Chapter 67
Letter sent via special courier, from Knight Hospitaller Puddle Jumper, Radiant, to Grand Master Steadfast Word, Mystic
Sir Steadfast,
My hoof is trembling as I write this, and it’s really hard to make the words come out and onto the page.
Lady Fairy Light wants us all to reach out to friends and family. She believes that maintaining our connections - even across ideological lines - will be really, really important for any sort of permanent peace.
I believe her, so I’m writing this letter.
I don’t know if she intended for me to write to you so much, given all the accusations that’ve been made about what you’ve been doing these last few years.
I don’t want to believe them. The Sir Steadfast I remember never would’ve committed murder to get further up the ladder; I remember a brave and good Knight, lifting up a young, ditzy squire who wasn’t sure if she would even make it as a Knight. I remember the day I was assigned to you, and your fatherly smile washed away my fear like the tide. I remember your patience with me as you listened to my worries, all the while being terrified that you would think I was being goofy and silly, or that you’d think I wasn’t up to the task.
I remember that you gifted me my first plushie; Sir Lloyd Llamountain, Esquire who was brave and perfect for fending off my nightmares.
You were the perfect mentor for me; you were exactly what I needed at the time, and you have been a comfort and a cherished friend for a long time.
And that is why I’m writing to you now.
I want so badly to reach out to that part of you that was kind to this young squire, who wouldn’t have made it through even her basic training without your help.
They say you’ve done terrible things, but I absolutely cannot and WILL not believe you are beyond help. You are a good pony who has been led astray by the same weird and scary stuff that everypony else in the Capital seems to be dealing with right now.
This IS something you can come back from. Please try.
The hooves of us Radiants are open to you - we can try together to make this right. And maybe that’s all it would take to have some form of peace between all of us again. Lady Fairy Light’s vision for a collective Knighthood at peace with itself could begin with one single, simple act.
You once told me I was really brave to seek you out for help with my insecurities and nightmares. I was brave and wise enough to know I needed help. Now, I’m begging you to be brave and wise.
Please bring back the Steadfast Word I remember. Bring back the brave and kind knight who once gave a young squire a small stuffed llama in a gift-wrapped box that changed her entire life.
I’ll be waiting to hear back from you, and hoping you take my plea to heart.
Always Your Friend,
Jumpy
New Canterlot City, 1113 AF
Steadfast Word held the legacy of his time as a mentor in his hooves.
He’d read the letter a hundred times in the night. It was better than sleeping.
He couldn’t sleep any longer. Nights were just one long nightmare, the screaming voices of the cold wind creeping into his ears and invading all of his thoughts.
There was only so much that adrenaline spells and copious amounts of coffee could do. But he couldn’t rest now; he had other matters to attend to.
Steadfast was at his desk. His bed was unused. No breakfast was coming; he had dismissed everypony from the Star Shine building who wasn’t a Knight.
There were so few he could trust. Even his own Knights were suspect.
His desk was a mess of papers and reports. Disorganization was the theme of the last several hours; letters and telegraphs, statistics and military dispatches, all mixed to create a pile of disharmony that filled him with unease.
It had made so much sense for him to keep his council, to wall off the Mystics from the others until he could determine the best path forward. What he hadn’t expected is that the various Grand Masters would begin to go their own way.
Lady Proud Stone, without his say-so, had laid siege to Diamond Home.
crush her skull between your hooves
her blood on your fur on your muzzle on your
make her hurt make her squeal
He clutched the letter to his chest. It seemed to drive the voices from the Machine away; at the least it dulled them to a quiet, indiscernible hum.
Three times in Steadfast’s life, he’d been privileged enough to mentor a squire. He’d sponsored several other ponies, including Emberglow.
Mentorship was one of the most wonderful and fulfilling duties he’d ever been blessed with. Helping to shape a young mind, to guide and grow a pony into a Knight, had always seemed both worthwhile and uncomplicated. Of course, it also didn’t hurt that usually a pony he’d mentored grew up to be loyal to his ideas and views for a united, uncorrupt Knighthood.
Jumpy certainly had. She'd possessed such a pure and naïve approach to life.
Of course he’d used her just like he’d used every other tool in his arsenal. But some ponies were like Brightblade, able to take on any job, no matter how dirty. Others, like Jumpy, had to be handled carefully, only being useful for certain roles.
But ponies were not just tools. And there was certainly a reason behind why he had followed this course. Peace. Victory. Freedom from corrupt inertia.
A Diarchy triumphant rather than stagnant.
“I’m doing this for you,” he whispered to the letter. For ponies like Jumpy, and thousands of others. Even if it cost him his own soul.
But everypony was conspiring to throw up roadblocks for him. Everypony who’d stood in his way, who’d had to die so he could take command. Lady Fairy and her asinine defection. Sir Heartwing and his meaningless invasion. And now Lady Proud Stone and her hasty action.
He’d already laid plans in place to take care of Lady Fairy, plans which had been unraveled by Proud’s ridiculous siege. Now the Radiants were on high alert, and the infant Angelic were on guard, making ingress by his agents nearly impossible.
And the voices from the Machine were howling for blood. Proud’s blood, Fairy’s blood, Jumpy’s blood, Emberglow’s blood.
bring her home make her pay
betrayed you like they always do
not yours never yours not your blood
He clutched the letter to his chest again, breathing through his nose until the voices subsided.
Around him, his silent room seemed to close in, the walls narrowing. His lungs burned with the need for fresh air, no matter how cold. With determination he stood, shoving the letter into the pocket of his robes.
He hadn’t changed since yesterday. His mane was a mess, and he probably had dark rings around his eyes. He didn’t care. He was sure that he wasn’t the only pony not getting much sleep these last few days. He hoped Lady Fairy was one of them.
Damn that mare for causing all of this.
He moved to the door and pulled it open, causing the two purple-armored guards outside to jerk to attention, eyes startled.
“Sir?” a mare asked. “Is there anything you need?”
“I’m going out.”
“Very well, sir, we can be ready with an entourage in a few moments.”
“Alone.”
There was visible discomfort on the two guards’ faces at that, but neither one was stupid enough to argue with him.
