//------------------------------// // Journey's End // Story: The Coupledye Chronicles // by Dsarker //------------------------------// When Colonel Fauchard arrived back at Coupledye, the decorated unicorn stallion arrived in much the way he went: with others, on a caravan of his property, and with pride on his face. There were differences - of course, how could there not be? - and while they were few, those who knew him muttered in shadows about those differences. The first, of course, was the return of a wedding ring to his horn. The unicorn stallion's wife had died quite some time ago, at the same time as his daughter's death and his son's imprisonment (these events were well-known to be linked, and there were some that saw him as cursed). The second was his son and his family. Having left young, callow, and single, he returned mature, bloodied, and married with children. But the third, which to some was the most disturbing, was the new addition. The one who was not a pony. The zony (for such was apparent - her stripes gave her away) pegasus with him. She had a cutie mark - two crossed tusks - and at her side was strapped a scabbarded sword, but how, or why, had this zony been linked with the colonel, veteran as he was of the Zebra Wars? To be sure, the zebras had long been at peace with the ponies. Crossbreeds - while not common - were not unheard of. But usually they were commoners, or merchants - never before had one been seen a soldier. "Nought good can come of this," said the young heir apparent of Count Dischabel, a unicorn stallion. "A halfbreed? Here? and in the company of the colonel?" He shook his head. "The nobles will be in an uproar by tomorrow, and rightly so." "Hmm..." replied his friend, another unicorn stallion by the name of Perihelion. "I'm not so sure," he said, as he looked at the caravan entering the city, and the zony filly with it. "I'm not so sure..." ---- The main gates of Coupledye were impressive things, fifty foot tall steel doors almost thirty inches thick. They were guarded similarly impressively, with twenty armoured ponies surveying the new arrivals from above the gates, and ten inspecting each pony that went through. The caravan, composed of several wagons and a carriage, was accompanied by six people: Fauchard, a unicorn stallion and a retired colonel of the Meandering Gloss Infantry, past his first century and with a light brown coat and graying brown hair and a cutie mark of an axe; Glaive, a unicorn stallion, his only son, and here to join the Royal Guard at King Thebilstetar's request, with a light brown coat, dark brown hair, and a cutie mark depicting two axes crossed behind a shield; Falcata, a pegasus mare, Glaive's wife and a noble warrior in her own right, with a white coat, a bright red mane, and a cutie mark of a sword; Falchion and Balisong, two young alicorn foals, Falchion a colt and Balisong a filly, twins, in age six winters, the filly a beige coloured coat, a striped mane of blue, dark indigo, and fuchsia, with a cutie mark depicting a G-clef, and the colt an orange coat and a vibrant yellow mane. As well as the ponies, to the group was also added Friesden, ward and adopted daughter of Fauchard, to whom she was also apprenticed in the way of the warrior, ten years old (and so in her majority) and amber with black stripes, with a cutie mark depicting two crossed tusks. One of them recognised the colonel, and saluted to the retired officer. "Good evening, sir. This your family?" he asked, nodding to the caravan. "Most of them," replied Fauchard. "My wife and grandfoal are inside resting." He indicated the carriage. "Very good, sir," said the guard, and he moved to the other ponies. "Good evening, sir, madam," he said to Glaive and Falcata, "good evening young miss and young master," to Falchion and Balisong, and he nodded to Friesden. Fauchard bristled a bit at the guard's rudeness, but concealed it well. "Come along Friesden," he said to her. "Yes, dad," she answered, just as he'd hoped. The guard looked suitably shamefaced, as Fauchard had planned, as they went through the gates into the city. As they passed, the guard whispered to his friends. "Did you hear that? The old colonel's married a zebra!" ---- Friesden walked slowly through the city, by Falchion's side. Her wing was lowered over Falchion's side, and the colt, not quite so young as he once was, was beaming with pride as he walked through the street with Friesden. Behind them, the caravan kept making its way through the wide avenue that marked the entrance to the city. On either side, small stalls filled the street, with vendors hawking goods and services. Young foals chased each other through the stalls, watched by adults (presumably their parents) in their antics. Friesden looked wistfully at them, remembering with some fondness her own foalhood, in