//------------------------------// // 1313: 5 // Story: They're EVERYWHERE! // by Nameless Narrator //------------------------------// As good an idea as it seemed to promise to attend real paladin training in front of Celestia, Grandmaster Beacon’s immediate dismissal probably saved 1313’s carapace. However, as the weekend allotted for paladin reserve training drew closer, 1313 was less and less sure that trying to improve Blueblood’s reputation might have not been the best idea.  Zamira, pacing back and forth through Blueblood’s study in front of 1313 huddled in an armchair somehow managing to hug his hind legs, suddenly stops and looks directly at 1313:  “Welp, I’m out of ideas. It’s been nice knowing you, 1313.” “VERY USEFUL!” the changeling’s eye twitches. “Said the guy who decided that attending a paladin training as a highly fragile changeling was a good idea.” “Why are you like this?” “A prissy little mare punched you and your muzzle almost broke off. Now imagine that nutter Beacon hitting you with a practice sword, you porcelain ninny!” “Tell me, what exactly did I get myself into?” “That’s the point - I can’t,” Zamira rolls her eyes, “Paladin reserve training is the only event I specifically wasn’t allowed to visit with Blueblood.” “It can’t be that bad. Blueblood is still princess Celestia’s nephew. She wouldn’t be too happy if he returned to her in a box.” “Blueblood isn’t the one who breaks in two in a strong breeze. ” “Shoot. I can’t call it off anymore, can I?” “If you did that after promising it in front of princess Celestia and Blueblood learned about it, he would blow you up immediately. There’s only one thing aside from power and status he wants and that’s her approval.” “Okay, okay, breathe 1313. Zamira, is there a way you can help me?” “This is a hole you specifically dug for yourself in such a way that makes it impossible. The only thing I know is that Blueblood always came back completely exhausted and spent the next day whining about his legs. Knowing that knows diddly squat about magic, I doubt the reserves learn complex spells or anything so my guess is that they carry something heavy and probably levitate a sword for a long time.” “So… stamina will be the key, probably,” 1313 takes a long and slow breath, “Hmm, do you know of any treasured items that might be filled with love I could feed from? Just like the first time we ‘met’. I’m feeling okay right now but okay sounds like it might not be enough.” “Maaaybe.” “Look, I promise I won’t break it. Besides, you know by now how our feeding works. I returned your dream catcher to you in one piece.” “I had to rig the washing machine to boil the water to get the green stuff off of it!” “Oh dear.” “It exploded and startled the poor servant who went down to wash stuff after me!” “You forgot to un-rig it, didn’t you?” “UNIMPORTANT!” “Fine, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll try my hardest to avoid throwing up, drooling, bleeding, or squirting any other bodily fluids even remotely in the direction of any treasured item you can provide for me.” “Well...” “Pleeeeeeease!” “Fine, okay, geez. Just stop it with those puppy eyes.” “Thank you. If I get through this weekend alive I… I… ” 1313’s voice gradually fades, “I don’t have anything to give you in return.” Even the slightly distraught infiltrator notices that Zamira was waiting for this when she smirks. “I just thought of something that might be of interest to both of us.” “You jumped on that suspiciously quickly.” “Some level of jumping might be included, yes.” “You lost me there.” “I think you should go to bed early to catch some Zs.” “I wish I wasn’t too nervous to sleep.” “There’s a Z who can help with that too.” “Waaaaait a minute...” “You did say something along the lines of love and lust being a good meal.”  “But I can’t transform into the Diamond Dog you wanted.” “We’ll save that one for when all this is over. Gotta have something to look forward to. You see, Blueblood is kinda hot but no mare with a hint of self-respect would touch his insufferable ass with a long pole. You, on the other hoof, know how to listen when a mare tells you to do something, so you?” “Crazy striped lady, most high rank infiltrators are female, our entire species is ruled by a queen whose word is absolute, and saying the word king gets you an express ticket into the crusher.” “Goooood,” her grin only grows more devilish, “I’ve got a few ideas of a way Blueblood can open his mouth without ruining somepony’s day.” “The jacuzzi?” “Better - Blueblood’s bed.” “I’m an evil, mind manipulating bug monster and even I must say that you’re an inspiration to us all.” *** It’s the fateful morning and 1313 finds himself walking through upper Canterlot towards the castle grounds. Supposedly, the paladin headquarters is a cathedral situated outside the castle proper, directly by the walls separating the gardens from the rest of Canterlot. Even through the haze of nervousness, 1313 vaguely recalls seeing some huge and well-lit building not too far away from the castle the last time he was there for the ball. However, what’s occupying 1313’s attention the most is that somepony is following him and, the worst part, they’re good at it. He’s pretty sure that without infiltrator experience and changeling senses, his tail would go unnoticed even in the mostly empty streets of the early morning city.   