“Did you at least eat something today, sir?” one of them asked, and Steadfast looked up sharply. There was concern in the young Mystic’s eyes. “We’re worried about you.”
“Don’t be,” Steadfast spun, marching away. “Don’t let anypony into my quarters while I’m gone.”
He wasn’t sure why he felt he needed to say it.
“Sir, wait!” one of the guards braved. “If you’re going outside, you should at least take a cloak. It’s really cold outside.”
He studied the guard’s face intently. There was a time, when he hadn’t been as highly ranked, that he’d known the names of everypony he worked with. Now that he was responsible for an entire Order, that was no longer possible. He hated it; it lacked the personal touch.
“What is your name, Knight?” he said, and the guard recoiled at his tone.
“Liminal Space, sir.”
betray you some day
freeze him at the root
closed doors, locked doors, bolted doors
“I’ve changed my mind, Liminal,” he said. “I’m going to shower. Have a staff member bring breakfast up. Nothing heavy, fruit or something. And send a messenger to each of the Grand Masters. I need to speak to all of them.”
The days when he could simply go on a morning walk to clear his head were gone. He needed to accept that.
“Sir, even… Lady Fairy?”
Steadfast had to shove down a wave of rage that flowed over him. “No,” he said through grit teeth, and the Knights both recoiled. “Not her. The others.”
It was a struggle not to add some sort of insult or invective. Dear Saint Twilight, were they letting idiots into his order?
“I’ll be done in ten minutes. I’ll expect the other grand masters in forty. And I do plan on going out, Liminal. So that cloak would be welcome, for afterwards.”
It was a thoughtful gesture, even if the Knight was a bit of an idiot.
Steadfast went back into his room, where he would once again be alone with his ever-present company. The rational part of his mind said it was a good thing. He needed to project stability, strength, and leadership.
He needed to be steadfast.
But the other part of his mind, the one that always listened, hoping to glean whatever wisdom he could from the insanity that now flowed like a constant gale around him?
That part demanded that he take advice from nopony.
“The fool walks her path alone,” he intoned, quoting from the very first chapter of the Book. “So I shall surround myself with those who have the strength to do what is right.”
Saint Twilight’s words were little comfort in his empty, disorganized room, with his vacant, unmade bed and his chaotic desk.
Everything was chaos now.
A hot shower brought little comfort, so Steadfast didn’t linger. It had been a couple of days, though, so it was necessary. He took just long enough to straighten his mane and tail before digging through his drawers for clean robes.
His breakfast waited for him on his desk; sliced fruit and whole wheat toast, just like he’d asked.
Steadfast ate quickly, never quite tasting the oranges and apples and bread.
It was all cardboard.
When he once again exited his suite, the same two guards were there, though Liminal Space waited with a cloak draped over his hoof. He silently held it out to Steadfast.
“Thank you. I assume the other Grand Masters have gathered?”
“I sent the messages, sir. We’ve prepared Audience Room Zeta for your meeting.”
Steadfast paused.
“Your idea?”
Liminal nodded, and Steadfast gave a grim smile of approval. Perhaps there was hope for this young Mystic yet.
“Well done. Thank you.”
He swept the cloak, a slightly darker lavender than his robes, over his shoulders. The two Knights fell into step behind him as he marched down the hallway.
The mood at the Star Shine building was both quiet and rushed. Ponies moved about with a sort of frantic energy, silent with dread. There were hoofprints everywhere; everypony was tracking in snow, unused to this much snowfall outside.
He’d probably have to do something about that.
So many minor problems.
There was a silvery vein to all of it, however. As he passed, ponies looked at him. There was fear there, of course. But also there was hope and determination.
cannot trust any
expel them all into the snow
creeping, growing, consuming
He ignored the voices again. These were his ponies. Perhaps he couldn’t trust them entirely, but he could trust them enough. The Knights Mystic were the hope of Equestria, and they would follow in his lead. The devotion and faith he saw in their eyes was enough to reassure him of that.
The door outside Audience Room Zeta was already guarded when he approached, but not only by his own Knights. In addition, there were two Knights Adamant there. Each one was decorated with the mark of the Wonderbolts on their crinieres, the etched lightning bolt marking each one as an expert at both combat magic and close-range fighting. Surprisingly, both were earth ponies, even though most who made it to those elite ranks were pegasi.
“I’m going to assume from your presence that Grand Master North Wind is inside?”
“The General is waiting for you, sir,” said the Wonderbolt mare, a scarred but proud looking pony with a gray coat and a shockingly red mane.
“And he felt the need to bring guards into a safe place like this?” He tried to keep his voice even, but a bit of acid crept in. To her credit, the Wonderbolt didn’t flinch.
“He did, sir. We’re not sure any place is safe, right now.”
There was a wisdom in those words that Steadfast couldn’t deny. But their very presence was a challenge to his authority that he couldn’t let pass.
“And were you instructed to deny me entry?” Now he did let the menace creep into his voice. It was enough that the two Mystics behind him stiffened a little, crouching slightly in readiness. The other Wonderbolt, younger and less scarred, actually twitched a hoof, as if about to reach for a sheathed blade at his side.
paint the walls with their blood
inside out, upside down
so hungry
“We were not, sir,” the first Wonderbolt said, a touch of worry in her voice. “But with what happened at the last meeting of the Grand Masters, the General ordered us to be on guard for anything.” She saluted him. “We’re here to keep you safe too, sir. You lead the Knighthood, and we need you.”
It was the same kind of devotion he’d seen in some of his own Knights. The voices screamed at him not to trust her.
But this was what he was fighting for. This was what he had wanted all along. Cooperation between the Orders. No infighting, no division. Unity of purpose, unity of vision, unity of command.
“Thank you, Lady…”
“Blitzkrieg, sir. We’ll keep the room safe from intruders.”
“I’m glad to have Wonderbolts here,” Steadfast said. “Sir Liminal, join your fellow Knights in securing the audience room. Let nopony but the other Grand Masters in, assuming they haven’t arrived yet.”
“They haven’t, sir,” Blitzkrieg said. “Sir North Wind is the only one here so far.”
That bade poorly. Steadfast had hoped to be the last to arrive.