Dawnpick. Though it hadn't been all sunshine and laughter, she had been just as innocent as these foals here. And though her father had abandoned her, her mother turned away... well, despite that, she was still standing tall. Fauchard had been there when she needed him, and now she had a family... She looked at Falchion lovingly, couched as he was under her wing. And a coltfriend too. Life was good. Only a year or two till he'd be of marriageable age. It had been three years ago when Falchion had confessed his feelings to her, and started the romance (such as it was). They had both been foals, then, and young. But despite the prediction that they would break apart, they had seemed to grow only stronger together. While she was thinking, and pondering her past, she noticed up ahead a well-armoured unicorn pony, in much more well-crafted armour than that of the gate guards, accompanied by twenty guards in a different livery. They were marching towards the caravan, and Friesden did not like the look of them. "Falchion," she said to the colt, "get back with Kit. Get Balisong in with you." She didn't wait to answer his protestation, but moved over to her father, Fauchard, and her brother Glaive and sister-in-law Falcata. Like her, they had spotted the guards and were cautious. Fauchard moved up to talk to the presumed commander, prepared for a fight. "Good day. Who are you here for?" he asked, in a calm voice, though not without a certain hardness to it. "Are you Colonel Fauchard?" asked the pony in charge. "Aye, but not colonel. Not anymore. I'm retired, son." "Why are you here? To what purpose?" "I'm here to visit my ailing father." "Then, my good pony, you will submit to a search of your wagons," said the commander, and pointed to some of his guards to do so. "No," said Fauchard softly, and when the commander turned back to laugh at him, he found the colonel's son holding his axe too close to his neck for comfort. "You will let us pass unmolested if you know what's good for you, son." The commander jerked back. "A- are you threatening me?" "No," said Fauchard, still speaking softly. "Merely helping you to guess what your best course of action is." A moment passed, and after it, the commander relented. "Let them pass." "I am glad that you agree with me. You might go far with that, son," said Fauchard as Glaive sheathed his axe. "This isn't the last you'll hear about this. House Dischabel will not be dishonoured by one such as you," hissed the commander as he and his stallions left. "Well," said Fauchard to his family. "Home sweet home." ---- Though Fauchard and Glaive remained on guard, they passed through the rest of the city unmolested. Friesden and Falchion walked together again, until (having passed through to the High District) another pony, a young unicorn stallion, approached. Unlike the previous ponies, this one was not armoured, instead being dressed in well-tailored but not extravagant clothing, nor did he approach the group. Instead, he approached Friesden herself. As Friesden slowed down cautiously, and readied for a fight, he bowed to her. "My lady, I am named Perihelion. I apologise for my friend's behaviour beforehand," said the carmine-coloured unicorn. "Why are you bowing?" asked the zony, her suspicions lessening as the pony spoke. "And do you mean that pony with the guards?" "Yes, indeed I do. I apologise in his place. He is brash, and arrogant." He stood up, and smiled at the pretty mare. "Especially... especially to trouble one like you," he whispered under his breath. "What was that?" she asked, suspicions rising again. This pony was acting strangely. "Oh, it's nothing. Forget it. Now, I fear I must leave. Goodbye, until we meet again, my lady." The stallion bowed once more, before turning and melting into the crowd. Friesden stared after him for a second, before shaking her head, and saying to Falchion, who had remained quiet, "I see we at least don't have to miss the silliness of the ponies back in Dawnpick...The ponies here are plenty silly for us." Un-noticed, a unicorn stallion in the shadows watched the caravan pass with nothing but pure fury in his gaze. ---- Friesden was thinking about the unicorn stallion still as they reached her father's home. It was a huge house, almost exuding dominance and wealth. Two stories tall, and far larger than the home they had had in Dawnpick. It was surrounded by a small wall, nowhere near as large as the city wall, but still well-made and defensible. The gates were about the size of four ponies abreast, and four ponies tall, hinged and swinging inward. They were made of oak planks, and were sturdily crafted. As the gates were swung open by a pair of palomino unicorn mares inside, Friesden was able to see the mansion proper. It was made of wood, like many of the houses here and in Dawnpick. It was