Whoever they are, they know well what they’re doing, but they have nothing on a changeling.  Now, the question is simple - are they a guard watching out for Blueblood, are they a thief following a visibly wealthy mark, or are they following 1313? After roughly half an hour of casually walking through the city, he still doesn’t get an answer as he finds himself standing on the other side of the street, facing the entrance of the paladin cathedral. Unfortunately, even now, before five o’clock, there are two fully suited-up paladins already watching him with no signs of boredom or weariness. They are ready. The worst part, though, is the faint blue shimmer occasionally passing through both heavily decorated wings of the huge, ornate front gate.  Damn, a barrier, a persistent scanning spell? This is bad. Can’t turn around now, they’re looking at me.  Plan plan plan plan plan... Okay, so… the second anything moves, I bolt. It’s a bunch of paladins so I’m probably boned either way but I’m not the one wearing full plate armor. Just. Stay. Cool. Under the watchful eyes of the paladins on guard, 1313 crosses the street, its infiltrator instincts taking control and stopping his legs and voice from trembling as he greets the duo: “Good morning. I’m here for the-” “Reserves, we know,” says one paladin firmly, his horn flashes, and one wing of the gate opens just enough for 1313 to pass through. The moment his entire body is inside the building, the barrier flickers and the gate closes, making 1313 feel extremely small even in the square antechamber. The door ahead is open, clearly leading to the great hall while the two normal doors on the sides are closed. Judging by the look 1313 got from the outside, they must lead into corridors lining the outer edge of the building. Ooookay, that was… weir- “Blueblood,” says a powerful and unpleasantly familiar voice echoing through the empty cathedral.  “Ah, buc-” 1313’s entire nervous system does that ‘hitting an elbow on the edge of the table’ thing, “Grandmaster Beacon, you surprised me.”  The changeling’s minigun-mimicking heart must be the loudest thing in the whole place and yet Beacon’s expression of keen observation mixed with slight disgust seems to be exactly the same as at the ball. “You surprised me, Blueblood,” Beacon measures him, “And here I was thinking you were just blowing smoke.” “I- I can’t disappoint my aunt like that without at least trying to make things right,” 1313, gradually calming down due to the surprising lack of being chopped into pieces by blades burning with fires of the vengeful sun, faces the paladin grandmaster. Beacon scoffs. “Admirable. Now go get suited up and then report back here,” he points his horn towards the door to the great hall, “The armory is that way, in case your lazy ass forgot since last time. Third door on the right and I’m sure even you can recall the rest of the way.” “Yes, Grandmaster,” 1313 gives him a quick bow before turning away and leaving at a significantly quicker pace. I can’t read that guy at all. On the other hole, I still have all my bits without having to gather them from a landfill so that’s a bonus.. *** The paladin armor is significantly lighter than it looks from the outside, and 1313 keeps thanking the hive mind for the stroke of luck from the time he starts putting it on until he, fully suited, returns to the great hall and sits down in front of the raised dais at the end opposite the entrance. From the amount of chairs and the three long tables spanning the entire length of the hall, this place must be able to host about three hundred paladins when full. Within fifteen minutes, four other young paladins-to-be arrive and find their eyes locked on Beacon who enters the hall from the door leading to the corridor with the armory, walks up onto the podium, and clears his throat. Don’t make a fuss. No one really likes Blueblood, from what I gather, so I can stay in the back without talking to anyone. “Usually, the first order of business is breakfast.” FUSS, PANIC, PROBLEMS! “However, I have prepared something special for you this weekend.” Not good. Special is never good. “You will have to eat on the way.” Way where? Am I going to be put down behind a shed? “Where are we going, sir?” asks a rather polite sounding unicorn noble 1313 doesn’t know. Ooof, thank holes I’m not the only one who’s lost here. “We’re