//------------------------------// // 1: And past death, he wasn’t granted pearly gates. // Story: The Unicorn Knight // by Ace of Blackjack //------------------------------// I had passed as I wanted, with an honour that most people never had. I died in a fair battle, my skill was beaten, my pride bruised. And I laid, blood gurgling up from inside. My shield laid cracked in two on my chest, indented, worthy. I’ll die with it in my grasp, enemies may struggle to separate it from my grasp. It hurts, worse than hours of sparring, wooden blades have nothing on the real deal. I am cocky, blinded by a light of war, the thrill of pain was glorious. I enjoyed hours of conflict without end, I was bred for conflict. With each swing, each report, every attack I tried to throw over a shield. I’d die a fools death, worn down and attacked on all angles.  But I died viewing my enemy in their eyes, all that shown in them was a rage against me and who I fought for. He fought for himself, his keep, the villages surrounding it. I had died in honour of a lord who understood me, who fought alongside us.  We were his knights, and he was our leader. I know he'd demand my burial rights, a peasants burial is what I wanted. I didn't wanna be buried with my steed, she'd live on without me. No, I wanted to be buried with my sword and Shield, armour, where I was going, would not be needed. It would slow me down, walking to meet who created me. Meeting our creator, whoever they are, I hope they understand my doubts, my insecurities and all my uniqueness. I screamed out one last time on the battlefield, the white armour I wore stained from conflict, my blood mingling with the ones I've slain. My grasp released as I finally faded away.  The Unicorn Knight has finally died.  “What happens when I die?” “I don't know, depends on your beliefs young one, I was one to believe anything was possible if you believed hard enough.” I felt clean, unphased. My mouth didn't taste death, blood didn't stain my mouth, all was clean. I was in the grass, the feeling rubbing up against me felt wrong. I blinked open my eyes, clearing the sleep from them was no easy feat. I was tired, my body ached from weakness. Yet I didn't feel a sword grasped in my grip, not my heavy than average shield resting on my chest. I couldn't feel my fingers, had the bastards cut them off? Leave me fingerless in the afterlife?  Then my eyes focused and I could see, I could see that my vision was different, the world seemed to be viewed from a wide lens. Like a cathedral and its open door, the closer you get the bigger the outside world will seem. But as I focused forward I saw it extruding in my vision, a pearly white-furred muzzle. Equine, my angle meant it was coming from me. I wasn't in some afterlife, I was in a place where I am such a lovely creature.  I've heard stories of dying men seeing what they always wanted before they passed away, but this felt different somehow. Very different, I've seen the light brought about for me when I had first been injured. I had hoped for a unicorn to save me as I was loaded onto a cart of corpses, fictional creature or not, It was then after I had finished that prayer that the horse pulling the cart ran. My less dignified escape was seen by a few on the hill, they said a rat of large proportions had spooked the horse. But I know deep in my heart that the creature had been urged by something greater to move, a belief unlike any other. I unsteadily raised what should have been my arm into my vision, the foreleg of mine came into view. Pearly white like the rest of my fur, a great scar rested on it, long healed enough that I had to focus to see it over all the fur that healed around it. The scar on my leg jolted something in my mind at how I must look. I must look like the visage of a unicorn I hand-painted onto my hand forged shield. I take great pride in my craftsmanship, in all my battles I'm able to paint the unicorn back. All the scratches over it painted over, ring chips fixed, dents from great hammers, all fixed with grace so good I sometimes felt like I was in the wrong profession. But last battle and my shield were scratched to oblivion, I hope the one who fixed it had a steady hand.  I breathed deeply in, not smelling the smoke from where I was mere moments ago. I rolled onto my chest, well the terminology would be barrel now I believe. I glanced back behind me and paused. Besides the rainbow tail that had shiny flakes of metal or something, there was an image on the flank. Well my flank, how exciting actually!  It was of a teardrop shield, image on the shield was a cartoony half-sun and half-moon. Behind the shield was a sword, the hilt was familiar, but confusingly there was a forge hammer. I know how to use it, of course, I do, I forged it myself. All my tools, plates of armour, I even forged my sword. The only thing I hadn't forged was my shield, salvaged, a gift from my past that I had improved with time. Small metal reinforcements in strips, ridged and bumped. Most people expect the blade to clash off and stumble away, but striking an uneven surface causes an effect that you can feel in your shoulder. An uncomfortable ripple, it's creativity like that, creativity that meant I was still around to fight. But for all my advancements, the world of the knight was closing fast, weapons of black powder made armour smiths worry. Each hit from them would be your last, it's for the best I died facing an enemy I could see rather than die undignified laying in a ditch, my blade probably wouldn't have been drawn.  