“Thank you. Keep the room private, please. Sir Liminal here can give you directions if we have any other needs which might need addressing.”
He may have been happy at the Adamant’s presence and their loyalty, but they needed to be under the command of Mystics. As the Knighthood was designed to be.
The Adamants nodded, and Steadfast stepped inside the Audience room.
As expected, North Wind was the only one in the room. He sat on the right-hoof side of the long conference table. The chair at the head of the table was framed by a large window looking out into the plaza below, now mostly empty and covered in a thick layer of snow. It would serve as a backdrop to any conversation, sitting behind Steadfast as a constant reminder of the dire situation that faced them all.
“Good morning, my friend,” Steadfast said softly, walking over to the head of the table and taking a seat. “I’m glad you’re here.”
At the very least, he had the Adamants. He wondered what was keeping the other two.
“Are you now?” the general replied, his eyes narrowed.
There was a hostility in North Wind’s voice that brought Steadfast up short and made the voices howl. He took a breath before he spoke.
“What do you mean by that?”
“You don’t seem to care about anything outside of these walls, Steadfast.” There was a stubborn set to North’s chin, an unwavering gaze that reminded Steadfast why he’d taken a liking to North Wind early on. “You’ve retreated. Or so I thought. And then I heard about your ponies' expedition up the mountain.”
“And it bothers you to hear I’ve made a successful strike against our enemies?”
“No!” North shouted. “What bothers me, Steadfast, is that when we met, after Fairy Light’s betrayal, you said we needed to have a unified approach. You told me, and Layer Cake, and Proud Stone, that we were going to approach this threat together. And then you hid in your headquarters and plotted a unilateral attack on the mountain, without even telling anypony else. You stood silent as I sent messenger after messenger, asking for an update on our response. You did nothing while Proud Stone took her knights and moved them into siege positions around Diamond Home.”
North was becoming more agitated as he spoke.
“You did nothing, besides launch this attack you told nopony about. Do you even know what’s happening in the world? I’ve lost four forts on the griffon border, three listening stations along the north, and eight outposts bordering the dragon lands are rubble and soot. A full fifteen colonies or settlements in Zebrica are no longer responding to radio hails, and an entire frontier town has been occupied by zebra Knights within Diarchy territory!”
He was shouting now, and Steadfast’s constant mental companions demanded his blood. Instead he watched, impassively.
“I’ve got my ponies patrolling the streets, plus every mercenary band and garrisoned unit I could conscript, trying to create some kind of order, as Proud’s Knights seem to have abdicated that duty altogether. She won’t listen to my messages either. And Layer just hides in his office, ‘communing with the Saints for further guidance’, although we both know he’s just cowering.”
“Tell me,” Steadfast hissed, breaking the tirade. “Tell me what you’re really concerned about.”
North stared at him.
Steadfast stared back.
The other pony’s expression seemed to thaw, melting from hostility to exhaustion.
“You don’t trust us,” North said simply. “And because of it, the unity you want is impossible.”
It was on Steadfast’s tongue to voice a denial. But there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he snapped, with more impatience than he thought he had been feeling.
The door cracked open, and Liminal poked his head in.
“A courier came, sir. A civilian conscript. Just brought a message from Lady Proud Stone. She won’t be coming.”
strip her of her flesh
starving, wanting, needing
so little time left
“And why,” Steadfast whispered, tamping down the explosion of temper, “is she not coming? And why does she send a civilian to do a Knight’s business? Open the door, let me see this messenger.”
Liminal nodded, pushing the door open to reveal the pony beyond. North Wind’s two guards stood at attention, eyeing the wretched thing with a mixture of wariness and pity.
The messenger was in poor shape. His clothing was barely recognizable as a once-nice suit. Now, it was tattered, soaked in snowmelt and spotted with blood. The earth pony’s eye was blackened, and dried blood flecked his chin and lips. He shivered, not just from cold, as he cowered on the carpet.
Steadfast thought of the letter he carried in the pocket of his robes.
“Can you stand?” he said more calmly. The pony looked up with terrified eyes.
“Y-y-yes, sir,” he tried, raising on trembling hooves, before nearly toppling over. One of North’s guards reached out a hoof to catch him.
“Liminal. Something warm to drink, please. Maybe some soup. Come in, pony, sit down. What is your name?”
Liminal rushed off to follow the orders while Blitzkrieg and the other Wonderbolt helped the poor thing into a chair.
“P-petty Cash, sir.”
“What happened to you?” North said, already casting a spell. Steadfast recognized medical diagnosis, though the earth pony shied away from North’s gauntlet. “Relax. Just trying to assess your injuries, and see if we need to fetch a Ra…” He cleared his throat. “…a healer.”
“I was… um, it was d-discipline. Because I didn’t f-follow orders fast enough.”
“Orders from…?” North coaxed, his expression darkening.
“Sir Iron Sights. Of the V-vigilant. He’s the Major in charge of the conscript l-legion.”
“Proud is conscripting civilians now?” North said, his voice disgusted, and Petty Cash nodded.
“Y-yeah. We’re h-helping the fight against the t-traitors in Diamond Home. Wh-when your summons arrived, I was pulled off the front lines to bring the message.”
“Here, sir.” The other Mystic guard hoofed over a piece of crumpled paper. It was hastily scrawled and torn, and Steadfast noticed from the folds that it was probably a repurposed bit of envelope.
Proud Stone didn’t even think he was worthy of a fresh piece of paper.
Steadfast-
Can’t come to your meeting, too busy with a righteous crusade. Keep me informed. Send help as soon as possible, Saint Applejack demands it.
Steadfast shook with fury, and the messenger saw, cringing back.
“He’s fine,” North said, having finished his examination. “A black eye, some bruises that will heal eventually. Nothing life-threatening. You’re saying your own commander did this to you?”
“At least I wasn’t…” he began, then gulped, his eyes wide, as he slammed his mouth shut.
“At least you weren’t what, pony?” Steadfast demanded, and the pony flinched again. “What is happening?”
“P-ponies who refuse to serve are sh-shot,” he whimpered.
“What?” North hissed.