going to visit an old ‘friend’ of mine, Hayfield, in order to test both your physical and mental resilience. You see, so far we’ve been focusing on the technical aspects of being a paladin reserve - the practice fighting, the physical exercises, and the occasional casting of spells. However, a controlled environment doesn’t teach you… enough. Enemies don’t wait with their ambush until you’re ready, nor do they attack only when you are at full strength. Over this weekend, we will see how you fare during a scenario similar to a paladin being deployed into a hostile territory. First, we will be marching south from Canterlot in full gear. That’s why I said you’d have breakfast on the way.” That’s not too bad, actually. Unless someone is watching me all the time, I might be able to lie about having already eaten my share. “And after the march?” asks the curious noble. “That’s classified,” replies Beacon. “How are we supposed to prepare for a mission when we don’t know what it is?” asks a blond unicorn 1313 recognizes as the one whom Zamira identified as Leo Goldhorn during the ball. “Sometimes it is necessary to deliver information on a need to know basis. That’s what the command structure is for. It does not matter if the problem is insufficient scouting or simply the risk of you, the lowest-ranked expedition members, being captured and not having any information to divulge. Imagine you are a paladin like me, Goldhorn. You’ve gone through rigorous training and you joined to protect Equestria from darkness beyond the reach of anyone else. All of us share the same goal so why would you need to question orders?” before Leo can say anything, Beacon raises his hoof and adds, “Yes, I understand that ‘I only obeyed orders’ is the worst and the most common excuse for committing crimes against equinity. However, for the purposes of this exercise let’s leave the possibility of either incompetent or duplicitous commander out. Understood?” “Yes, sir!” the reserves salute. “Good, get up and get moving.” *** With Beacon and a second paladin by the name Platinum Heart setting the rather quick but still manageable pace by walking in front of the five reserves, the young nobles following them through upper Canterlot and then along the winding path leading around the mountain and into the lower city don’t have much to do other than talk. As soon as Leo Goldhorn walking next to 1313 opens his mouth, the changeling has no chance but to sigh internally. “Bet it must be pretty hard, walking in the sun like this without your precious bodyguard slash servant carrying your armor for once.” Okay, so I have no idea how Blueblood conducted himself during these sessions. If I were him, I’d smack this little shit over the head immediately. Judging by his looks Blueblood must be almost ten years older. On the other hole, I have little to no experience with nobility. Leo’s cheekiness might stem from him never really being a subject to violence or danger. This can mean three things. One, he really has no idea about physical confrontations. Two, he does, but he only attacks those of lower rank who can’t defend themselves. It can’t be legal to smush a noble’s face even in self defense, even I know how lawmaking works and who has the final say in pushing things through. Three, neither of those but he knows that Blueblood can’t punch him in front of Beacon. “It’s not like she was allowed to accompany me before,” replies 1313 non-commitally, drawing on what little he knows. “True, but wouldn’t that be great? That massive zebra plot jiggling in front of you, sweaty from a whole day of training-” Oh, he’s just a hormonal moron. Zamira should have him wrapped around her hoof within a week.  “-and most of all - she knows how to obey.” I would love to see her teach you how wrong you are, you horny twat. “You have my permission to make her an offer she can’t refuse. If you can top mine, that is,” smirks 1313. “Oh? How much are you- I mean,” Leo chuckles sadistically, “How much is your father paying her?” I have no idea. “I guess you’ll have to ask her and accept anything she asks for,” bluffs 1313, “If it helps, she does tend to parade herself around me in hopes of rising from her servant status but one - she’s not a unicorn and two - as if I’d cavort with a commoner.” “Hah, you have no idea what you’re missing out on,” Leo shakes his head, “Maybe I will offer her something you won’t.” “Keep dreaming. She’s loyal, professional, and now that I know you’re interested in her, I might give her a raise so that she doesn’t take on a different contract. If you want to see that striped plot in action, you might want to sweeten the deal,” 1313 laughs, “And I’m not sure you can afford that but be sure to keep trying. I’m bound to enjoy the lack of competition.” With a huff, Leo picks up the pace while grumbling to himself. Hmm… hope I didn’t overdo it. I owe it to Zamira that in case she exchanges one inbred twat for another, she’ll at least get paid enough to afford her own house and sexy servants that she wants. *** Ten hours, ten holes-damned hours of marching in full gear before Beacon stopped them to let them have lunch in the shade of one of many small groves dotting the landscape otherwise filled with rolling fields or meadows. Not that the trip so far was all bad, since after descending Canterlot mountain, everyone finally realized how much of an ordeal the march was going to be and left 1313 alone. 