“Ah, a head on strike,” Pelios exclaimed as Ray’s sword glanced off the metal of a helmet they were using to practice.
“Very funny,” Ray testily replied, stepping back and raising his sword again. The yellow-tinted stallion smiled at him as Ray tilted the blade ever so slightly so it was at a roughly sixty degree angle to his face. Sweeping it down in a short, slicing motion, he once again cut it into the dented helmet. As he withdrew, he murmured under his breath, “Don’t even know why I’m doing this. I use a spear.”
“You use a kharamh,” Skalos corrected around the blade in his mouth. He had his own blade and target helmet, though his was significantly less damaged. “Besides, you’ll have a sword anyways as a sidearm, so you might as well train yourself in its proper application.”
“Well you don’t need to train with a sword,” Ray pointed out, raising his sword for another swift strike. “We’ve already deduced that you probably would give them papercuts with the amount of force you have behind those strikes.”
“True, but consider this,” Pelios offered, grunting as he attempted to strike hard enough against his own helmet. “What if we have to fight more than just minotaurs on the other side of the world? What if there were some sort of creepy crawlies that presented a threat to us over there, too small for our strap-ons?”
“First of all, please stop calling those spears strap ons,” Ray asked the ignorant Fallen. “And second, swords would be better for spiders… why exactly? I mean, I could stomp on them easily, and we wouldn’t have to clean swords or anything.”
“C’mon, lordling, we’re talking about a whole new continent, untouched by ponykind before,” Pelios pressed, pausing from his practice to use his hooves to exaggerate his point. Pointing out to the wall of the cavern as a figurative horizon, the Fallen asked, “Who knows what it’ll be like out there, across the world? I mean, those spiders out there could be bigger than you!”
“In which case a spear would be the most useful,” Ray fired back readily, shaking his head and spinning his sword around. “It all comes back full circle.”
“Idiots, ya know we practice swords t’day ‘cause Skalos doesn’t have anythin’ planned for us today,” a fourth voice echoed in, chuckling as he approached. Turning to find Garish, a reddish pegasus with a bit of a chip in his shoulder, quite literally, Ray smiled, giving Skalos a quick glance. “He didn’t expect the archers to have somethin’ preplanned today, seein’ as they neva do, and lo and behold, the one day he needs ‘em for a skirmish, they're gone.” Pausing to consider his words, he pointed across the flat plains, to where the archers, far off by quite a ways, but still in sight, were practicing formations or something. “Well, I guess gone isn’t quite the word I’m lookin’ for.”
“Careful, Garish,” Skalos warned, giving the stallion a firm glance. “Whatever you say to the lordling can be held against you as he is our general, and as his right-hand man, I’ll follow whatever orders he gives me regarding your punishment.”
“Eh, our lordling, unlike your stiff ass, can take a joke,” the Fallen jeered, stepping beside Ray.
Cocking his best cheeky smile to date, Ray reminded the stallion, “You know, as my right-hand man, insulting Skalos is not only insulting a superior, but also an insult to me. On top of that, I’ve told you not to curse before, and you just disobeyed a direct order.” Pointing his finger to the road that ran alongside the entirety of the cavern walls, he instructed, “Take a lap, Private. Running.”
“Ah ya gotta be shi- … Yessir,” the stallion endured, deciding against his hot-headed nature and accepting the order from Ray.
Begrudgingly, the stallion began to run his course, and watching the Fallen’s obedience, Ray called after him, “Make that only half a lap. We’ll still need you in a few minutes.”
“Yessir,” the pegasus called behind his back, his pace quickening as he became visibly less exhumed.
As Ray watched the stallion jog away, Skalos finally seemed to be satisfied with the amount of damage that had been dealt on the helmets, carefully sheathing his blade in a holster beside the dummy that held the helmet up. The Fallen turned his head sharply to the left and right, loud snaps splitting the momentary silence. Taking it as the stallion’s sign that they were done, Ray playfully spun the blade around a few times between his fingers before sheathing his own sword in his sidearm holster. He’d had some extra time to learn the delicate technique of spinning a blade on his own accord, but as of yet, there had been no practical use for it other than showing off.
Cracking his own sore knuckles, he worked as much tension out of them as possible. Clenching his fist for hours at a time had become a daily workout as their training over the past few days had become more rigorous in the way they worked as a unit. They had been practicing several different types of training, well, mostly Ray, while the other Fallen remained within the realms of their skill sets. By far, the skirmishes were the funnest out of them, also being the most rigorous as it required him to run the complete mile and a half from one end of the cavern to dead in the center in an unbroken charge.
