As Celestia’s evening star slowly travels toward the northern mountains, General Atlas looks down upon the young duo with interest and gratefulness as they express their positions as adoring fans.
Of course, he was also thankful for their healthy nature. Entrusting them both to Miss. Chestnut’s care was extremely well rewarded, and she was among the rare few sworn to secrecy.
Yes, they were both umbrum. But like Princess Amore, General Atlas shared a similar perspective on the matter: no one gets to choose what they’re born as. Why should one’s race determine their general nature?
Being umbrum is only what they are; it’s not who they are.
Sadly, General Atlas knew only a select few shared his and Princess Amore’s philosophies. This was especially true in Equestria, and should the secret of the dark colt duos’ origins ever get out in the empire…
Well, he didn’t want to think of the inevitable fallout.
“The pleasure is all mine, youngsters.”
Sombra and Sombasi celebrated by clapping their forehooves together, rearing up to do so before landing on all fours, having been acknowledged by their idol.
“Oh!” Sombra began. “Hey, Prince Olstrom?” he inquired, garnering the saddle arabian’s attention.
“Yes, Sombra?”
“Could Sombra inquire as to what that strange magic of yours was? Sombra has never seen such prowess before.”
“Yeah!” Sombasi gleed. “Your leg was like, ‘woom,’ and the ground was like, ‘kploomf’ - magic mud wall!”
The saddle arabian, rather than start with words, lifts a forelimb while scooping up a hoof-sized portion of the earth and presents it to the duo. All while Hoo’Far, standing on the adjacent side of Sombra and Sombasi, perks up his ears at attention. Despite his feelings towards the prince, he was also quite interested in Olstrom’s display.
“Tell me, musadas, are you familiar with how the equine species of our world can grasp onto objects?”
“Sombasi knows that one—sticky hooves.”
Olstrom nods. “Yes. That’s the terminology often used in the Empire and Equestria, although we of Saddle Arabia refer to it as primal grasp. But are you familiar with how the process works?”
Sombasi is about to respond eagerly with a raised forelimb…but falters, drawing a blank as his hoof slowly lowers. “Er- uuuuh…”
Sombra rolls his eyes with a slightly embarrassed sigh. “It’s a localized telekinetic field that allows us to grip and manipulate objects of varying sizes. It may seem magical, but it’s a physical trait. Thus, our physical might determines the limits of what we can lift.”
“Yeah!” Sombasi rests himself on his haunches and crosses his forelimbs with a proud expression—as if he were the one to answer. “That! That’s what it is.” he nods and grins, earning a glare from his brother.
Suddenly, the brothers felt a gush of wind that slowly grew in intensity, causing them to gaze toward Olstrom as the manes of all in attendance began to flutter. A strange transparent aura surrounds the saddle arabian’s form, almost like a barrier comprised of gravity.
Blades of grass and small rocks within Olstrom’s vicinity began to be pulled straight out of the ground and lifted into the air, followed by pieces of earth.
“Amore’s bum be praised,” General Atlas comments in amusement, his brown mane dancing from the ever-present wind currents. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this.”
“How is he doing that?” Sombasi questioned with wide eyes. Sombra and Hoo’Far matched his expression, although the half-arabian’s inner shame at dismissing his father’s roots grew.
“I won’t go any further in fear of causing any unnecessary damage,” Olstrom answered, “but we saddle arabians take ‘sticky hooves’ to a whole other level. Every equine in existence, ponies, saddle arabians, mistmanes, changelings, kirin, and more—each of us has ties to our shared ancestor; the horse.”
The lifted earthly materials floating all around Olstrom began to dance in a swirling pattern.
“In present times, saddle arabians are the closest anycreature can get to, as we refer to horses in Saddle Arabia, an ancient.”
“Or, as ponies like to call ‘em down in Equestria,” General Atlas adds. “Titans. There are many legends and stories about it, so be sure to talk to Miss. Chestnut if you want to know more.”
“So…” Sombra began after a moment of silence, allowing the colts to process the newly revealed information. “Is it safe to say that horses were masters of sticky hooves?”
“Kid, they invented sticky hooves,” General Atlas spoke matter-of-factly. “Were it not for them, we’d never be able to build grand structures like those minotaurs and their opposable thumbs, or the talons of a griffon.”
The dark-grey duo turned to each other. “Woah,” they spoke in unison.
Satisfied, Olstrom dissipated the phenomenon radiating off his body as the earthly materials he manipulated fell to the ground, and all manes rested undisturbed against their owners.
“Right then. I hope that satisfies your interest, musadas.”
