//------------------------------//
// 8 - Jesuit 
// Story: Horse Of The Rising Sun 
// by TCC56 
//------------------------------//

Breakfast was simple enough - oat porridge with elderberries. A massive cauldron in the middle of the monastery collectively fed the inhabitants of the fortified structure as they gathered around one end of the two long tables in the central gallery. Like so many other parts of the town, it was a titanic space suited for more than two hundred ponies - and here it held less than three dozen. 

Tempest remained silent through the meal, though nopony noticed. They were too busy listening as Starswirl regaled them with stories from his adventuring days a thousand years before. He sat beside Reliquary Heart, the older mare cheerfully laughing at each anecdote. Around her the others did as well - Scribble to her right, Script and Bit to the left past Starswirl. Tempest drew next to no attention as they ate. This was Starswirl's stage, and she was satisfied to let him have it. Obviously Bit forcing the issue by taking her into town the day before had lifted the half-hearted attempt to keep the visitors secret. Judging by the way she laughed and smiled beside Starswirl, the Prioress didn't seem to mind.

None of them really noticed Tempest until she stood to leave. That, at least, got Scribble's attention since they were beside each other. 

The youthful assistant turned her head like an owl's. "Commander?"

Tempest shook her head, immediately warding off any concerns. "Going for a morning trot," she explained. And it was truthful - though at the same time it wasn't what ruled Tempest's mind. Her thoughts were focused just as much on what purpose she even served by being here. With the monks and scribes helping Starswirl, he didn't need her to search for information. Similarly, the town had operated for centuries just fine; her skills weren't helpful and her lack of magic meant that she couldn't take part in most of their work. All she had ahead was a week or so of spinning her wheels and waiting for others to take action as a city full of unicorns stole glances at her horn. Years of hard battle - both for the Storm King and against his legacy - had abruptly fallen into a directionless vacation. 

At least keeping up her conditioning with a jog let her be alone.

Fortunately the curtain wall created an almost perfect track for the run: a continuous circle around the monastery, wide enough in most places for several ponies side by side and lacking any real obstacles. She couldn't get lost and nopony would disturb her. 

And none did for the first three laps. On the fourth, there were two ponies waiting as she passed the main gates. Tempest jogged by, and both Luminous Script and Scribble fell in - one on either side of her. Out of curiosity, she slowed down enough so they could keep up. 

"If anypony joined me, I would have expected Bit." 

Script gave a little chuckle as he struggled to keep even the more sedate pace. "Oh no, he's having a lazy day. It's his turn to maintain the barrier is this afternoon, and he always takes the day off beforehoof. He's eager to claim he's spending time gathering his strength and centering himself for the task, but he mostly spends it reading romance poetry and playing cards."

That earned a laugh from Tempest. "I didn't figure him for a poet." 

"That would be my fault," Script admitted with a smile. "I convinced him to read my work and the poor fool was hooked. He hasn't a clue when it comes to writing his own as he has no sense of meter, but he enjoys reading it."

On her other side, Scribble broke out into giggles. "His poetry's almost as bad as your playing, Script." He shot his companion a playfully hurt glare, and Tempest raised an eyebrow. Scribble was eager to explain. "Script's been trying to teach himself how to play the dulcimer for years, but he's terrible at it."

Sticking out his tongue over Tempest's back, Script returned fire. "Not all of us are blessed by our Mark! I'm decent, you're just overly critical." 

Tempest slowed her trot slightly more, taking the prompt to actually look at the cutie marks of her companions for the first time. Both were partially concealed by the robes they wore, but their jogging jostled enough to give her a glimpse. 

Script's was easy enough to decipher - golden calligraphy flowing from the tip of a white quill. Scribble's, on the other hoof, was more perplexing - five parallel lines in black, dotted by quarter-notes in a rainbow of colors. 

Helpfully, Scribble was quick to jump to explain. "It's music!" She fired the response off fast enough to make it obvious she had been asked the question many times before.

"...Well yes," deadpanned Tempest.

The smaller mare flushed. "You just--" 

"She's wondering what it has to do with scribbling," Script helpfully pointed out. 

"Oh! Oh, um, sorry! I guess I forgot--" Scribble cleared her throat - and paused as they jogged through one of the towers along the wall, forced briefly to line up and pass through the narrower doorways. On the other side, Scribble resumed as they retook formation. "My name wasn't originally Scribble. It was Joyous Ode. Everypony just calls me Scribble because, well, they say my hornwriting's terrible but it's actually that I developed my own shorthoof system so I could take notes more quickly for Prioress Heart! There's not a lot of need for a full time composer, so I started out helping her and it sort of stuck."

Something caught in Tempest's throat - a lump of words that she both needed to say and refused to let out. "I can understand not using your original name," she hedged. And she sped up as well, pulling ahead of the other two. 

They both trotted quicker to try and keep up. "Well that was a weird and extremely leading statement!" Scribble was already sweating hard as she struggled at what Tempest considered an only slightly brisk pace.