mostly bull-oak from the outside, and (like the others) treated to protect it from burrowing insects, and rot. Small sigils of magic marked its external walls, little symbols of protective magic upon the house and those within it. Her eyes were torn from the mansion itself as the two unicorns who had opened the gate approached, smiles on their faces. Friesden watched them curiously as they approached Fauchard and Glaive. Fauchard smiled in turn as Rose and Lion came up to meet them. It had been eight years since he had seen the two servant-mares, and it was good to see them again. He remembered their mother, who had been here before them... and her mother, before her. "Hello, Rose, Lion. How are you? How is my father? How is Voulge?" They curtsied to him. "We are well, sir. The master...Your father is inside, sir... and he is barely holding on," said Rose, sadness colouring her voice. "But... He's survived to see you return. He will be glad of it, sir." Fauchard nodded. "Then, my good mares, take us to him." He noted with some small pride that he was able to keep his voice stable, even now. He followed the two unicorn mares, drifting back into nostalgia as they began to talk with Glaive. Glaive, for his part, smiled sheepishly as the two mares began to fuss over him. Rose pulled a brush out of her saddlebags and began to brush his mane, though he'd have sworn he'd kept it at least sufficiently neat, while Lion murmured sympathetically as she looked at the marks on his armour. It was his own fault, really - the last time the mares had seen him was just before his sister's death. And after that... Anyway, they had only known him as a colt they had been doting on. It was, at least, tolerable. Falcata grimaced in distaste at the two unicorn mares' actions as she and Friesden assisted Kit getting down from the carriage. The young (well, thought Falcata, at least she seems young, even if she's almost my own age) mare was in her second trimester, and Fauchard and Glaive had slowed their speed to make sure to keep her comfortable... and safe. She'd been pregnant almost eight months now, and it would be another three months at least till she gave birth. Kit smiled shyly at them, and said "Thank you, Falcata, Friesden. I'm sorry to be a bother like this." Falcata felt her anger at the servants dissipate, at least a little. Kit was a calming pony. The pegasus mare had married Fauchard almost a year ago now, and Falcata still smiled at the memory. Even she admitted that they had been a cute couple... almost as much as her own son and Friesden. "You're no bother, Kit," she said, forcing her grimace into a smile. "It was our pleasure to help." She looked into the carriage, and finding Hatchet curled up asleep, her smile became genuine. She gently lifted him up, and placed him on her back. He didn't even stir, to which Falcata sighed in relief. Enough time for him to go wandering around and exploring the house in the morning. The three mares followed the others into the house, accompanied by Falchion and Balisong. The interior of the house was varnished pine and oak, well-made and secure. As Friesden looked around, she saw on the inner side of the wall more magical sigils. If they were having any effect on her, though, she didn't feel it. They passed through the house at a steady pace, and though many of the rooms were opened - at least partially - Friesden did not have a chance to see what was in them in any real detail. They turned right three doors into the corridor, turning left another two doors down. At the end of this corridor, there was a single door on the left, and the unicorn mares led them to this door. One of them knocked, and said "Master Voulge? Your family has arrived." They waited for a moment, and then opened the door. Fauchard and Glaive were the first in, and Glaive grimaced at the change in his grandfather since he had last seen him. No longer was he a sturdy, powerful, inspiring stallion... Rather, he was small, shrunken... broken. The wizened pony turned to look at the two who had entered, and eyes clouded with cataracts tried to recognise the two ponies. "What? Who... Who are you?" he asked, waving them closer with a hoof. Glaive hesitated, then stepped forward with Fauchard. "It's... It's me, grandfather. Glaive. Your grandson. Do you... do you remember me?" he asked, still coming to terms with the state of his grandfather. All through his foalhood, he had thought that Voulge would be a constant. The moon might stop, the stars might fall from the sky, the very sun refuse to shine, but Voulge... His grandfather... He would always be there. "Glaive? Yes, of course I remember you, colt! It's my body that's failing, not my mind." He coughed, a nasty hacking sound, and spoke again. "You're back... and just in time, too. The sawbones don't give me more than a