lavish shade of blue, contrasting wonderfully with regularly spaced red and white cloth banners. Occupying a fair chunk of space on the left side of the room, was a wooden bar, flanked by stairs leading both up and down. Comfortably nestled within the bar was an exposed kitchen.
However, the ponies inside the kitchen were not so at peace.
"Edward," said a stout voice from a stout pony.
"Yes?" rasped a pony missing a chunk of their right ear.
"What, is the bread dough doing in the oven?" the stout pony gestured at the oven.
"It's cooking," Edward said in a slight accent.
"I told you it needs to rise for ten to twelve hours first."
"You told me it needed to be baked."
"Yes," said the stout stallion, exasperated, "after it had risen! And after it had risen, it would still need to be kneaded, before it rose again!"
"Oh," Edward stared down at the unrisen dough in the oven. "If we pull it out now, perhaps we can salvage it."
"Oh no," the stout one shook his head, "the most use you'll get out of that thing now is as fuel for the fire."
Edward paused, mouth working silently. "...So before I ruined the bread, you were about to teach me the 'finer art' of pickling onions."
The stout one shook his head, "Edward, I think you've learned enough about baking for one day."
Nova chuckled as they pulled a few stools up for Full Lance Thistle at the bar. "They do this every day," Nova said, taking a seat at the bar.
"Every day?" Thistle asked, taking the stool to Nova's immediate left.
'Uh, not every day, but most days recently," Nova said as the two continued to bicker.
"Hm," said Full Lance as he took a stool beside Thistle, observing the conflict.
"So Wilhem," Edward stated raspilly at the stout stallion, "you're sure you won't teach me pickling today?"
"No, not today," Wilhem returned. "Maybe tomorrow, after you've internalized your lesson about bread." Wilhem turned away. "If you need me, I'll be in the basement."
Edward sighed as Wilhem exited through a gate in the counter, towards the stairs. "Just a moment," Edward said towards Full Lance, Thistle and Nova, "I'll be with you quickly." Edward quickly removed the dough from the oven, dumping it in a clay pot. He proceeded to to put away all the ingredients currently out, which wasn't much, and quickly trotted to the bar. "Nomen, you're back, and with company I see."
"That's right," Nova said, "I made some new friends: Full Lance and Thistle."
"That's wonderful," Edward said. "I'm Edward, Nomen's uncle," her reached over the bar to shake Full Lance and Thistle's hooves. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintances, Full Lance and Thistle. Is there anything I can do for you today?"
"Actually, Nova," Full Lance gestured over the bar to Nova, "h-- they notified us that you were having a grain problem."
"They?" rasped Edward, turning towards Nova. "Is there someone else here?"
"They," stated Thistle pointing at Nova. "As in... he, she, they?"
"Oh no," Edward grinned. "What are you doing to these poor ponies, Nova? First you come back with a new name, now you're confusing them as to whether you're a colt or a filly?
"Hey, they couldn't tell so," Nova shrugged, "why should I stop them?"
"You know, Nova," Edward said. "Centuries from now, ponies are going to start deciding they don't belong to either gender, and they'll be rather offended at your flagrant irreverence for their choice."
"Meh."
"Aheheheh," Edward breathed out a laugh. "So be it. It's a good thing these ponies seem to be so accepting, otherwise I'd imagine you'd get a beating."
"So wait," said Thistle, "what's Nova's actual gender?"
Edward smiled, "I'm afraid I can't say anymore."
"Aw," Thistle frowned.
Meanwhile Nova smiled mischievously.
"Uh, Edward?" Full Lance asked. "According to Nova, you've purchased a large amount of cereal?"
"That's right," Edward said. "Oats, to be precise. They're... very low quality."
"I may be able to trade you your oats for an assortment of other, higher quality grains and hay," Full Lance stated.
"Hmmm," Edward tapped his chin. "I'd wager you'll want to see my stocks before you make such a decision."
Thistle's eyes glazed over.
"Yes," Full Lance nodded.
Nova noticed thistle's boredom.
"Well," Edward hopped over the bar, heading towards the stairs. "Follow me into the basement, I'll show you what I have."
"...That doesn't sound shady at all." Full Lance began trotting around the bar to Edward.