Liminal returned with a tray, complete with a bowl of soup and a mug of something steaming. He set it down on the conference table.
“Eat. Rest,” Steadfast said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Stay here until you regain your strength. Liminal, get a full debrief of our guest once he feels up to it.” He looked the trembling pony in the eyes. “You are safe here.”
“Y-yes, sir,” he said, unbelieving. The mistrust evident in the expression fired up Steadfast’s rage all over again. He swept out of the room before he could do something he would regret.
“North, come with me.”
“Aren’t we going to wait for Layer?”
“He’s not coming.”
He wasn’t sure why he was so certain, but he was. Everything was falling apart. If Proud Stone could dismiss him with a three sentence note on the back of a piece of garbage, then there was little chance of the coward slinking from his cave.
“Steadfast. Steadfast! Wait!”
North Wind caught up with him in the hallway, reaching out with a hoof to pull Steadfast up short. He was angry.
“What are we going to do? We need a response to this. This is not okay.”
North had always been a bit of a gentle soul.
“I need intel, and this pony isn’t in shape to answer questions.”
“So you’re going to send somepony, right?” North said, his voice an accusation. Steadfast was silent. “Saints alive, you’re going to go yourself. Steadfast, what are you thinking?”
“I was going to go see for myself anyway,” he said. “I need…”
“Horseshit,” North interrupted. “Whatever reasoning you have, whatever excuse you were about to say, whatever lie you were about to feed me, it’s horseshit. You don’t trust me. You don’t trust anypony.”
The two ponies stared at each other silently. A few paces back, Sir North’s Wonderbolts waited, hesitating but ready to spring to their leader’s defense. Further back, in the conference room, Liminal watched with worry.
“Let me ask you this,” Steadfast whispered. “Did you believe her?”
North Wind blinked, confused. “Her? What are you talking about?”
“Just tell me this. Lady Fairy’s accusations. Did you believe her?”
North Wind was silent, staring at Steadfast with dark, unreadable eyes.
“That’s why I can’t trust you,” he whispered.
There was another reason, too. But one Steadfast couldn’t voice out loud.
not the only one
others hear us
others give in
He knew that. Joy was getting close these days. They’d promised to look out for each other, and she was holding on by a thread. She’d never had his strength, but she was making a valiant show of it.
He turned to leave again.
“Wait!” North called after him. “Steadfast, wait!”
Steadfast didn’t stop.
“Steadfast, that doesn’t matter right now,” North said, galloping up alongside him. “It’s not relevant. Not now. After all this has settled down, yeah, maybe we can have a talk about that.”
Steadfast could hear the mistrust in his voice. North Wind believed Fairy. He felt a cold stab of betrayal in his gut.
“But right now we need to prioritize, and we need unity. Let’s head to see Layer Cake. Together. Maybe we can…”
“No.”
North Wind paused, and Steadfast stared at him.
“No,” he said again. “We’re not bothering with that coward. I’m going to go talk to Proud Stone.”
“Saints, Steadfast, you don’t even know what’s happening! At least let me…”
“No.”
“Steadfast Word!” North finally shouted. “If you want my help, or my Knights’ help, in the next few days, you stop right now and listen to me!”
The rage flowed up his spine like ice water, but Steadfast stopped, turning his gaze on his fellow Grand Master.
kill
kill
kill
“Say your piece,” Steadfast hissed, barely restraining himself.
But something in his eyes nonetheless showed malice. The two Wonderbolts moved forward, flanking their leader.
Just a moment ago one of them, Blitzkrieg, had declared her loyalty to him. Now she and her companion faced him down, ready to die to defend their master.
And die they would, as soon as…
Steadfast shook his head sharply. North was starting to speak.
“I need to know what’s happening. I need a clear picture. And I don’t just mean out there. I mean in your head, Steadfast. This is the worst possible time for all of us to be falling apart. I’m begging you, Steadfast. What we need right now is leadership. Give me something, some plan, some path you’ve charted so I can make sense of all of this.”
There was something in North’s eyes, some near rabid desperation, that forced Steadfast’s hoof.
“Do you hear them?” he whispered.
The shock in North’s eyes was all the confirmation he needed.
“Do not listen, North Wind,” Steadfast said, stepping forward. The two Wonderbolts tensed, ready to strike. “Do not give them a moment of your time, or your thoughts. Steel your ponies, for those voices are a very real enemy.”
“What are you…” North recoiled, eyes wide. “What are you talking about?”
But he knew. Steadfast could see it in the fear in his eyes, and the way he shrank back.
“Don’t be a fool. You know. Tell your ponies. Do not listen. Do not make Proud Stone’s mistake.”
“Is that what’s happening?” North hissed. “By the Saints, Steadfast, what are you going to do?”
“I need to see her to be sure,” he said. There was a moment of turmoil in his thoughts, while the voices of the wind howled in his ears. They demanded mistrust. The letter in his pocket begged for something else. “But I need your help in the meantime. Somepony needs to do what Proud Stone should be doing.”
“Law and order,” North said, nodding slowly. “I can, Steadfast. But you know most of my Knights are assigned elsewhere. I don’t have the personnel to maintain calm throughout the city.”
“But you do have ponies with more expertise working in cold climates. And I shall give you authorization to press any Vigilants you find into your command.”
“That’s a dangerous precedent,” North Wind said. “Are we just usurping the Knights Vigilant now?”
“Yes,” Steadfast said without hesitating. “Proud has proved herself unfit to lead. In my role as the first among Grand Masters, appointed by Saint Twilight herself, I declare that the Vigilant will need to be under your leadership until such time as we can ascertain Proud Stone’s health, or find a replacement for her.”
“My command? Not yours?” North Wind narrowed his eyes.
“Because you don’t trust me,” Steadfast fired back. North recoiled again but nodded.
That simple wordless admission stung, but there was nothing for him to do about it now.
“You don’t trust me either. You still have not told me what your strike force was up to in the ruins.”
“I will,” he promised. He actually meant it. “When I can. When things are more settled. Priorities, as you said.”
“I won’t accept that,” North said. “But I’ll set it aside for now.”