month... I think they're being rather too optimistic in that regard." He tried to smile, but even that seemed faded and worn. "Well. Enough... enough small talk. You're back. It's good to see you, Glaive. Now... would it be too much to ask if you've brought me some great-grandfoals, too?" "Falchion? Balisong?" called Glaive, and Voulge's face lit up with delight as the twin alicorns came into the room. He smiled at them, and beckoned them closer. "Hello, you two. It's good to meet you at last. Your father spoke of you in his letters - did you know? - and it's good to see you in the flesh. Balisong, you look even more beautiful than your father said - must be your mother, it certainly isn't your father you're taking after there - and Falchion, you look like an athletic colt - no cutie mark? Never mind, your father was about your age when he got his, you'll have it there in no time." He looked around, and then turned in the direction of Glaive. "Am I mistaken, or do you have a third foal? Hatchet, wasn't it? Glaive nodded. "He's currently asleep, but I'll go fetch him." He left the room, and entered a short while later, with Falcata, Kit, and Friesden. "This is Falcata, my wife, and Hatchet is sleeping on her back." "Father," said Fauchard, indicating two of the ponies who had entered. "Glaive is not the only one with ponies for you to meet. This is Friesden, my adopted daughter, and this is Kit, my wife." The old pony nodded a greeting to the three mares. "I apologise for not getting up to greet you properly. For all the spirit is willing..." He subsided his speech for a moment, in thought. "My dear lady Falcata... Glaive wrote that you were quite the musician. If you would be so good...?" Falcata hesitated for a second, but then nodded. "I would be honored, Lord Voulge," she said, before turning to Balisong. "Balisong, would you please get my harp from the carriage?" Balisong nodded. "Yes, mum," she said, before walking back out. Voulge coughed again, "I think those doctors might have been more than a little optimistic about that expectancy." He turned to Fauchard. "You remember where the will is kept?" "Yes, father... but it's surely not that close, is it?" Fauchard asked in concern. If they'd moved faster... But no, he couldn't ask that of Kit, and he couldn't leave her behind, either. Voulge laughed. "I fear that I may need to expend my good humour here, for tomorrow I may be a grave stallion." An awkward silence settled on the room, to be broken as Balisong returned, carrying Falcata's harp reverently in her magic. "Here you are, mum," she said, lowering the harp in front of her. "I think I know of an appropriate song," Falcata said. As she began to play the harp, a haunting melody came forth. Fauchard and Glaive lowered their heads, and Voulge smiled. "You do me an honour, my lady," he said, sitting in to listen to the familiar music. As Falcata continued to play, she nodded to Balisong to join in. The alicorn filly hesitated for a second, before her horn glowed and a discant sounded forth. The music continued for another two minutes before Falcata brought the music to a close, and Balisong halted her own. On the bed, Voulge was still smiling, even in death. ---- As the sun set that night, two ponies met again. Perihelion had been sitting, writing a poem about the zony he had talked to. It ran: Oh, such a gentle-mare/ How could the heavens be so unfair/ To exile such heavenly body is treason/ Whose coat warms me like the summer sun/ I am afraid to know your name/ Knowing it could catch me aflame/ But not knowing it should be a sin/ Please, tell me and quieten my crawling skin? He had been reviewing it critically when the door was slammed open by a disgruntled unicorn pony in the Dischabel colours. He sighed, and put down the quill. Perihelion nodded to his friend, the lordling of Dischabel. "How did your...hmmm, intervention go?" He managed to hold back a little smirk at his friend's misguided actions... more particularly, his failure in them. Obsidian snarled. "Those bastards have no idea who they have messed with. They threatened me. Me! When father hears of this..." His face lifted in a cruel, predatory smile. "They'll wish they never came to Coupledye." Perihelion snorted. "Or, more likely, your father will tell you not to be rude to other ponies again. Remember the last time this happened?" He shook his head. "Best to let this go." "Let this go?" started Obsidian in amazement. "What about honour? My honour demands satisfaction." Perihelion frowned. "They threatened you today. How will your honour be worthy when you are dead? Leave them alone." Obsidian shook his head, and smiled knowingly. "I know how to separate them. Honour will be kept... but by no means will it displace practicality. They have some skeletons in the closet that they'll soon regret..."