I stopped thinking and focused on moving, my body worked differently, no standing on two legs, back legs probably won't bend that much. Slowly I got my back legs up into a standing position, before I stood up fully I had a good look underneath myself. I collapsed back onto the ground with a dull thud. The pony on my shield was sorta feminine, but I had kinda hoped it didn't transfer. But yeah, I'm a girl now. Internalize the pronouns, it'll be Archer all over again. No slipping up on her pronouns, though them hiding as a man was brave or was stupid, and coming clean was also stupid. But under his suggestion, she was welcomed back fully.  If she has the strength to openly come out to everyone with a two-year long-secret then I can be a girl pony to fulfil my dreams. On a scale of escalation that’s pretty high, no feather weighed can break that big a jump of mental gymnastics. I stood up slowly, the tail fluff was quite fluffy, true to the way I had it painted on my armour. I breathed in a deep breath and looked around. Rolling hills surround me, blocking my view of what may be beyond them. What lies in the land of the unicorns? How did I end up here? My faith was strong, but what god had truly brought me here? What one would forgive me for the deaths I caused on my blade, forgive and let love enough to grant me such an honour. I took an uneven first step, sketching horses in the fenced-in yard helped me know how to move my legs when I walked. Though balance was something that I struggled with, I would not be running anytime soon, in a world of the afterlife why would I need to run?  The bottom of the smallest of the hills surrounding me was suddenly a lot steeper to me. I’ve fought off men ten times my strength, I’ve taken down siege towers with only my shield and sword. I won’t let a hill stop me, not when I’m so close to seeing the world I was placed in. The world and experience that was gifted to me. I took two steps up the hill before I stumbled back, landing with a dull thud I had hit my head. And felt something I was not surprised about, confirmation of the fact I was the drawing on my shield. A slender longhorn was atop my head, everything about it screamed to me that I should not let it take the full force of my body as it did a second ago. I shook my head, dirt-covered my head as I regained my footing, hoofing? Whatever you may call it, I stared at the hill and grumbled out many unrecognizable words. Are words unrecognizable? I only know one language, and I’m fluent in it. “Fick mich in meine Stutenflanke” I spoke it as though I was a novice at it, none of the words made any sense to me, not even a hint of recognition fluttered in my mind. Well except for the curse word and the word Stutten. It shouldn’t have been this bad, but it was bad, I don’t know my language anymore, the one language I know. I can’t speak it anymore, it’s so very bad! I just feel an uncomfortable rage inside me, this hill was an opponent equal to me currently. I slammed a hoof into the dirt in anger, tearing out a chunk of the dirt rather satisfactory. I smirked and managed to side shuffle and smacked the dirt again, ripping out a bigger chunk of dirt and grass. It honestly felt good, like hitting a sparing dummy to focus and clear the mind.  I did it again and again until it got hard to walk in that direction with my wonky balance and the many uneven holes. It was releasing, a new body granted to me, and I lack the coordination to walk up a slight hill. And now I’m hungry, do unicorns eat grass? Will I get kicked back to some lifeless existence if I eat grass? Is there a bad type of grass? There probably are, just like how Morning Glory and Saint James flowers are dangerous and potent if used wrong. And I'm still sore and worn out. I'll sleep and think on it for a night, to dream, of what? My dreams have been fulfilled, all that's left to think about in the past. And that's gonna be uncomfortable because of my many changes, and also gender change. That's a big one, though it ain't eating away at my mind as I would have thought. It should right? It doesn't matter, do I sleep standing up or will I be okay to curl up on the floor? The grass doesn't make me itch, it's welcoming, like a warm hearth after long marches.  “Why does the Unicorn Knight pledge themselves to me?” “Home to rest my blade, no more mercenary work, a proper stable for my girl, and honour in service.” “You will find much more here than just what you seek, but I ask again, why specifically me?” “With great respect, I honestly just like the tapestries more than other places.” I awoke in a dream state, everything felt visceral. The world folded out around me, I started out at a burning town. And I looked down at myself, I was the current me. But I stood over the past me, their hand grasping the shield tightly. My painting on it smudged with dirt, mud, blood.  