1313 opens the saddlebag Zamira prepared for him and pulls out a big bottle of something brown and sloshing. One raised eyebrow later, he puts it on the grass and finds two more things - a small piece of paper and a tiny box wrapped in a hoofkerchief. The paper turns out to be a brief note reading: [“I might not know what exactly you’ll be doing but I know how military drills go back home. Having a real full meal would cause you more harm than good because I’m sure one of the sunstrokes is bound to make you carry stacks of bricks right after lunch. I packed you a bottle of water. The brown is just a food dye but it also makes it look like one of those easily digestible instant foods. Don’t worry, it’s not made from ponies. As for your real meal, I think it’s worth the risk but if you don’t return it or damage it in any way I WILL blow you up personally. That’s NOT a joke.”] With utmost care, 1313 opens the small box which reveals a locket practically brimming with love. Inside, there’s a photo of two zebras - a mare and a stallion. And that’s all there is in the saddlebag, yet it’s more than enough for 1313. With the locket in his hoof, he levitates up the brown-stained bottle and starts sipping the lukewarm water. “AMBUSH!” yells Platinum Heart out of nowhere, making everyone scramble for their weapons and helmets. In only a few moments, every member of the group is standing on all fours, their weapon floating nearby, and scanning the area. “Well that was pathetic,” scoffs Beacon, “No formation, no coherence, only five foals standing each on their own. You are A UNIT!” he shakes his head, “Now, since I couldn’t afford to hire a circus to release wild animals on you, our ambush time will be spent by sparring, so split up into pairs and get going. Torchlight, go and slap Blueblood around a bit. Goldhorn, you start with Hayfield. Azure Sea, you go against Platinum. You’ll all be swapping later so that everypony can have a go at everypony.” The combat practice begins and despite 1313 not being weighed down by a recent meal, the muscular unicorn currently beating him into the ground is far too much of a challenge. “You still suck at fighting, I see,” laughs Torchlight as he disarms 1313 for far too many-eth time, “I guess relying completely on bodyguards makes one soft and complacent.” “Not everyo- everypony… lives… at the gym...” with a hiss of pain, 1313 levitates his sword up again and swings at the bigger unicorn. “True, but somepony supposedly from an alicorn bloodline should be an example!” Torchlight’s powerful swing knocks 1313’s sword on the grass again and the following shove makes the changeling follow suit, “Or maybe there isn’t as much to this whole alicorn thing as everypony thinks.” “Leave my aunt out of this,” growls 1313. 1313 scowls, his telekinesis taking hold of the discarded sword and attempting an upswing which gets easily blocked by Torchlight who smirks. “I mean, old age and senility must eventually catch up to alicorns as well...” I’d pay good money to see you say that to Celestia’s face. 1313 fakes several angry swings, each easily blocked by clearly a far superior fighter.  Torchlight sneers and approaches 1313 while locking their swords against each other. I could punch him and he likely wouldn’t expect it, but even with my armor I’m pretty sure my hoof would break against that rock jaw. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” grunts 1313, blinking away sweat. “Don’t I?” whispers Torchlight, “They say that a changeling is inside the castle, running circles around your precious aunt and her guards. Pathetic.” They know about me? Zamira’s theatrics at the ball mustn’t have been enough. 1313 realizes that his shock must be readable even for a musclebound moron like Torchlight as the unicorn’s grin only grows as he continues: “The new anti-changeling guard alarms keep triggering and yet the princess hasn’t found anything.”  