“Take to the streets. Restore order and sanity. Keep an eye out for heretic movement.” He paused for a moment, in thought. “Get in touch with Layer Cake, too. If he insists on hiding in his headquarters, you have command of his Jubilant as well.”
“I don’t like that,” North said.
“Neither do I,” Steadfast lied. In truth, it was what he had always wanted. Unity of purpose, unity of command. Only not this way.
Still, if his vision were to come to pass, did it matter if he were the one at the head? Or could he cede that role to another?
He subconsciously reached up and touched the letter again.
No. No it did not matter who was at the head, as long as his Equestria became a reality.
For a second his mind wandered to Emberglow. Soon. It always should have been her. She should have been at his side. His…
Well, not his foal, for certain. But there was a degree of responsibility there, surely? A level of ownership, or familiarity?
she abandoned you
adorn a spear with her head
no quarter asked no quarter given
Absolutely not. He needed her alive. He needed the Elements.
It looked like he’d be returning to his first instinct then; his own eyes on the situation.
“You’re not still going to go by yourself, are you?” North’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.
Steadfast nodded. “I am. I am capable of keeping myself safe.”
“From the enemy without, perhaps. But what about this new enemy within? What defenses do you have from that? How do you do it, Steadfast?”
North meant the voices. He almost gave a boilerplate answer. Prayer, studying the Book, faith. But North deserved more from him. North had always been steadfast himself; a true scion of his chosen Saint. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled out the letter.
“Strength of will counts for something,” he said, as he slowly unfolded the paper. “But connection means more. Connections between ponies, even ones that may not always agree. Like your willingness to listen to me, even though you don’t trust me. Cooperation, loyalty. Do you remember I had squires?”
“You’ve had three, right? I only remember one of them, that… bouncy mare who went into the Radiant about ten years ago?”
“Right. Puddle Jumper. Here.”
North quickly read the letter, his expression going from wary to incredulous. While he read, Steadfast motioned Liminal over to his side.
“I’m going out after all. You may come with me, and bring as many as three other Mystics. I also need to speak to Wire Spool before we go. Get everything prepared, including winter gear for all of us, and then we go to see Proud Stone. Be ready for violence.”
The young Mystic nodded and darted away.
“Glad you’re taking someone with you,” North said. He gave the letter back to Steadfast. “Your old squire is naïve to think that a letter like this will change anything.”
“Is she?” Steadfast said, and North blinked at him in shock. “What I know is, when I hold the letter close, the howling voices of the cold wind grow softer and further away. What does that mean, North Wind?”
The Grand Master of the Adamant, the High General himself, stood openmouthed in stunned silence.
“I don’t know either.”
“You’re not thinking of making peace with the Radiant, are you?”
“I know for sure that we can’t afford to be fighting them right now,” Steadfast said. “And I know I need to figure out why this is happening. Proud’s little tantrum isn’t helping anypony. Now, if you’ll excuse me, you have duties, and I have some reports to catch up on.”
“Reports, huh?” North said suspiciously, but when Steadfast didn’t elaborate, he shrugged. “Very well. Go with the blessing of the Saints, Steadfast.”
* * * * *
The report from Wire Spool had been unsatisfying. The expedition to the mountain was on its way back, but he had no news about Joy. Apparently they’d suffered heavy casualties, and Joy was alive, but refusing to talk to any of her comrades.
Brightblade was not with them. Steadfast didn’t know what that meant.
Outside of the Star Shine building, the streets were covered in a thick layer of wet, heavy snow. Ponies were gathering in the plaza; a hundred or more civilians, dressed in ragged winter gear. Refugees from the chaos, seeking some kind of asylum.
It was right that they would seek the safety of the Saint’s chosen Knights. But law and order was North’s problem now. Steadfast and his entourage brushed past them, embarking into the snow.
But Steadfast’s hooves touched dry, bare pavement; two Mystics in faux fur lined armor went ahead of them, gauntlets glowing with spells that blew a constant whirlwind of dry, hot air around them.
Still, it was agonizingly slow going. If it were just him, he would be pushing through the blizzard on his own strength, but his so-called honor guard had insisted.
Steadfast accepted it with grace. The warm air did nothing to shut out the cold voices.
The letter did that.
The very idea of it filled his mind with wonder. Wonder and confusion. What was it about the words of a traitor that repulsed the murderous cold so?
Maybe he should be asking his old squire if she’d found any strange glowing gems recently.
Much to Steadfast’s surprise, the streets were not empty. There were civilians out and about. Most of them were ordinary families; middle-class ponies who didn’t have manors or guards to cower behind. They carried heavy packs on their backs, and moved in tightly-huddled groups. Every one of them froze in terror as they saw Steadfast and his procession.
“Evacuating? Be orderly, do not stop, do not loot, and go with the Saint’s protection,” he told each of them. The looks of naked gratitude that cut through the fear warmed his heart.
There were looters, too. He saw three stallions crawling out of a broken shop window, loaded down with sacks. They took one look at the approaching Knights and fled in different directions, screaming in terror.
easy prey
whet your appetite
feed and fill, tear and crush
Steadfast declined to pursue.
The closer they drew to Diamond Home, the louder they could hear the sounds of violence over the howling wind and snow. And it wasn’t just sounds; there was a visual record, as well. Here and there, splotches of pink snow and ice, or scorch marks upon signposts or brick walls, poking through the swirling snow.
And then he saw the first of the bodies.
They weren’t just left behind. Proud Stone was much too clean for that. No, these bodies were hanging from street lamps and telegraph poles.
The first group was a pair of stallions. Black bags hid their faces, and their hooves were tied. They wore civilian clothing, and a hastily written placard around their necks read ‘treason’.
One block over, there were three more. Two mares in white robes, and a third, barely a teenager, in squire gray. Blood stained all three, from dozens of wounds on each. Steadfast wondered if the ponies had even survived to be strung up in their nooses.
Liminal stiffened at the sight. “They’re killing foals now?” he hissed.
“From now on,” Steadfast growled, making Liminal and the others jump. “We cut them down. This is disgusting.”
The Saints knew he was no stranger to killing or executing. But the public display sickened him. They were civilized ponies. There was no need for such macabre theater.