Edward laughed a raspy but wholehearted laugh, "I assure you, it's mostly legitimate."
Before Full Lance had a chance to progress the conversation, Nova had hopped off their stool. "Hey," Nova preemptively interrupted.
"What?" asked Full Lance, turning around. 
"Uh," Nova said. "Before you leave, would you mind if I showed Thistle around Castletown a bit?"
Upon hearing his name, Thistle perked out of his stupor, blinking between Full Lance and Nova.
Full Lance looked at Thistle, "Thistle, do you mind if Nova shows you around Castletown?"
"You're okay with that?" Thistle asked, his brain processing. His eyes widened as he realized Full Lance was willfully letting him leave his sight, rather than forcing him to sit through an entire session of bartering. Thistle leapt off his stool. "I'd love to see more of Castletown with Nova!" 
Edward raised an eyebrow curiously, but did nothing to interrupt.
Full Lance held a hoof out towards thistle. "Before you can leave, I have two conditions: first, don't go too far, and second, don't get into to trouble."
"I can do that!" Thistle assured.
"Don't worry about Thistle," Nova assured. "I have a sixth sense for when my uncle's deals are done. We'll be back right when you need us."
"I will expect nothing less." Full Lance nodded at Nova.
"Oh, Nova," Edward said, "I know you have a knack for stealth, but remember not all other ponies are so capable without practice."
"Heh," Nova said, beginning to trot towards the door, "Thistle's more capable than he looks."
"Thank you," Thistle said, following Nova. "So, where are we going first?"
"Why," Nova said opening the front door, "to the roof, of course!"
"Awesome!"
After holding the door open for Thistle, Nova winked at Full Lance. Nova exited with a nimble sidestep, the door hardly even creaking as it settled back into its closed position.
"Interesting," Edward remarked. "I guess it's time for business now."
"Ah yes, the oats." Full Lance trotted up to Edward. "Lead the way."
Edward nodded respectfully. "To the oat vault!," he said, resuming his trot. 
"Deus vult!" Full lance fell in beside Edward.
"Oh?" Edward asked "I didn't peg you as a fan of the crusades."
"Oh no, I'm quite the opposite."
"Heh, so are you pony of the cloth then?"
Full Lance shrugged, slightly embarrassed, as he followed Edward down the stairs. "I just like Latin is all."
Edward scratched behind his head, smiling slightly. "So, just why is it you're trading cereal, Full Lance? It seems rather unusual"
"How so?"
"Wheat, barely, rye, oats," Edward's good ear twitched, "what exactly are you trying to get from this exchange?"
"Dry grain," Full Lance said simply.
"Yours is... What, wet or something?"
Full Lance nodded. "Moist actually. It's a long story."





It was a fair deal of story telling, speculating, lifting and a surprisingly little amount of bartering before Full Lance had finally completed his quest for un-moist grain. He stood outside the decrepit exterior of the Wyrvern's Wagon once more, shouldering the yoke of a cart full of... Well, at least it was dry food. 
"I hope those oats treat you well, Full Lance," rasped Edward, patting Full Lance on the back. "Are you sure that you don't want to stay the night? It'd be free of charge! I owe you one."
"Unfortunately, I need to be going now if I want to make it back before nightfall. But before I can go..." Full Lance took a deep breath, "Thistle?!"
All was silent except for the cawing birds. Full Lance was about to call again when scuffling hooves sounded in the distance. The sound momentarily stopped. But suddenly resumed followed by a series of increasingly closer sounding thuds as Nova, followed shortly by Thistle, jumped down a complicated mess of roofs and ledges spread through a nearby ally. Within hardly any time at all, both foals had reached street level, briskly trotting towards Full Lance and Edward.
"I'm right here, sir!" Thistle announced. 
"Just as promised." Nova nodded smugly.
Thistle frowned. "Is it time to leave already?"
"Unfortunately, it is," Full Lance shook his head. "Honestly I kinda want to stay here too, but..." Full Lance paused, looking for excuses, "Minty still needs to lecture you."
"Ugh, it's a bad omen that you'd start with that reason, you know."
"Minty?" Nova asked.