“Sombra has several more questions.” the elder sibling ponders for a moment and resigns to shake his head with a smile. “But Sombra thinks he and Sombasi understand the basics. Thank you.”
Sombasi nods rapidly in agreement.
General Atlas chuckles. “Well, now that that’s out of the way.” with a stern expression, the general treks over to Hoo’Far, who shifts to attention on Atlas’s approach.
The high-ranking stallion stands before the recruit, staring at them quietly and seemingly sifting through his thoughts. “Hoo’Far…” his voice was drenched with disappointment. “Do you have any idea how severe the consequences of your actions could’ve been?”
Hoo’Far’s throat had begun to dry up like the very deserts of Saddle Arabia. “Sir, I…” he swallows, “Y-yes. I do.”
“Apparently, you don’t. Now I might sound like a broken record here, but I’ll ask again: what in the pits of Tartarus were you thinkin’, boy? You assaulted royalty from another nation! And an allied one, at that!”
The presence of the nearby brotherly duo was not dismissed as General Atlas’s eyes traveled over to the pair and back to Hoo’Far. “And to make matters worse, should this escalate to a case in court or, Amore forbid, an international crisis, you’ve shamelessly involved these two little gems as witnesses. Are you proud of that, hmm? Can you imagine those little faces up on those stands testifyin’ in adult affairs when they should be out playin’ and liv’n their lives?”
“N-no, sir.”
Hoo’Far slowly turned his head to the brothers, eyes filled with regret. Truly, he hadn’t meant to draw them into this. But the general was right…
“I never wanted to involve them.” Amore damnit. Why couldn’t he have just kept it together?! “I’m sorry. To both of you.”
“I-it’s ok, sir,” Sombasi said.
A groan is let loose from General Atlas, prompting Hoo’Far to adjust his sights. He stops on Olstrom’s form along the way, who simply stands there neutrally. And at that moment, the unicorn-arabian was conflicted.
Hoo’Far didn’t regret his actions against the prince, and yet, he did, but not entirely for Olstrom’s benefit. Nevertheless, challenging Olstrom wasn’t the issue here. Had the royal saddle arabian accepted the challenge, things might’ve progressed differently.
No. It was the fact that despite Olstrom being against Hoo’Far’s goad from the start, even offering to exchange words rather than blades, even if they were wooden in makeup, Hoo’Far’s fury caused him to lash out with little to no provocation. He attacked Olstrom. It was blatant assault.
“And it’s not just you,” General Atlas says, rubbing his temple as Hoo’Far finally tears his gaze away from Olstrom and, at last, focuses on the general. “I caught wind of your fellow guards going so far as to encourage the conflict. Sure, they hammered into you when you ‘lost’ yet still chose to retaliate while Olstrom's back was turned, but none of this should’ve happened. It all should’ve been over the very moment Olstrom declined.”
The general greedily intakes fresh air and lets loose a drawn-out sigh. “Prince Olstrom Shattershield,” he beckoned as he turned, “On behalf of the Crystal Guard, I take full responsibility for everything that’s transpired.”
“General Atlas!” Hoo’Far exclaimed, ears shooting upward. “The fault is mine, and mine alone, sir.”
“Be that as it may,” the general responds while looking over his shoulder. “When somepony in my legion of brave stallions and mares acts up, it falls back on me. So keep that in mind should you ever decide to pull something like this again. And speaking of which,” he cranes his head forward, “I'm just gonna cut to the chase; he’s all yours, prince.”
Olstrom tilts his head. “Pardon?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. You’ve literally got the authority, not to mention you’re the one who’s been wronged here. And so, I leave Hoo’Far’s fate up to you.”
As Sombra and Sombasi looked on with growing anticipation, and as Hoo’Far’s eyes fell downward with a gritted ‘Tch,’ Olstrom took a moment to himself, closing his eyes and humming deep in thought.
Hoo’Far had caused him nothing but trouble for seemingly no reason at all. However, from what was implied by the half-arabian before, during, and after their clash, there were indeed layers to this predicament. But there was also that strange sense of Deja Vu lingering at the back of his mind.
Hoo’Far Wanderer. Olstrom had heard of that name before…
Nevertheless, the prince did away with those thoughts for the time being and focused on the here and now. His subsequent decision would outright determine Hoo’Far’s future amongst the Crystal Guard.
And thus, after several minutes of agonizing silence passed by, particularly for Hoo’Far, Olstrom opens his hazel-colored orbs with a chuckle. A plan had been concocted, and his decision was made.
“I know just what to do with him.”