It didn’t take long for Liminal to produce a knife and cut through the ropes that held the three nooses up. The bodies slumped, hitting the snow with a thud.
“Would you… do you…” the young Mystic motioned to the hoods. Steadfast shook his head. “Yes sir.”
As they continued on their way, they cut down a dozen more bodies. By the time the first Vigilant tried to stop them, Steadfast was seething with rage.
“Hey! Hey you! What are you doing?! Don’t you cut those down, they’re to be left by order of…”
The orange-armored mare finally seemed to notice what color armor they were wearing as she rushed over through the snow. With a gasp of terror, she came to a halt, and the spear she’d been brandishing clattered to the snow.
“S-s-s-s-sir S-steadfast!” she managed, managing a salute. Steadfast walked up to her until they were nearly nose-to-nose, his hoof stepping firmly on her fallen spear.
“Do you object to my orders, Knight?”
His voice barely rose above the wind, but she flinched back as if he’d howled.
“N-n-no, s-sir.”
“Even though they may differ from the orders you received from Lady Proud Stone?”
“Y-yes, sir!”
“What are your orders from her?”
“P-patrolling the streets. Making sure civilians don’t m-mess with the b-bodies. Making sure they don’t l-loot.”
“You have new orders, lieutenant,” he said, looking at the bars of rank on her shoulder. “Find the nearest Adamant. Surrender yourself to his or her command. Follow with exactness.”
“B-but…”
“I will deal with your Grand Master,” Steadfast said, and the mare flinched back again. “Now, go!”
His final command came as a hissed shout, and was enough to make her trip over herself backwards as she ran away from him. Still, when her panicked flight took her about half a block away, the Knight Vigilant stopped, turning back towards him.
faithless
make her feel, make her remember
red, melting snow
He nearly listened to them. How dare she…
“Sir? Th-thank you. G-good luck.”
And then she turned to run again.
“So they’re not all mad like Lady Stone is,” Liminal speculated. Steadfast glared at him, and he recoiled a little, but stood his ground. “Sorry, sir.”
“Stay focused. Something is happening to the Vigilants, and even that mare knew it.”
“Not just the Vigilants,” Liminal said darkly, but didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to.
Sounds of shouting and gunfire up ahead spurred them on. Still, there were two more sets of bodies to cut down. Their small group saw Vigilants more and more frequently on the streets, though none dared stop them from their task. A low, base part of Steadfast reveled in the way they turned aside at his cold glances.
Each group of Vigilants got the same orders. Leave, find the nearest Adamant, and fall into their command. Most of the Vigilants looked relieved at the orders.
Finally, Steadfast and his companions were merely a block away from the square in front of Diamond Home. If Proud Stone had set up a permanent command post, it would be in Carousel Square.
But as they approached, he noticed something odd about the gunfire he could hear. It wasn’t the regimented report of soldiers firing on a besieged hospital, nor was it the chaotic volley of a skirmish. It was methodical, repetitious, a single shot every few seconds.
An execution.
Steadfast hurried his hoofsteps, even as he heard the sound of singing rising above the blizzard. It was a voice he recognized, and it intermixed with a louder voice, the spell-enhanced announcements of Lady Proud Stone. The words of the song were an ancient poem, and Steadfast knew where she’d learned it; he was the one who had taught her the words, years ago.
“When I was a little filly,
And the sun was going down…”
“Lady Rolling Thunder of the Radiant, you are condemned to death for Treason. May the Saints have mercy on you.”
A gunshot, then a thud.
“…the darkness and the shadows
They would always make me frown…”
“Squire Chorus Belt, you are condemned to death for Treason. May the Saints have mercy on you.”
Another gunshot, then a thud. Steadfast broke into a gallop, and the Mystics with him cried out in surprise.
“…I’d hide under my pillow
From what I thought I saw
But Grannie Pie said that wasn’t the way
To deal with fears at all…”
“Lady Puddle Jumper of the Radiant, you are condemned to death for Treason. May the Saints have mercy on you.”
Steadfast ran harder.
He rounded the corner into Carousel Square, searching desperately for a familiar sight. The letter burned like an ember in the pocket of his robes. Finally his eyes found Proud Stone.
There was a crowd of ragged looking Vigilants, standing guard over a half dozen prisoners kneeling blindfolded in the snow. There were even some civilians, looking terrified and exhausted. Several of the prisoners were already slumped forward, still and bleeding from gunshot wounds to the backs of their heads. Proud stood over them all, holding a pistol.
The blindfolded figure at her knees still had her mouth open in song. Steadfast could see, even in these circumstances, the smile on her face through the tears running down her cheeks.
“…she said ‘Pinkie, you gotta stand up tall
Learn to face your fears…”
“Wait!” he screamed, desperation pulling the sound from deep within him.
He was too far away.
The trigger squeezed. There was a flash, and another body slumped, blood staining the snow.
Something inside of Steadfast broke. He marched towards Proud, who had ignored his command and was already moving towards the next prisoner in line.
“Sir Dipoly Diffraction of the Vigilant, you are condemned to death for cowardice and Treason. May the…”
Steadfast cast a spell as the snow flurried about him. His heart was steel.
“LADY PROUD STONE.”
It wasn’t just voice amplification; it was more than that, a specialized sort of offensive spell that made one’s voice a physical force. The Vigilant who had stepped up to guard their mistress was blown backwards, and the prisoner she’d been standing behind fell over into the snow with a whimper of pain. Proud herself kept her hooves, merely blinking in shock.
“Sir Steadfast. I did not expect you.”
There was something off about her voice, but Steadfast ignored her. Instead, he had eyes for the last prisoner only.
Puddle Jumper, his former squire, was dead. The execution had been clean. He pulled the blindfold off her eyes to be sure. Cold, glassy eyes stared back at him, frozen in one last attempt to laugh off the fears he had so often tried to counsel her through.
“Somepony you knew? Or are you just making sure I did my duty?”
Steadfast looked up at Proud Stone, meeting her gaze. What he saw there killed the last of his hope.
They were not pools of light, but gray maelstroms of murk; shallow, washed out puddles of lost sanity. They didn’t focus on his gaze for long, sliding in and out of focus as they darted about.