He knew that training wasn’t meant to be fun by any means, but oftentimes, in spite of himself, he found he enjoyed his time down in the caverns more than above the ground, in the sunlight. The refreshing coolness of the cavern reflected the sharp chill in the air as fall had briskly set in. Ray had yet to set up an appointment with Rarity to fit him a jacket or two for when winter truly set in and the layers of snow fell, as he’d been warned it would. With a soft smile, he put his hand against the fabric of his dummy, the torn fabric of missed slices and strikes underneath his hand revealing his mistakes with rough hay poking through.
Turning around, he stared out over the force of some five hundred Fallen following in suit, tucking away their swords as they stretched out their sore necks. There was a comfort in the sheer number of them that followed and trained with him without question. He knew just from looking at them that they were all Foals, or at least mostly, the remaining being Moderates that leaned more towards the Foals’ point of view. As he had spent more time with the Fallen, he began to visibly see the different ways that they held themselves up, revealing their different ideologies.
The Foals held themselves upright completely, but in a relaxed way, their actions rhythmatic more than metronomic. They walked quicker than the other Fallen as well, moving quickly because they felt the need to get from one place to another. In spite of all being the same age, the Foals certainly felt the youngest of the Fallen, and even seemed to think they were. Oftentimes, they seemed to try and compensate for the mindset they put themselves in with the same attitude that Garish held himself in. It was an interesting contrast to what he’d expected all of the Fallen to be.
The Grims were much more what he had expected when he first looked over the entirety of the Fallen those few months back, a strict, uptight group of hardened soldiers with knowledge that far surpassed his own. The only thing that came as a surprise about them was the way they didn’t seem to hold themselves as superior to him, even though they most definitely were in both skill and maturity. When he stood around with them or talked with them, they put themselves down at every chance they could in the subtlest ways. A simple comment about a certain speed that they used to drag themselves down as slow and unfit. A slow nod following a simple statement that they attempted to take more out of then meant, then apologizing for attempting to understand. It didn’t even seem to be of their own accord that they did it, simply a habit that they used.
The Moderates were- quite fittingly -the most normal of the group, not relaxed, but never pensive. They walked around like the ponies he saw in town all of the time, going where they needed, but not rushing to be there or attempting to be right on time. They seemed to be the most cohesive members of the Fallen’s society, keeping the two differing ideologies they shared views with from too many verbal clashes. Whether it was because of Ray’s presence bringing discipline on both sides or simply because the Fallen were now truly mobilizing, he hadn’t witnessed a single conversational battle in the time he’d spent here.
The rapid progression of Fallen training had doubtlessly been brought about by Ray’s arrival and his true adoption into the depths of Tartarus, as evidenced by how hurried everything now was. They had obviously been training for a long time before he even arrived in Equestria, with schedules of the old drilling days carved into some of the community ramadas. Now, however, the training was daily, with the open fields of the Fallen’s plains being filled with thousands of bodies being commanded in dozens of differing blocks by hundreds of commanders, generals, and even Ray himself. It seemed like every day, the war took a step further towards them, a darkness creeping through them.
Shuddering at the thought, he pushed it aside. The war was going to come on another day, so dreading it today did nothing good for them. Still, as he looked out over the some five hundred Fallen talking with one another, sharing jokes or comparing progress on their own helmet targets, made of wood for lack of material, he remembered the terrible toll this war was going to take. A soft sadness blanketed him, making him frown as he observed unfortunate souls attempting to be better than their past selves. With the way this war could end, he wanted nothing more than to ensure every Fallen he saw would survive the dreadful endeavor.
Skalos was suddenly beside him, sharing Ray’s gaze across the small number of Fallen that were packing up in preparation for the next drill. “Well,” the Fallen asked softly, his head turning up to look at Ray.
“I’m looking at corpses,” Ray muttered even quieter, not entirely sure Skalos would even hear him. “Not every one of them is gonna make it out of this alive. I'm not even sure if I’ll make it out alive.”
“Aye,” the stallion agreed hollowly, his head turning out to the crowd, then beyond, to where other Fallen were practicing their own different drills. There was a moment of pause before Skalos admitted, “I have the same thought every time I see them. It's a painful thought to bear.”
“How do you deal with it,” Ray inquired, more curious than actually desperate. “I can hardly handle it when I happen to think about the war, and I’ve barely met a third of them.”