I looked at my old me, the shield broke in two, right down the middle breaking the painting into two. It's technically a self-portrait, just hadn't known it at the time. I stepped forward, this dream bending the rules of myself as I stepped without stumbling to my old self. I stared down at myself, all of my graceful death, and my golden curls. I looked at my rainbow tail and couldn't help but be upset over that, not that I was staring at my old dead self, no I was upset over my hair no longer being golden locks. But I don't cry long, I sniffled once and stopped crying. I heard the sounds of hoof falls in snow, I didn't know what to think of the creatures this dream may possess. The awake world may be paradise waiting but the dream world may be filled with the demons expelled from it. I looked down once more and made a decision fitted for a lord, new body, I won’t be going back under any circumstances.  I slammed a hoof onto my corpses hand, the hand breaking into chunks of gore as I pulled the blade out from my old grasp and into my mouth. The taste of battle was rank, but it's my blade, a rose in the crossguard, hours of work, weeks of practice to get it quite perfect.  I turned to face a pony who was rapidly approaching, but as they got into view the corpse on the ground changed, with subdued horror the body that was me changed to that of a white pony, their mane a dull red colour. Though the sparkling metal like items glistened in their hair as mine did. A butt mark of a strange straight blade, but none of that mattered at the moment. I turned around with the blade in my mouth, and parts of my mind went into work. Parts that I figured translated over from previous experiences, though how they applied to this body I didn't know.  I adjusted my stance, twisted my blades angle facing outwards slightly up towards the sky. The black inky dream state sky. I could feel the atmosphere change as an imposing force of an outline walked towards me. My mind raced, launch a preemptive attack, jump high enough and you can get to the back of their neck, dodge whatever weapon may be at their front. I waved away those thoughts, this pony needs to be heard or else they wouldn't walk towards me in a straight line if they wished to fight me. They stopped before they got close enough for me to harm them with my blade, his blade? No, it's still my blade, a different body changes none of that. This pony was easily bigger than I was, behind them was a wingspan larger than any I've seen or heard about in any fairy tale. The horn on their head was long, slender. A winged unicorn? Fascinating, to have paper or canvas to draw this out, but this dream realm may not want me to do exactly that. Then they opened their mouth to speak. “My Little Pony, what is causing you such fears, to imagine all of this? A dead pony at your hoofs and a city burning behind you.” They spoke so regally, I was in the presence of royalty, I could tell from their voice alone. I bowed down to them in the most humbling way I could think of, it felt undignified still, sticking my rump so far into the sky. I meant to speak but I was afraid the moment I dropped my sword I would lose it, even holding it felt connecting. This royalty didn't wait for an answer, they stepped past me, their horn glowing. And with the sound of broken glass, the visage of a burning village broke into shards. They turned towards me curiously.  Their horn glowed with luminosity as they tugged at my sword, via a vague glow and powers that sorcerers have said many times that they have. And yet here I am face to face with more magic than I've ever seen. I held my blade firmly, much to the dismay of the royal. They quit tugging and looked at me recognition crossed her face as her horn flashed a bright blue quickly.  A thin section of me was illuminated brighter than fire itself. I thrashed for a second maintaining my ability to stand. Before I stopped as the light faded, placing my eyes precariously onto the leather strap around my body, resting there was a rather simple looking Scarborough. I sheathed the sword and looked at this royal. How would I introduce myself? My name is in a language I can speak but not understand. Fake names maybe? But being dishonest with her seems wrong on an emotional level I can not tell. I breathed in looking at her, the fate of my time here depends on what I say next. “Heylo-” The ears on my head went flat, very bad time for a voice crack, extremely bad timing.  “I had expected an adult would behave better than a little filly, scared out of your mind, your only comfort being a sword that you held with trained prowess. Historians are so-” Something told me to connect what she had said, I ain’t no historian, I was what historians would write about in hundreds of year's, write about the other me, as my legend here has yet to begin.  “I'm no Historian, I'm a roaming Blades,” I paused looking for some words of encouragement, something at all. “Master, I'm a master of the blade, from smithing to usage and training.” The royal cringed, reaching a hoof out and lifting my head to look me in the eyes.  She smirked slightly, “Then tell me your name, so I may ask for your services on an item I need.” She took her hoof away letting my head sink downtrodden. I haven't got a name she can call me. All this and I don't have a name to say. Did I ever have a name to be called by my friends? My Brothers in arms? They just all called me Unicorn, did they ever actually care enough to ask my name?  “I am, uh,” My name to me is dead if I don't know what it means in the slightest. “You may call me Traverse Bläde, it's what I call myself.” Half-Speak the meaning of telling lies without lying, certain phrasing and you may pass all truth questions. It’s wasn’t my name, but it will pass as a new name, as odd as it is to say.  “Well I'll make sure to meet you with a bargain, I feel different, armour has been worn out, will you be capable of fixing it?” They asked, the armour they wore was strangely shaped, more of a chest defence, no actual armour design that can be practical. But it has some telltale signs of age like the armour had been unused for many years. “Strange composition, but I may be able to fix a few fixes if I know the heating strength needed to mould it, also whenever I do figure out where exactly I am.” I paused as the vague black void around me. “You wouldn't happen to be able to tell where I was if I told you a vague description now would you?” I walked slightly towards the royalty and bowed down. “I see the world around where you sleep, a traveller without even a cover to cover themselves, what would you do if it started to rain?” She asked me as the void of blackness faded away replacing the world with the ground I had fallen asleep on. All the little indents in the grass from me hitting the earth repeatedly.  “You are the small knolls surrounding a place called The Abbey, warriors of the past came there to participate in rituals, but now it's just an Inn.” She pointed off in the direction opposite of the hill I tried to walk up. “In the early light head there, you can stray to follow the old traditions, a blade master should do the rituals right?” She looked at me with a smirk, something tells me that I should not disobey her ‘suggestion’. “If I scream would someone come to find and help me back? Or would I be on the edge of somebody's aggression?” She looked perplexed, slightly frightened maybe. Nonetheless, she answered. “Unless you did something to warrant their anger, then all they would be upset about is you waking them up.” If this was any different then I would let a lord speak for me, but I am in a new world, forging a story of my choosing, not swearing my blades to any person, or well anypony.  “And what can I call you royalty?” This surprised her more than anything, as though I had just punched the court jester for picking on my scar brand.  “Princess.. Luna?” She practically mumbled out barely seeming to understand as I frantically prepared out the morning. Maybe if I learn how to run then I can just tumble up the hill with enough force. “I’ll see you later Princess Lunar. Princess of the dream realm.” She practically reached out to steady me as I frantically tried to wake the sleeping visage of myself on the floor. “Have you escaped a mental asylum, are you related to a Screw-” Her voice faded away as the dream realm stopped existing. “And why must I bow to the royalty of a land so far I'd die before my steed arrives at their gate?”  “Royalty of all types, scribe requires respect unless you decide to try your luck. Your luck is your most potent item, you can off-put a royal with the right words. Topple the throne metaphorically.” “My name is Sash Adeir, though you can me Glitter. Don’t call me just Scribe, improper language as is.” “Whats a glitter Sash?” I woke up frantically, stumbling to my hoofs, the balance and grace of movement I had seen in the dream realm was absent in the waking world. All I could feel underneath me was grass, the grass I was somehow feeling through solid pearl white hoofs?  But that hadn't mattered all at once, it was secondary. My bashful nature had been brash towards the royal, off-putting them gained me precious info. Location, and a way to get out. “Help me! Someone please!” The tone of my voice made me cringe, but it sounded desperate. The noise was replaced by two thumps behind me. Wings flaring as I looked in the low light at a pony with bat wings and horrid little fangs. “Hey, are you-” My hoof connected with their face in pure reaction, a creature with dragon wings just landed behind me. They stumbled, and then a sword was drawn from a scarborough on their side, the rose in the hilt, the imperfect blade. It was my blade, far from my burial and home. “You just hit the knight of The Night, apologise or face my wraith!” I smacked them again, their wings going out before they fell forward. Great, that's a rescue failed. My own, for once I'm the damsel in distress.