"A tyrant," stated Thistle darkly. "The only thing that offsets her cruelty is her cooking."
Full Lance chuckled. "She isn't that cruel. That's her way of communicating with other ponies."
"No," Thistle stated.
Full Lance rolled his eyes. "Well, we have to go now, whether you like or not."
Thistle sighed, and turned to Nova. "I guess this goodbye then?"
"You'll come back," Nova paused, "won't you?"
"Of course!" Thistle flinched. "If I can, that is?" Thistle looked at Full Lance questioningly.
Full nodded, then shrugged almost as if to say, "I don't see why not."
"I'll be back," Thistle confirmed.
"I'll see you then," Nova said.
Thistle nodded, "Just don't stalk us out of Castletown, okay?"
Nova giggled, "Don't worry, I won't."
"Goodbye," Full Lance said as he turned towards away from the Wyrven's wagon.
"Goodbye," waved Thistle has he began back trotting with Full Lance.
"Seeya," Nova waved, trotting to stand with Edward.
"Farewell!" Edward called.
The two groups continued to wave and call until they lost sight of each other, which wasn't very long, as the bendy streets quickly consumed any sensory contact between the two groups of ponies. 
Eventually, Full Lance and Thistle came to a cross roads. A cross roads which Full Lance did not remember in the slightest. 
Full Lance broke the silence, "Do you remember which way we came from?"
"Uh," Thistle looked around, "We came from the right."
"Is that so?" Full Lance asked.
"I'm confident," Thistle affirmed.
Full lance nodded, trotting forward, with the cart ratting along behind, and the birds --which seemed to keep perpetual residence in this piece of Castletown-- cawing ahead.
Eventually, the ivy began to thin as Full Lance and Thistle exited the deserted sector of Castletown. The minute sounds of ponies could heard in form of faint shouts from playing foals, infants crying, domestic arguments and even a few dogs barking.
Despite Thistle's best efforts, they ended up veering off course. Full Lance opted to navigate by the direction of the sun; reasoning that if they moved mostly south and somewhat west for long enough they'd come out somewhere near where they started. 
With Full Lance navigating, the duo took the most interesting route possible, gravitating towards narrow alleys, flowery side roads, and older, wilder buildings. 
Along the way they passed by many niches and through a couple covered alleys which seemed to have been made not from the space between two buildings, but from the ground floor of one building being split to accommodate a road. In one such alley, an arcade housing a couple small shops was located. Despite the fact that there was hardly enough space for Full Lance's cart to fit through the arcade, the strange shops' ponies seemed only to want Full Lance stay longer and buy their goods.
Still, it didn't take long for to duo to reach the border of the city, clearly demarcated by a clear strip of land --Full Lance called this a pomoerium-- between the urban housing and the outlying piles of stone blocks which would soon become the city walls.
As the duo crossed the boundary, unimpeded by guards, Thistle pointed at a part of the unfinished wall. "So you're telling me the wall is the pomoerium?""
Full Lance shook his head. "That is the wall. The pomoerium is the land to either side of the wall that's kept clear."
"Ah," Thistle nodded. "It's the space we walked through in order to get past the wall."
"Yes, basically. Though technically this field we're walking in is also the pomoerium. The external pomoerium to be precise."
"Ugh," Thistle rubbed his eyes, "This is a bad omen."
"What omen?"
"This?" Thistle gestured around himself.
"Thistle," Full Lance squinted at Thistle, "do you know what an omen is?"
"Some sort of... uh, bad thing?"
"An omen is something that forewarns of a good or bad event."
"That's pretty much what I said." Thistle nodded to himself.
"Are you being sarcastic?" Full Lance gave Thistle a sidelong look.
"Me?" Thistle shook his head. "I'm far too young to be sarcastic."
Full Lance chuckled. "Very good, my young squire."
Thistle smiled appreciatively.
"You know what is a good omen, actually?" Full Lance pointed up at the sky. "The sun is up, and the wind has stopped blowing, so we'll be nice and warm on our way back home."
"Huh," Thistle nodded. "That is nice."
"Yes," Full Lance agreed.