“I think it may be harder for you to say a good-bye to them than for me,” Skalos replied. “You see, I’ve lived with these mares and stallions for so long, I view most of them as family more than as friends. I’ve had hundreds of years to learn each of their names and I’ve had as many years to learn to love them in spite of our different views. Having all these years together, stuck below the ground, I’ve seen us all fade into our Fallen states, and I’ve seen the rise of our three different ideologies. With all of this time, I hadn’t met a new pony, save Twilight. I’ve been stuck around the familiar, and as much as I do love my brothers and sisters, it’s become old. We all feel it, the creeping of time, and now that we have something to look to on the horizon, even if it is a war, it gives us a future, a fresh breath.
“You know, I was the first Fallen in centuries to see the sun, the first to touch true, soft, brown soil and feel the brushing of grass against my fetlocks. The first time I went to the surface, I was left alone by Twilight to familiarize myself with the surrounding areas. I cried the entire time I was above the surface,” Skalos reminisced with a subtle smile Ray almost missed. “You see, the first time my brothers and sisters, we Fallen, go above the surface together, there will be countless tears shed, and mine will be among them. The coming of this war brings dread to us all, lordling, but this terrible reward for our treachery reintroduces us to the world, allowing us to be ponies once again, even if for the last time. The pain will be indescribable, but the joy too.”
An eerily bright, whimsical smile crossed Skalos’ face, the first time Ray had ever seen Skalos truly relaxed and happy. It was a warming smile, one that made Ray share his own soft smile with the Fallen, a smile that seemed to be an admission to his emotions. Their eyes met, and Ray saw a deep truth in them, one that sent ice through his heart even as his smile brightened. It went unsaid as Skalos turned away to finish his own cleanup operations, but Ray heard it in spite of deafening silence.
“It doesn’t matter if I die since I’ll have truly lived. Good-bye.”
“Your time is up now,” Skalos said behind him, his voice too bright for the dark cavern. “You think you can take the waypoint back on your own today, or do you wish for me to assist you again?”
“No, no I can do it on my own,” Ray hoarsely answered, beginning to walk off. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Skalos.”
“‘Til tomorrow, lordling,” Skalos replied kindly, the staleness still refusing to return to his voice as he continued packing up.
Ray walked away from the group of Fallen just as Garish was returning to the pack, a friendly smile on his face as he recognized Ray was leaving. He nodded respectfully to Ray, not saying anything as they passed each other, though it was most likely because he was panting too heavily to get anything out. Passing behind a group of jogging Fallen with their lances strapped on their sides, he took a winding, but familiar path that slowly wound its way around the city and to the top of the layer. It passed behind several buildings, though all but one was completely dark, as the Fallen tended to have it.
While at first he had been readily intrigued by the lightened buildings, he had quickly learned that they were merely the centers that served as miniature post offices and community discussion areas. They only had a small portion indoors that wasn’t filled with endless stacks of paper, gallons of ink, and piles of quills, with random items required for writing in between. He had once taken a very short trip into it out of curiosity, and had left quite bored, though more educated than before. The Fallen truly functioned as their own society while the rest of the world progressed above them.
Ray shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the stinging pang of sorrow that remained with him from his nonverbal conversation with Skalos. It wasn’t the best idea to allow emotion to interfere with his concentration while he committed the spell of teleportation at the daypoint. Taking a deep breath in and out, he calmed himself enough to trust that he could complete the full enchantment without a problem. Entering into the small house that led to the thin corridor, he mentally reengaged himself.
Even though he had committed the entire magical chant to memory, he wanted the minute reminder to secure his knowledge. Skalos had blessed him with access to the daypoint and the enchantment to use it as soon as he could, which was a few days after they moved on from the archery lessons. It had been the most intellectually challenging part of the training so far, but it was also one of the most important, as daypoints, waypoints, and darkpoints would be the main way of communication and transportation on the other side of the sea. He had learned in only a few hours how to use all three, and even how to make one if he had to, though since he wasn’t magical, he needed a unicorn to activate it.
Before he knew it, he was to the daypoint, the dim room subtly lit by the glow of the light on the other side of the portal. The entire Fallen nation knew of its existence, however, there didn’t seem to be an attempt, or even want, of escape from their imprisonment. In spite of the complaints of some of the Fallen like the Separationists, there had never been truthful talks of leaving until his arrival, and even then, when they talked about it, it was always a far-off thing, not an instantaneous event. These were the sort of things he was beginning to discover on his own as he began to talk to his comrades and new friends more, and not from Skalos solely.
It was exciting to become as involved with the Fallen as he had and so soon, but it was still clear the several things that separated him from the rest. The obvious and biggest one was, in fact, his much larger size, that made him crouch whenever he wanted to speak to them, which he was used to thanks to his normal friends. He laughed at that as he bent down to inspect the symbols scrawled around the daypoint. Ray had begun to find himself doing that much more often on his own, laughing at things like thinking small, technicolor ponies were his “normal” friends.