Keep triggering? I was at the castle only once... “Or maybe whoever made those alarms just did a shoddy job,” 1313 rolls his eyes. “ARE YOU FIGHTING OR HAVING A DRUNKEN BOOK CLUB DISCUSSION?!” screams Platinum Heart, making both unicorns jump. “F-Fighting, sir!” Torchlight salutes. “Psychological warfare, sir!” says 1313, joining in the salute. “Geez, Blueblood,” Platinum Heart rolls his eyes, “If you were half as good at anything as you are at finding excuses then the princess wouldn’t have to keep asking the Grandmaster not to kick you out every session.” Aaaand here comes the snickering from all around. Great, now I’m feeling bad for her, because Blueblood really is the absolute potato everyone thinks he is. Well, time to outpotato him. With a flash of his horn, the flat of 1313’s blade smacks the back of Torchlight’s plot, making the unicorn jump forward. “See? It worked,” 1313 smirks. *** If anyone expected the recruits to have some time to rest after the combat practice, they didn’t know Beacon. As soon as the recruits stewing inside their full armors through a late summer noon could barely telekinetically hold their swords anymore, their bodies were forced into service again because both paladins in charge ordered the reserves to begin the second half of the march. However, with everyone now keeping to themselves and trying their best not to fall over and, admittedly, both the slower pace and gradually setting sun, the second part of the day was significantly more pleasant for 1313. Eventually, their journey must be coming to an end because Beacon stops and points at a wall of trees spreading all the way to the east, near pitch black under the dim, late evening horizon.  “That is the Everfree Forest,” says Beacon in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, “We’ll venture a short distance in and then we’ll set up camp. The place is dangerous at night, even the edge, so be on your guard. Platinum will be our source of light ahead to avoid showing to any enemy how many of us there are.” Soon, they’re travelling through the northern edge of the forest guided only by Platinum Heart’s glowing horn in the front. “Why are we here, anyway, Grandmaster,” asks Hayfield, him and Azure Sea being the two reserves who didn’t pester 1313 whatsoever, “Unless it’s still classified.” Covering their backs, Beacon replies without stopping scanning his surroundings for even a second. “So far, you’ve travelled from your base into enemy territory, you got ‘ambushed’ on the way, and now you’re almost at your destination. Wherever your mission takes you, it won’t be a holiday destination and you might need to act quickly or remain vigilant. Torchlight, you’re staying here.” “Grandmaster?” asks the unicorn. “You won’t be camping together during the night. Let’s assume you had to take different routes into enemy territory and have to hide until enemies are less alert. You will be meditating through the night to remain vigilant and steel your mind against any potential influence.” That’s why the forced march, training, and no actual rest. Staying awake is going to be a pain. For them, I mean. Wait, no. With this damn necklace I can’t shapeshift to turn my need to sleep off. Zamira’s locket will be invaluable here then. “Since this is still a training exercise,” Beacon continues, “You will be within range to call for help in case of trouble. Let’s move.” “Yes, Grandmaster,” Torchlight salutes and starts looking around for a good spot to settle overnight. One by one, every member of the group is led into their respective area and left alone. 1313 can’t help noticing that he’s been led the deepest into the forest and pondering whether it’s just Beacon’s aversion to Blueblood or something else. On the other hole, he’s also the one ‘trainee’ who knows Everfree Forest albeit not in any great detail so he knows roughly what signs of trouble to listen for.  Hmm… Beacon said something about visiting a friend and yet he hasn’t mentioned it since. Perhaps on the way back? Minutes drag on and turn into the first hour. Strangely enough, now that he’s completely alone 1313 feels safer than at any point since crashing in Blueblood’s bedroom. For the first time in over a week, he’s in control of his situation. Well, mostly. Hole, he could even try finding a cave and removing the explosive collar. It just might be his best option of getting out of this and since Blueblood might decide to blow him up in the end anyway, doing it here in a semi-controlled environment could be his only real chance. Yet, he doesn’t do it in the end. One, it would be loud and someone might come take a look. And two… Two… I know she’s using me to get what she wants but… it doesn’t feel like it’s the only thing. Zamira likes him and she knows he’s a changeling. An infiltrator can sense these things easily, no matter how small. Returning to the hive, if there even still is a hive, doesn’t seem entirely beneficial. The constant hunger, the missions, the ever present threat of being devoured by a higher rank, or just being recycled because the queen is in a bad mood and he didn’t bring enough love from his assignment. Maybe I just changed a metaphorical explosive collar for a real one. With a jerk, he opens his eyes and realizes he nodded off. He