"Aren't you two supposed to be helping Starswirl and the Prioress," growled Tempest, somewhere between a question and an accusation. 

Faring slightly better than his companion scribe, Script managed a knowing grin. "We decided to give the two of them some time alone together."

"Yeah!" Scribble snickered cheerfully. "I don't know if they noticed but we can see the eyes they're making at each other!"

Automatic revulsion boiled out of Tempest's gut before she could suppress it, and she stuck out her tongue with disgust. "Eugh. Really? Starswirl's ancient!"

Her two trotting companions broke out into childish laughter. "Reliquary isn't young, either," Script playfully pointed out. 

Scribble winked. "I think she's dreaming of being an adventurer again."

Tempest blinked. "She is? I thought that was Bit's role, not hers."

Scoffing, Script rolled his eyes - and nearly tripped over a slightly out of place stone as penance. "Let me guess, Bit gave you his 'I wish I could see battle' whine yesterday?" A nod from Tempest confirmed it. "There's a reason that he and Reliquary get along so well."

"Prioress Heart is a good pony and she cares about us all." A bit of defensiveness leaked into Scribble's voice, though it wasn't clear just who it was directed at. "But yeah. She's a great leader but I know she wishes she didn't have to be. I mean, there's a reason her Mark is a caged heart."

Script gave his own addition to that. "If we weren't here, I'm certain that the name Reliquary Heart would have been known across Equestria by the time she was thirty. Probably as much for causing trouble as it would have been for helping others. She's got the soul of an adventurer even if she has the mind of a leader."

"And never had the chance to follow her calling." Tempest frowned a little as she pieced it together. "Hm. And I suppose you're much the same, Scribble, with your Mark."

Surprisingly, the assistant shook her head. "Nope! I mean, it's kind of sad that there really isn't a wider call for musical composition but I'm happy with doing it my spare time! I know that what I do is a big help to Prioress Heart and everypony that lives here - and I'll be the same help to Script when he becomes Prior."

"Hopefully not for a while," he groaned. "I still don't understand why she decided to name me her successor already. Reliquary's going to be leading us for a long time still." 

"Or not. Once the Princesses hear about things, she might have the chance to go adventuring." Tempest tried to be gentle about the reminder, but her blunt failure made clear that being gentle was not one of her strengths. 

Script banged the side of his barrel against the stones as he failed to curve with the wall. He fell behind briefly before galloping to catch up again. "If it weren't for the fact that she couldn't possibly have planned this, I would be quite angry at Reliquary for trying to get me to take over early."

To her other side, Scribble broke out into giggles.





Tempest gave the scribes credit - both Script and Scribble managed to last almost twenty minutes before they finally gave up running. Granted it was twenty minutes at a reduced pace, but she hadn't expected them to make it beyond ten. 

Once they had begged forgiveness for not being able to continue and stopped, she finally had the chance to get some real exercise. Not merely a jog, but a proper run. Sides heaving, hooves pounding, sweat flowing, heart thumping. She ran, each galloping step striking sparks as iron-shod hooves slammed against thousand year old stones. Tempest held nothing back as she lost herself in the physicality of the moment - a moment where she stopped existing as a pony and became a force. Became motion instead of thought. 

It was only when three tones rang out from the tower bell - F-sharp, each half a minute apart - that the momentum became a pony again. Tempest slowed and as she came to a halt? Her need for oxygen caught up. She lurched, leaning against the battlement wall as she panted and let the chill air slowly take the sweat from her coat.

Legs aching with a head-clearing burn, Tempest roused herself after a minute of rest to take a cool-down trot back to the courtyard. But a glance there - and to the guards practicing (and mostly failing) to lift heavy rocks with their magic - made Tempest decide to spend her time somewhere else. The little sidelong looks at her made clear nopony in the courtyard had forgotten what happened with Bit the day before.

Instead, she made her way back out into the town again. Tempest didn't have a direction or destination, simply meandering through the cobbled streets as her pulse fell back to normal. Much of it went by in a blur - an indistinct haze of mundane daily life that Tempest had been removed from for so long that it was alien. She hadn't even really grown up in Equestria, so how could she really relate to a pair of ponies washing their laundry in a tub as they chatted from one yard to the other? And her shattered horn left little room to feel sorry for the unicorn who's cart full of coal had tipped over, leaving him to reload it by hoof. 

Her hooves carried her out of town at some point as the busy homes transitioned to houses abandoned when the town's population dwindled, and those in turn transitioned to the carefully curated fields that kept them from starvation. Row after row of grain stood tall, still green and unready for harvest. The stillness of the stalks tickled at the back of Tempest's mind as she went by - then clicked as she realized the air within the barrier was eerily calm. Two days, and she hadn't felt even the most mild of breezes. That thought made her chuckle. A good storm would shock the sheltered unicorns of the town and the House - she mentally wrote herself a reminder to be around the first time that they felt the wind go through their manes. 