Quickly, he wiped away emotion, intense focus taking over as he began the rotation around the daypoint. He forced himself into thoughtlessness as he quoted the same gothic chant that Skalos had used, still not knowing the exact definition of each word he spoke. He didn’t need to know it though, merely recite every intricate, tongue-twisting word of the dialect, to feel his mouth move and hear the mystic words flow. As his finger traced across the soft soil crevices that formed the figures of the oblong ponies, he closed his eyes, yelling fiercely, “Rafsa!”
As soon as the word left his mouth and echoed in the chamber, he felt a warmth pass through his body, starting at his finger as a golden glow caught up to him. He could see the brightness through closed eyelids, squinting as he continued on his path, pushing his finger underneath the coat of sunlight to continue tracing. With a passionate swivel, he passed around the curve of the circle, feeling the eye carved into the ground, a mark of the halfway point. His finger running around the corona of the eye, he shouted, “Ankishuri!”
Ray felt the entire ring pulse as the outer ring exploded in light and warmth. Every part of him was warm in the most soothing way, drawing a comfortable smile from him. Pulses of surging warmth overtook him as he continued on his circling, finishing the inner ring with a victorious, swift removal of his finger from the eye, calling the light to take him.
“Jahez!”
In an instant, the entirety of his vision was consumed in white, and knowing it was a comfortably blinding light, he opened his eyes and stared around in peaceful awe. He liked this, the peaceful white that surrounded him, the warmth that filled him, and the stillness that seemed to go on for years, a moment of thoughtless tranquility of nothing.
The sudden snap as he was transported into the next daypoint in the hill. Shaking his head to clear his vision, he walked through some of the floating light that remained, the room slowly regaining its sunlight that had been drained into the Tartarus side of the daypoint. Stepping through the door that was already propped open, he stared out across the lake, a thin layer of ice crusting the shores of it and a thin frost remaining on the grass, even though it was almost noon. There had yet to be any snowfall, but any time in the next few days the pegasi were planning it.
It was still a rather strange thing that the ponies controlled the weather, but it was sometimes refreshing to know whether to expect a rainy or sunny day. Trudging across the stiff grass, he shoved his hands into his pockets to keep the chill out for a bit longer. The sun was blazing brightly today, with not a cloud in the sky, but it was a hollow light that failed to provide any warmth. He needed a jacket to get through the winter, seeing as it was a mad dash to get from the doorway of his house to the daypoint and the arcanic warmth it provided early in the morning. Otolo had even begun to stay inside, though it did make her much more energetic and impatient.
Smiling at the thought of the little bird that had stayed behind simply to be with him, he took the last few steps over the incline, to where he was looking over the entire Acres. The leaves had fallen completely from the branches with the onset of fall and rapidly approaching winter, only a few resilient leaves remaining on the branches. The Running of the Leaves had failed to knock down any of the trees’ leaves, as the path around Ponyville didn’t include anywhere close enough to the Acres. It didn’t matter much, as the Apples traditionally let the leaves fall of their own accord, using the hundreds of thousands of fallen leaves as anything from firestarters to a natural blanketing on their chicken coops.
There was still a thin layer of brown and red leaves that blanketed the ground between trees, but for the most part, the last week of cleanup had taken care of a majority of the leaves. The remaining, skeletal looking trees gave the Acres a haunting atmosphere, which had certainly added to Nightmare Night festivities. Ray had decided not to try and take part in any of the occurring events, instead getting together with Rarity, Fluttershy, and Discord. They hadn’t done much, just sat around talking about the various aspects of their lives they felt important enough for one another to enjoy while the CMC were out trick-or-treating.
The strangely human custom was one of many that the ponies seemed to celebrate around the same timeframe, though they were much different in origin. Nightmare Night was a semi-celebration of Princess Luna and a remembrance of Nightmare Moon that reminded the adults of the cost of greed. After having personally met the Princess on a few occasions, he found it interesting she was open enough to leaving the holiday to be. Though he had been told by basically everybody else that Luna had a soft, joking side to her, he had only been treated to the stiff, calculating part.
Either way, with the festivities now over, the next major thing coming up was the ball that Twilight had said he would need to attend. While he wasn’t completely opposed to attending, now that he’d had a taste of peacefulness in the past month, he didn’t want to break it by meeting with and discussing war with the most important creatures in Equestria. However, as always, duty called, and he found that he was headed to a scheduled appointment with Rarity to fit himself with a suit worthy for such an occasion.