Thistle closed his eyes, feeling the surprisingly comfortable temperature. Opening his eyes again, Thistle stared at the road Full Lance was heading towards, then around at the forest to the left, and the buildings to the right. Opening his peripherals, Thistle looked at the town in full, then up to the castle walls, then up to the castle itself and finally up to the lowering sun which had been muted behind some dark gray clouds.
A beat.
"...Hey Full Lance?" Thistle asked.
"Yeah?" Full Lance responded.
"Were those big clouds there when we left?" Thistle pointed north, where a front of cumulus clouds was heaped in the sky.
"...No, but... We'll probably be fine." Full Lance chuckled nervously.





It'd been ten minutes before the wind started blowing south, and another five before the sky was blotted out by storm clouds.
"Uhh, Full Lance?" Thistle asked loudly over the wind.
"Mmmm!?" Full Lance scarcely contained a panicked yell.
"I think we should turn back now!"
"In my expert opinion." Full Lance turned north, towards Castletown. "You are absolutely correct!" Full Lance began galloping against the wind. "If you can't keep up," He called backwards. "Just hop on the cart!"
Thistle began galloping as fast as his little legs could carry him. "I'll be okay!"
Even as Thistle said this, one of his hooves hit a particularly pointed rock. He barely forced his hoof over it in time to keep up with Full Lance, his hooves pattering with frantic rhythm. Within a few seconds, Thistle's fetlock made it abundantly clear that it was not happy about the trip. "Aurgh!" Thistle yelled in exertion. Panting, he realized that it had been a long time since he'd won a race against any of his peers. Or even participated in a race for that matter. In fact, Thistle had trouble even keeping up with what Nova called a 'slow pace' around the deserted sector of Castletown... Not to mention the only thing Thistle recalled eating today was part of Tiny Hay Bale.
Thistle was about to jump onto the wagon, when he narrowly avoided crashing into a pony headed in his direction. As Thistle looked back, he saw that it wasn't just one pony he'd almost crashed into, but two royal guardsponys. And they were already turning around to give chase to Thistle and Full Lance.
"Stop!" yelled one of them.
Thistle hardly even heard the command in his frenzy to keep up. Full Lance however heard the call very clearly, distracting him, almost causing him to stumble. Even as Full Lance ran, a small part of his brain continued to be distracted by the strangely familiar shout.
"...Who!?" Full Lance tried to spare a look behind himself, but quickly realized he needed to focus on the upcoming turn.
"I said stop!" repeated the leading guard, banking around the corner. "That's an order!"
Full Lance scanned the straight road ahead before making a calculated glance at his pony pursuers. His breath caught momentarily as he recognized the leading guard. "Tirol!?" Full Lance exclaimed.
"Yes!" yelled Tirol, charging to catch up Full Lance. "Now stop already!"
"I can't!" Full Lance said, sounding just a little hysterical. "I have to outrun the rain! The oats will spoil!"
Thunder rumbled ahead.
"You can't outrun the rain, Full Lance!" yelled Tirol. "It's already too late!"
Tirol continued pursuing Full Lance, while the accompanying guard caught up with Thistle, who was slowly lagging behind.
"Full Lance!" exclaimed Tirol. "Bell needs to speak with you!"
A moist wind rushed hit in full, causing all the ponies to stumble, but Full Lance quickly redouble his efforts. As Tirol accelerated in turn, a stone necklace lashed out from under his pale green tunic. Another roll of thunder crashed across the party. Rain began the pierce through the air.
"Bell!?" yelled Full Lance as his face was pelted with rain.
"Yes!" Tirol glared from behind.
"Why!?" Full Lance began to slow down so Tirol could catch up.
"I don't know how you managed to avoid me on the roads!" Tirol panted. "But I've been looking for you this whole day!"
Full Lance felt the rain quickly softening the ground underneath his hooves. He adapted his gallop to suit the mud, still slowing down for Tirol.
Finally a glaring Tirol caught up to Full Lance, hooves sliding slightly on the now fully mud road. As Full lance made eye contact with Tirol, he seemed to calm down a little.
Then Full Lance, eyes flashing, unleashed a guttural yell, bursting forward, churning up mud in a wake behind him.
"Full Lance--!" Tirol called out, struggling to put on any more speed. "Please, stop!"