Her mane was mussed as well, matted with mud, blood, and sweat. It was clear she was coming apart at the seams.
He’d have to put her down.
“Proud, what are you thinking? A siege? This is not what I requested.”
He had no hope of getting through to her. For what she’d done to Jumpy, she had to die. He didn’t even stop to think of the incongruence; just a few hours ago he’d been wishing death for all of the Radiants. But now…
Curse her for giving him hope.
“I am following the will of Saint Applejack, Steadfast. I am doing what her voice tells me to.”
It was almost comical how devoid of sense her voice was. He could even see it in the eyes of some of her followers. There were those whose expressions bled with madness, like hers. But even more of them were looking about with fear and hopelessness.
“And Her voice, does it come on a cold wind? Are you the only one who hears?”
He was speaking mostly for himself. His own voices howled.
“The true faithful hear Her,” Proud said reverently, her thin voice glazed with the madness of the zealot. “It will come to all of Her children in time, if they do not lose themselves to cowardice like this one did.”
She kicked the Knight kneeling at her hooves. He groaned in pain.
“Sir… Dipoly, you said? What was his crime?”
“He spoke against the word of Saint Applejack. He demanded mercy for these Radiant traitors. Pushing a little further, he told me he used to be friends with that one.”
She lashed out with another kick, this time at Jumpy’s corpse.
Her death would be painful.
“What kind of mercy?”
“Negotiation. Prisoner exchange. Some other foolish things. But you and I both know, Steadfast, that corruption cannot be allowed to fester. This… this wickedness. This madness. It has to be rooted out. You know it, right? Do you hear Saint Twilight’s voice, too?”
There was something off when she spoke. He started when he realized. It was her breath. It wasn’t fogging in the air, like other ponies’ breath was.
“Perhaps,” he said, moving behind the prisoner to stand next to her. “Do you mind?”
He held out a hoof for the pistol.
“It is… sanctifying, in a way, to take the fight against corruption into one’s own hooves, isn’t it?” the older mare said, passing the pistol over with a smile. Steadfast was aware of the eyes on him. Nearly a hundred Knights Vigilant, and only a few of his own. Perhaps he could trust the ones with fear in their eyes. Perhaps not. He’d have to see.
“It is,” he said, and turned and shot her through the chest.
For a moment Proud Stone stared at him, then down at the chest of her robes, the orange slowly blossoming into red. Then she fell to her knees.
“B-but…” she stammered, blood gurgling into her mouth. She coughed, flecks landing on his own robes. He ignored them, a surge of pleasure filling him at a well-placed shot. She’d drown from the blood filling her lungs, then.
“Because you are weak. Because you are an idiot. Because you took something that was mine and you destroyed it.”
He wasn’t making much sense, and even to his own ears his voice sounded alien. Cold. Frosty air seemed to swirl in the air as he hissed at her.
“Because you ruined my plans, and you killed my friend. Because there is no Harmony in you, and so you are a part of the problem. You are the enemy here.”
Proud collapsed into the snow, gasping for breath, her hooves clutching at her chest. She choked again, more red in the snow. Steadfast reached out with a hoof, shoving her the rest of the way to the ground. He smashed her face into the snow.
“Because you gave in. You stopped fighting the corruption yourself and let it in. That’s not the voice of Saint Applejack you hear, it’s the voice of your own damnation. Damn you, Proud Stone.”
As the mare gurgled into the ground, Steadfast moved his hoof to her neck. It was taking too long. He moved forward, pressing hard until he heard a snap.
The voices crooned with glee.
It was then that he looked up long enough to see what was happening.
His guard had taken up a position around him, spears raised. It was three against a hundred, and many of the Vigilants looked forward with murder in their eyes. Still, there were enough that didn’t.
Steadfast ignored them all.
“Lady Proud Stone is dead at my authority. She gave in to madness.”
Steadfast wondered where the voices were. He could hear their howling as he looked into the eyes of the mad Vigilants.
“Until a replacement can be chosen, the Knights Vigilant serve under the command of Sir North Wind of the Adamant. Every single one of you is to disperse, and find the nearest blue robed or armored pony. Obey their orders until you hear otherwise.”
Nopony moved.
“Anypony who cannot obey, who cannot do their duty, will end up like Proud Stone. Do you want to die restoring order to our city? Or do you want to bleed out in a gutter with cowards and traitors?”
At the edges, Vigilants began to slink away. Steadfast nodded.
Order out of chaos.
Law out of corruption.
This was… this was what all this was for, right?
No matter who he had to kill to get there?
He gave one last look at the white-robed body of his former squire. When he looked up, several Vigilants had yet to depart.
“Sir, somepony still needs to deal with these prisoners,” one of them, a mare, said. Her voice wasn’t tainted like Proud’s had been.
“Untie him,” he said, pointing at the Knight he’d just saved from execution. The mare looked at him first with shock, then relief. She did as he ordered.
Sir Dipoly was a middle-aged earth pony with orangish brown fur. It was matted from the blindfold, and from fear sweat. His eyes blinked rapidly, exposed suddenly to the light. As soon as he could he looked around, his eyes fell on the bodies and he flinched.
“Why…?” was all he could manage with a raspy voice.
“You,” Steadfast said. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded like ice. Dipoly flinched away from him. “You stood up to Lady Proud, despite the consequences. Why?”
“They…” he motioned with a hoof. “They were just trying to get foals to safety. That’s all. They weren’t a threat to anypony.”
“Foals?”
Dipoly motioned to the rest of the line of prisoners. Steadfast looked for the first time. There were two more Radiants, and another Vigilant. But the rest were dressed as pages from the Seminary.
“Relatives of the Angelic and the Radiant. Who were in Seminary,” Dipoly explained. “She was going to… just kill them all. I tried to stop her.”
“That was useless,” Steadfast said coldly.
Dipoly shrugged. “I’m not a fighter, really. I…I’m a bureaucrat. A forensic accountant.”
“You did what you could,” said one of the standing Vigilants. It was the mare from earlier, the one who’d asked about the prisoners. “You did more than I could. Than most of us could.”