Passing a farmer struggling to pull rutabagas out with his teeth, Tempest started to curve back towards town when she came near the base of the hill they'd entered on. Even a good minute's jog off, she could see the barrier wobbling slightly with the viscous texture of warm honey. The wind pushed here and there, testing the wall for weak points that would never exist. Tempest paused for a moment to watch the barrier, trying to spy the shape or face of a windigo in the hazy white blizzard beyond. 

She saw nothing - though she felt the prickle along her hackles that somepony was looking back at her. 

Looping around, her trot carried her around the outer edges of the town. Past a quiet marsh and two more farms - one thick with cherry trees and the other a low field of some sort of green leaf. Agriculture wasn't Tempest's wheelhouse, leaving her to guess that it might have been spinach. In theory she could have asked once she got back, but that was unlikely since she didn't actually care. 

What did grab her thoughts was the two ponies she saw moving parallel to her at the edge of town -  a dark blue stallion and a teal mare. 

Shifting her angle, Tempest closed the distance and confirmed it: Scribble and Luminous Script. Even before she was close enough to see their faces, the fact that both were half-limping with weariness after the earlier jog was a dead giveaway. 

Thirty more seconds and she drew up behind them. They were talking, oblivious despite the loud strike of Tempest's shoes on the cobbles. For just a moment she lit her horn, aiming the jagged and sparking tip at their exposed docks. But she felt a hiccup in her magic - a fluctuation as it sputtered and spat - and Tempest cut the power and thought better of the prank. Instead, she cleared her throat loudly.

They both still jumped in surprise. 

"T--Tempest!" Scribble's face couldn't decide if it wanted to express fear or happiness, settling on an awkward mix of both. "What are you doing here?"

She couldn't help the smarmy smirk. "Walking," Tempest dryly observed. "In public. Like a normal pony. Why are you both here and looking guilty as Kludgetowners?"

The reference utterly missed both, but Script forged on anyway. "We were actually heading to the storehouse to pick up a few things. I wanted to get some cabbage for dinner - Bit should be off his barrier shift by then and I thought I'd make the cabbage and white bean soup he likes." 

"And I'm going there for ink!" Scribble puffed out her meager chestfluff defensively. "I saw how much Starswirl went through yesterday making notes, so they're going to be out by tonight." 

Tempest nodded slowly, lips in a thoughtful purse. "And the guilty part that you both avoided mentioning?"

"Oh hey!" Scribble perked up and pointed to a large, low building a good hundred yards ahead. "We're here!"

"I can and will detonate the entrance to that building so you can't get inside if you try that clumsy of a dodge again." Tempest considered lighting her horn again to drive the point home - but it wasn't necessary. The look of horror on both their faces clearly showed she'd made her point. 

Stopping, Scribble hung her head in shame. "Sorry. I just, uh. I just don't--" She squirmed uncomfortably. "It feels different telling you about gossip than it does telling Script?"

With a weighty sigh, Script rubbed his forehead and made the confession. "Scribble went back to check on Starswirl and Reliquary. She caught them getting close, so she left again without them noticing. Then she made up a reason to go somewhere else, we ran into each other on the way here and you threatened to destroy the place we store the food and starve us all." 

Tempest's heart hitched at the last point. Oh. "Well... okay, sorry about the last one. I was a little annoyed and I don't have the best coping methods."

An incredulous Script opened his mouth - only to be interrupted by a scandalized Scribble. "And it wasn't that they were close! They were close. Like their horns were touching!" Her hushed voice quivered at such a taboo action. 

It took considerable effort for Tempest not to roll her eyes. "So you left them alone for a while. How long ago were they like that?"

Scribble blinked. "Um. Three quarters of an hour, maybe?"

A moment's thought - then Tempest nodded. "Yeah, that should be plenty of time. He's old. Let's get your ink and cabbage and get on with life. I'll help you carry it."

With a groan, Script cradled his face in his hooves. "I cannot believe you just implied that."

Scribble, meanwhile, just blushed. 

The actual process of picking up ink and cabbage was remarkably simple - Tempest had expected far tighter rationing controls. But the storehouse was unlocked and unguarded, allowing entry to any who desired it. There was a brief disruption as Scribble dropped a vial of ink on the floor, but beyond that? The hardest part was finding things in the open warehouse and loading a small wagon. 

As they left, however? Just as Tempest was about to needle the other two again about Prioress Heart's potential relationships, she spotted the mare in question. 

Distressingly, she spotted her running full speed towards them. 

Reliquary Heart was not a terribly fit mare. Even for the fairly lackadaisical denizens of the town and the House, she was older and carried an air of fragility around her. So to see her gangly limbs whirling as she careened past two houses, spotted the trio and tripped over her own hooves? That was unusual and concerning. She landed in a clatter - and both Scribble and Script forgot everything to rush to her side. 

"Prioress!"
"Reliquary!"

Tempest trotted after them - in less of a rush but no less concerned. 

It was strange, though. When the Prioress raised her head, she didn't look to her assistant or her successor - she looked right at Tempest with panicked, pleading eyes. 

And that was the moment Tempest knew something had gone horribly wrong.

"Starswirl," panted the Prioress. "Starswirl's collapsed."