The rain had come in full now, blanketing the field covered landscape in a calm cacophony of impacts. Full Lance's breath steamed in the billowing wind and rain, as guilt and fear fought in his chest. Eventually, Full Lance slowed to a stop. 
For a moment, it was just Full Lance and the cart stationed resolutely in the storm. Then Tirol slid to a muddy stop beside Full Lance. Tirol was about to say something, but his need for air got the better of him, and he stooped over, panting hard.
"Eheh," Full Lance turned in his yoke towards Tirol, "You wanted me to stop? Sorry."
Tirol continued panting, holding a hoof up. Before Tirol could say anything though--
"Hey!" called a voice from behind. 
Full Lance looked towards the voice.
It was the second guard, casually running through the fog towards Full Lance and Tirol. The guard pointed to a small figure running raggedly in front of him, "Is this kid with you?"
Full Lance gasped, color draining from his face. "Oh crap. Oh shoot."
"Huh?" Tirol began to recollect his wits.
Thistle closed the distance to Full Lance's cart, abruptly coming to a stumbling canter. He gasped for breath, then collapsed on the muddy road, hyperventilating and shivering; his fur completely soaked through by the still pelting rain.
"Oh crap," Full Lance fumbled, staring at the small figure embedded in mud. Thistle's chest was rising and falling in very short breaths. 
"Uh," Full lance backed out of the cart's yoke and dashed to Thistle's heaving figure. "Uhm," Full Lance kneeled next to Thistle as he pried Thistle's head from the mud. 
"Thistle?" he asked, staring at Thistle's face.
Thistle's eyes were side, pupils dilated, face pale. 
"Thistle!?" Full lance asked sharply.
No response.
"Thistle!" Full Lance tried. "BOY!" 
At this, Thistle's eyes came into focus. 
"Thistle," Full Lance said urgently. "Slow down. Take deep breaths. You need to control your breathing." To demonstrate Full Lance inhaled strongly through his nostrils, then exhaled out his mouth. "Like this, in... out... in... out..." 
As Full Lance continued, Thistle's breathing started to slow, his face visibly calming. Full Lance felt Thistle's pulse lower noticeably, and Thistle gave a tiny smile, still shivering.
Full Lance felt his own heart rate calm dramatically. He scooped Thistle into a deep embrace, feeling Thistle's wet and muddy coat plaster against his own. In the hug, Thistle started shivering less. A small laugh escaped Full Lance's lips in relief.
"Huuhhhh," Thistle exhaled, eyes watering. "You know, you run really fast... Full Lance."
"I'm sorry, Thistle," Full Lance said through tears. "For a moment I forgot about you. Again. I'm so sorry."
Thistle coughed. "There there, Full Lance," Thistle weakly patted Full Lance on the back, "I'm... okay."
"Uhhh..." interrupted the second guard. "Maybe we should give the kid a blanket, but uh, we should probably get going now.
"Berengar is right," Tirol laid a hoof on Full Lance's shoulder. "I needed a break, but we really shouldn't keep Bell waiting."
Full Lance exhaled shakily. He relaxed his embrace, looking at Thistle, "Can you stand now?"
Thistle gently extricated himself the rest of the way from Full Lance's embrace, shakily standing up in the storm. "Yup, I'm all good on the standing front."
"Okay," Full Lance dried his tears --or at least tried to as well as he could in the rain-- as he got back up on his own hooves. "Tirol," Full Lance turned to face the pony in question.
"Ready?" grunted Tirol.
Full Lance casually took the knife Tirol had attached to his side.
"?!"
Full lance pivoted around, and then raised the blade high above his head. He brought it down with hurtling force! A sack of oats spilled open from the top. Full Lance then cut the bottom open, and dumped the entire bag into the mud. Depositing Tirol's knife back from whence it came, Full Lance pivoted over to Thistle.
"D-dramatic much?" Thistle asked.
Full Lance smirked. "Well, I didn't bring any blankets, so this is the best I can do." He was about to try and put the sack over thistle, when he realized how much mud was still clinging to Thistle's body. "First though, we have to clean off your muddy coat."
"Oh j-joy," Thistle's teeth chattered.
Tirol sighed. "Please be quick, Full Lance."