He didn’t have to worry about any work today, seeing as most of the Apple family was once again out on business runs of one type or another. Ever since harvest had ended, they had set to the task of selling any extras they had to various different companies that were looking to stock up before the winter stagnation. Ray had made a few runs, but not outside of the town, as both he and the Apples weren’t quite sure how the customers would react to a giant, hairless bipedal proposing sale pitches over fruit and lumber. Besides, even though word about the human had spread around, a fair amount of the information that had spread was false.
It was actually a slight concern to him as to what sorts of things were being said considering the human, especially any misgivings about his origins. It would be a bit awkward if he happened across a misinformed foal that ran off shrieking about the hairless monkey monster. Rainbow Dash had suggested that perhaps he should attempt to get his story out in the news so that anypony with questions would know not to worry. However, the mare had neglected to tell him exactly how to get around to that exactly, and he himself hadn’t attempted to look around for any sort of press coverage to set his story straight.
Ducking under the arch into the homestead of the Acres, he exited the groves and onto the small road leading back to Ponyville. He didn’t need to take the more private path through the Everfree, seeing as he was entering the town anyways to get to Rarity’s shop. Trudging down the path, rubbing his arms for a bit more warmth, he came over yet another bluff and into sight of the town. Smoke rose from various chimneys as ponies started to burn fires in the day to keep their homes warm. Ponies walked through the streets with ear muffs and small scarves to keep the places where fur was prevalent warm. All the while, Ray walked down in a simple T and shorts, his jeans dirtied by yesterday’s skirmish.
Making his way across the bridge over the lazy stream, he entered the town, the cobbled streets grinding away at well-worn sneakers. In spite of only receiving them a few months prior, the constant use of them, in both life and training, had worn them down. He could practically feel the stones through the soles of his shoes, which meant that sooner or later, he was going to have to ask for new ones. The unfortunate thing about living among ponies was their lack of knowledge for making such things out of durable materials that were not straight up metal. Even Rarity’s “fancy shoes” had metal bottoms, like horseshoes dressed up nicely.
Strolling through the center of town, he noted that he was no longer receiving the curious glances he once used to. Even though he hadn’t been too present in the community, living on the outskirts and having his schedule filled to not allow much free time, they had come to accept him as just another member of their town. There was a certain trust complex built between him and the citizens that acted as a check and balance of their interactions. The ponies wouldn’t do anything to give him reason to be uncomfortable as an outsider as long as he followed their social customs and cues.
By now, he knew, a majority of them had discovered or figured out that he was an omnivore, and that technically he was a predator among prey, though nopony mentioned it. They all acted the same around him, and he did his best to act as the gentle giant and not the person that would be needed to protect them. A number of them also had at least noticed that he mysteriously was absent in the mornings without explanation. Whether they suspected that it was something to do with another world, in theirs or not, was unknown to him, but he could guess that they suspected it was something to do with their Princess from their soft casual conversations.
Still, he went unimpeded through town, a few friendly nods of acknowledgement the only communication he had with the familiar, but unknown, faces. He arrived in front of Rarity’s shop within only a few minutes of leaving Tartarus, the sun having barely moved at all on its journey across the sky. Stepping up to the door, he rapped loudly against the wooden door, shaking his hand out at the slight pain of knocking with his cold knuckles. The knocking was met with a call from in the house, too muffled by the door to be heard, followed by the sound of hoofsteps scrambling down the stairs. Within a few seconds the door swung open, revealing a rather breathless, but exuberant Rarity.
A smile instantly split her face wide as she looked up at him. “Ah, Ray, perfect timing,” she exclaimed, gesturing with her hoof to crouch down for a hug. “I was just putting the finishing touches on one of two designs for your gallery!”
“My gallery,” he asked with a smile as he bent down and gave her the hug.
“Why yes,” she restated quickly. “You see, I couldn’t think of simply one design for you to wear to the privative gala, and given the importance of your appearance, as well as your unusual style as a human, I decided to give you two separate fashions to choose from, with four or five accompanying outfits of each style to single out.”
“Wow, ten designs,” he muttered in surprise standing up as he was ushered out of the cold and indoors by the mare. “You didn’t have to go so over-the-top for me.”
“Oh, trust me, darling, it was all on my own accord,” she said behind her back, her voice running a million words a minute. “I had the time and the inspiration to do fifty different designs if I had wanted to, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you with knowledge of the different cuts and drafts a suit could have. You see, it’s been a few months since I have had a true and thought-provoking challenge, so I have an unbelievable amount of pent-up energy. Oh, I can’t wait to see which one you’ll choose!”
Smiling at the mare’s enthusiasm, Ray only responded, “Whatever you say, Rarity."