“Pointless,” Steadfast said, feeling another surge of rage. “All of you are failures. You couldn’t even rein her in. Helpless.” He looked down at Dipoly. “At least you tried. That’s worth something. I’m putting you in command here, until I can send an Adamant.”
“Me, sir? I told you, I’m an accountant! I’ve spent most of the last few years on medical leave, I…”
“Yes, you. Dipoly Diffraction, it is your duty to keep these prisoners safe, and keep Diamond Home contained until somepony from the Adamant arrives to take over command. Understood?”
Steadfast leaned forward, and Dipoly shied away. “Fail me and your corpse freezes next to Stone’s.”
“Wh-why me?”
“Because you tried. That’s better than most of this lot.”
He glanced up at his honor guard. “Liminal. Stay with Dipoly. You’re at his command for now. If any of these fools can’t follow orders, execute them. Make it hurt.”
“Yes sir,” Liminal said. He walked over to Dipoly, offering a hoof up. “I’m at your command, sir,” he said to the shaking Vigilant. Dipoly nodded slowly.
But Steadfast didn’t care. All of them could freeze to death, for all he cared. He was…
He was…
There was something. Something he was supposed to be doing. Something that was supposed to come of all this, something that mattered.
But the voices howled, and sometimes it was hard to remember.
Order out of chaos.
Law out of corruption.
blood out of the veins
breath frozen in the lungs
flesh for the tearing
He turned away from Dipoly and Liminal, who were already starting to organize the assembled Vigilants. At the edge of the square stood a single Mystic. She saluted as Steadfast approached.
“Report.”
Steadfast’s voice felt raw, like he’d been talking and yelling constantly. He hadn’t, really, but the cold of his own breath scraped at his throat.
He realized that when his guard, the Vigilants, or the newcomer Mystic breathed, their breaths fogged in the air. His didn’t.
“Sir. Joyful Noise has returned. She says she needs you back right away. She said to tell you that you need to keep your promise.”
The mare shook her head in confusion.
“She told me you’d know what she meant.”
“I do,” Steadfast said.
Yet who would keep the promise for him?
“Lead the way,” he said simply.
But before he could leave Carousel Square, he let a single piece of paper drop into the slush and snow at his hooves, the ink blurring in the muddy wet.
* * * * *
North Wind had long since left the Star Shine building when Steadfast returned, though his presence was felt. Throughout he could see blue robes and blue armor, coordinating and communicating. Efficiency was a hallmark of North’s military outlook and organization, and normally it would have made Steadfast proud to see it.
Now he felt nothing.
The inside wasn’t as warm as it should have been, and he could see ponies shivering with cold, ponies casting heating enchantments, and ponies carrying around mugs of steaming liquid. Everywhere there was evidence that the cold was still creeping, even indoors.
Most of them were civilians, huddling together in small groups, eyeing those around them with hostility and suspicion.
The snow being tracked from outside filled the building’s entrance hall with slush and ice. Steadfast felt a prick of anger. Even basic cleanliness seemed to be falling by the wayside; that or nopony besides Knights wanted to come in to do work today. Part of him couldn’t blame them.
“You are dismissed,” he told his honor guard as soon as they’d stepped inside. “Seek out Lady Time Stamp, she’ll find new orders for you.”
Of course they wanted to protest. He could see it in their eyes. But they didn’t voice it. The courier joined them in running off, complete with a look of fear sent his way.
He didn’t care. It’s not like he needed an entourage.
He made his way to where he knew Joy would be waiting. Not at his office. Not at her own quarters, nor her duty station in the basement archives next to the vault of the Machine.
Being next to the machine would be agony, right now. Or perhaps… perhaps it would be restful.
Still, he moved right to where he knew she would be.
There was a sun-room on the fifth floor, a little greenhouse built into the side of a balcony. Some of the Mystic artificers used it for plant based experimentation. When she needed to calm down and gather herself, when the voices got to be too much, Joy liked to go there.
“Botany is my true love,” she had confessed to him once. “Before I realized the Saints had more in store for me than simply growing living things.”
In a perfect world, in a peaceful world, he could have left her alone with her plants. But he’d needed her mind, her loyalty, and her willingness to do what it took to accomplish his goals.
And now it would cost her her life.
The greenhouse was beautiful; a little slice of paradise in the otherwise austere building. Steadfast hadn’t been here often; but when he did come, he’d appreciated the breath of fresh air.
Now, though, a cold wind slid through the entire room. He could see frost growing on several of the plants already. The window up above, that once provided warmth and protection, was shattered. The culprit was a spear thrust through and then stuck, its blade wedged into the iron framework that held up the window.
Every plant in the greenhouse would be dead within minutes.
“That was how I knew.”
Joy’s voice was a whisper, harsh and raspy. Steadfast found her curled up in the remains of a dozen shattered pots. Her robes and flesh were pierced in multiple places, shards of terra cotta having sliced her open when she presumably broke the pots.
“I knew I’d gone too far. I’d given too much. Because the real me… the real me loved this place. Loved these plants. And now I’ve killed them.”
“Report,” Steadfast said. He watched idly as hoarfrost started to grow from her bloodstained robes and matted fur. She didn’t seem to notice the cold.
“The abomination is dead. Brightblade is dead.”
“Emberglow?”
“Remains at large.”
“And…”
“She’s here. Guarded and unconscious. In your office.”
Steadfast waited to feel the surge of pleasure at the victory. There was nothing.
“Where you sow, another will reap,” Joy said, as if it were a prophecy. “I… I always knew it would be so with me. But it will be with you, too? Only… who’s going to keep my promise to you, Steadfast?”
“Nopony. That’s my burden.”
He stepped up to her. Joy didn’t lift her head. Slowly he stroked her mane with one hoof.
“You did well,” he whispered. He waited to feel anything. Sorrow. Triumph. Regret.
Nothing.
“Please. Please be quick,” she said. “And then go see your prize. And, Saints protect us Steadfast, you have to win. You have to win so that all of this death, this madness and chaos, this bloodshed…”
She shuddered.
“…so that it all makes sense. And has a purpose. Please.”
In his mind, Steadfast had already forgotten her. Like a letter dropped into the snow.
“We will,” he promised, as he reached out and snapped her neck.