blinks in surprise. That shouldn’t have happened. His ears perk up as he reaches into his saddlebag and pulls out Zamira’s locket. The love inside it is immense and it spreads through his body like warmth seeping in as one lowers themselves into a bath. With this level of love at his disposal, he shouldn’t be feeling dizzy at all, and yet, even breathing is difficult without his eyes slowly closing. That’s when it hits him. There’s something in the air. Immediately, he pulls out a hoofkerchief in which the locket box was wrapped and turns it into a makeshift bandanna. It’s not enough, not yet, but the adrenaline pouring through him now is keeping 1313 focused. Water. He can still hear a small stream bubbling in the distance. Beacon really did pick a perfect spot for this training. It’s deep enough to provide danger yet close enough to the edge in case of something unmanageable, there’s a source of fresh water nearby, and most wood and vines around can be used for makeshift field dressing in case of wounds. He reaches the stream, has a drink, and dips his bandanna in it before rebinding it on his nose. The cold water helps clear his head and the wet cloth provides a slightly better insulation against the strange scent putting him to sleep. A horrified scream in the distance pierces the stillness of the night, yet no hoofsteps or anything follow it. It was loud, it should have woken up the other recruits even if they fell asleep. Another one, quickly cut off, in the same direction but a different angle. Yeah, they’re coming from the others. Gritting his teeth, 1313 heads towards the last known location of Hayfield who was the one stationed nearest to him. The occasional screaming keeps him on his hooves despite him now being able to identify the strange scent in the air which keeps attempting to put him back to sleep.  To his surprise, when he reaches Hayfield, the unicorn is lying on the ground, spasming and occasionally weakly punching the air. He’s having a nightmare but he looks unharmed. Hayfield screams again, making 1313 twitch. He shakes the unicorn who groans but his eyes don’t open. He tries again to no avail. Hmmm… if the others are in the same state, there’s no reason to go and check up on them. Finding the source of the gas is more important. It’s risky. Having to deliberately breathe in the gas to know where it’s coming from while fighting to stay awake is bound to be. To his shock, however, 1313 only needs to take a few steps before finding a tiny, thin, slowly burning incense stick hidden behind a stump of a broken tree. He sticks the burning end into the mud, extinguishing the scent almost immediately. Meditate and steel your mind against potential influence. So this IS your test, Beacon.  1313 returns to his meditation spot and it takes only a few moments to find the incense stick responsible for his sleepiness. With it extinguished, the only thing ruining the peaceful night are the screams of the more annoying nobles who, in 1313’s mind, can only benefit from lack of sleep and a sore throat. At least they’ll shut up on the way back.  If only I could turn my ears off. The scent returns but this time 1313 is ready. As he jumps up, he finds himself facing… a pony. Even his not fully changeling eyes are good enough to see in the dark, yet his brain is failing to understand what he’s looking at. It’s an earth pony. The blood red, chewed-up, pointy, wide brimmed hat on his head doesn’t allow space for a horn. From underneath it, 1313 can see strands of grey, aged mane. He’s wearing a matching coat, not a natural coat but an actual article of clothing as ragged and faded as the hat, yet tightly bound around the almost unnaturally thin pony. Around his neck hangs a saddlebag covered in silver studs, its straps so tight it doesn’t move at all as the pony takes a step towards 1313. Come to think of it, a saddlebag accessible from the front makes SO MUCH more sense for ponies than one hanging on the side of their barrel. The two weird- weirdest things about him are what makes 1313’s hair stand on edge. One - even at night he’s wearing round, metal spectacles with pitch black glass, completely blocking 1313’s view of his eyes. Two - his right foreleg, at least the lowest third not covered by the coat, is… a mess. It looks like griffon talons but made of scorched, black flesh. He doesn’t even limp or anything, though, so it can’t be a crippling wound. 1313 levitates up his sword. The pony tilts his head and the corner of his mouth curls up.   The changeling isn’t a fighter, that much must be clear to anyone, but this can’t be anything other than another test. The pony only takes a step back to avoid the amateurish wide swing of his sword and as the blade is passing in front of him, he catches it with his disfigured foreleg. Bright blue flame bursts out of the leg, turns green for a moment, and- *** 1313 groans and opens his eyes. “Welcome back to the land of the conscious, Blueblood,” he hears Beacon’s voice and immediately sits up. His internal clock catches up with the infiltrator and informs him that he’s been unconscious for only roughly half an hour.  “AAH!” he yelps as he turns his head and finds the weird earth pony sitting on the trunk of a broken tree. So it WAS Beacon’s friend. “First time seeing a witch hunter?” growls the earth pony. “This is the first time I am seeing a witch hunter,” Platinum Heart replies instead, “I doubt the prince had the opportunity.” 1313 nods. There are only the four of them in the small clearing surrounded by a shimmering golden dome which must be invisible from the outside because no one could miss it at night and 1313 had no clue it was nearby. A small fire pit is happily crackling in the center of the clearing being tended to by Platinum Heart. “What is a witch hunter?” asks 1313, shifting position to be sitting with his back to the fire and facing both Beacon and the witch hunter. The earth pony only grunts at him. “Don’t be like that, Eis,” says Beacon in a suddenly surprisingly warm tone 1313 didn’t think the paladin grandmaster was capable of, “Fine,” Beacon rolls his eyes, “This grumpy old sod is Hufeisen, one of the last, if not the last, witch hunter. They used to be a… group of earth ponies trained to fight darkness like us paladins, although using vastly... different methods. I enlisted his help for tonight to test the mental resilience of my reserves and it seems like only you, Blueblood, passed.” Hufeisen snickers with no following explanation. “Hufeisen, that’s not a pony name, right?” asks 1313. “Been neglecting your history and language studies, prince?” Hufeisen cracks an evil smile.   “It’s not a name from ponish, rather from the language of old Germaney,” explains Beacon, “Translated, it would mean ‘horseshoe’. Not that it particularly matters, since it’s not Eis’ real name anyway.” Hufeisen shoots him a murderous glare which, to 1313’s surprise, makes Beacon look away and add: “It’s a witch hunter thing, don’t worry about it. They traditionally used to make a pact with a demon for power and that leg is the mark left behind.” “That doesn’t sound, uhh, safe,” comments 1313. “It’s perfectly safe,” Hufeisen examines the twisted foreleg, “The demon has been purged from reality. If they weren’t I wouldn’t be here.” “They make the pact early to weed out those who can’t handle the power. If they go nuts, they either get hunted down or the demon takes what’s theirs. If they fail to grow in power in time, the demon takes what’s been promised in the pact as well,” lectures Beacon, staring at 1313, “They summon one which can take the advantage of their weakness the most, be it laziness or greed, prince Blueblood,” he narrows his eyes, “or something entirely different.” “The only way was to destroy the demon completely before your timer was up,” Hufeisen chuckles, “We didn’t have all the time in the world to train like these two lightbulbs,” he nods to Beacon and Platinum Heart. “But you both protect Equestria, right?” asks 1313, growing more and more puzzled as to why he’s here. “No,” growls Hufeisen, “They do.” “Come on, Eis...” “I helped you tonight for old times’ sake,” the witch hunter stands up, “You have your answers, and I’m expecting my wine. Say hello to thickest thighs for me,” he tips his hat to the paladins, stares at 1313 for a second through his weird shades, chugs something from a small vial he pulls out from his neck saddlebag, and as soon as he touches the golden dome surrounding the clearing he vanishes into thin air. Beacon shakes his head. “Well, I guess that’s that,” he looks at 1313, “Return to your post, Blueblood. It’s only a short way from here. I’m sure somepony of your intelligence and breeding can find their way.” As 1313 stands up to leave, Beacon clears his throat and adds: “And if I were you I’d spend some time thinking about how to craft a pair of earplugs or it’s going to be a long and irritating night.” *** It’s late afternoon on Sunday when 1313 stumbles once again through the barred gate of Blueblood estate garden, only to see Zamira standing on guard by the door leading inside the mansion itself begin striding towards him. He smiles and gives her his saddlebag, saying: “Thank you. It’s all there.” *** In a similar fashion, princess Celestia looks up from a stack of papers on her desk when she hears a high-pitched bell toll a quiet ‘ting!’ behind her. “Grandmaster Beacon, to what do I owe this pleasure?” “Pleasure might not be the right word. This is about Blueblood.” Celestia groans, lowering her head on her desk. “What did he do this time?” “He passed this weekend’s training with flying colors.” “What the-?” Celestia bolts upright, “I mean, that’s excellent!” “No, not excellent. Let’s have a little chat.”