//------------------------------//
// Issue 5: Walking the Path 
// Story: The Cyclops of the Forge 
// by GC13 
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"What is best for everypony." His thoughts kept returning to those words. Deep in his gut he could feel a knot, twisting and tightening the more he let himself think. A soft groan escaped his lips, and he rested his head on the floor again.

When he had been forced to choose between his dream and his calling, there had only ever been one possible outcome. Artifice was his passion, and he took pride in being one of the few pegasi to practice the craft. A life without valor, though, a peaceful life—it just wasn't a life worth living.

He closed his eyes, and immediately the pain in his stomach felt even worse. Why did it have to have to come down to a choice between his talent and his nature? There was no way he could live his life letting other ponies go into danger while he studied at home, but the thought of never creating again hurt him so much.

With his eyes closed, his mind was free to wander to the future. He could see himself, wearing the gold armor of a guard. It looked good, but the fit was off. Distracted by the knot in his stomach, which was throbbing with his heartbeat, he couldn't tell if his observation of the armor's fit was a metaphor or just a keen craftspony's eye.

Minor cosmetic deficiencies in their armor didn't matter in a true guard's eye, though, even if he noticed them. The armor was part of a uniform—the most important part. As long as it was worn, it would complete the ensemble by changing his coat, mane, tail, and eyes to the color of a guard's. Armored, on the job, and part of the team...

That thought made his stomach twist again. Back in the Royal Reserve Corps, being part of the team meant working and fighting as a group. Being there for his team came easily; depending on them did not. As a full guard, the demands of the team would be much greater. Being in the Royal Reserve Corps was an extracurricular activity, but being in the Royal Guard came with more expectations.

Despite its reputation for being filled – to a pony – with consummate professionals and stalwart defenders of the land, the Royal Guard strongly encouraged its members to have regular lives outside of work. Oh, Celestia... How long would he be in for before they dragged him out of the training rooms to find himself a—

There was a quiet knock at the door. Starforge's eyes opened and he turned his head towards it.

"Starforge?" The mayor's voice came through the door, though she sounded like she was trying not to speak too loudly. She was knocking on the door to her own office, as if he had some kind of a right to it. His stomach turned over again, but he also felt a wave of nausea. Still lying on the office floor, he fought back against the urge to vomit.

"Are you still in there?" she asked, not having heard a response. "Nopony saw you leave."

Grimacing, still feeling sick, Starforge stood up. "I'm..." he began. He felt so short of breath. His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply, then he breathed out normally. "I'm just thinking." With shaky legs, he walked over to the door and opened it. The mayor gasped when she saw his face.

"I can go if you want," he told her, as he leaned against the doorway for support. Pausing only briefly to gather his strength, he took his weight off of the doorway and started walking into the hall.

"Starforge, wait," the mayor said. He turned back, and she hesitated for a moment. There was no gentle way to phrase what she was about to say, not quickly, so she just spoke. "You look awful," she said. "What happened?"

There was really no denying it. He should have left sooner—gone back to his hotel room where he could be alone. "I'll be fine," he said. "I just..." He looked down the hall, and swallowed. "I need some time to myself."

He bowed his head to her briefly, then turned towards the exit. "Good day, mayor."





Even in his restless sleep, brought on by a desperate emotional exhaustion, Starforge's dreams were taken from him. His bed was no less comfortable than it had been the night before, but he didn't feel like he was the same pony. A victor's sleep was deep and restful, but the sleep of the vanquished was always troubled.

It was not difficult to wake up a pony sleeping so lightly, and so fitfully. The panicked uproar outside snapped him to his feet, and turned his head immediately. Unsure whether he was awake or finally dreaming, he ran to the window. Everything certainly seemed to be as it should as he threw open the shades, then forced the window open with his hooves. The bright sun in the sky illuminated everything, and he could see quite clearly.

He dived out of the window and stretched his wings wide open, soaring into the sky. Beneath him, ponies ran down the street as fast as their legs would take him; above him, pegasi circled, or rested on convenient clouds. One of them called out to him.

"Starforge!" the pegasus shouted. He broke into a dive, and Starforge flew up to meet him. "There you are!" the pegasus called as he opened his wings to slow his descent. "Nopony could find you."

"What's going on here?" Starforge asked him grimly. He already knew the answer, and it wasn't good.

"The pangutans are back!" the pegasus exclaimed. "A lot of them are." He pointed towards the jungle, where a splotch of orange was barely visible against the green grass. "I..." he stammered. Swallowing deeply, the pegasus turned back to Starforge. "The Inspector was asking where you were, but he was pretty busy getting a flier to go to Canterlot."

"I'll find the Inspector," Starforge said. His head was still throbbing from the awful sleep he had, but he knew his duty. "Just stay safe." The pegasus nodded, and flew back up into the air—he certainly didn't need to be told twice.

Still aching in his head, Starforge flew towards the jungle. There were few ponies still in the streets beneath him—everypony else had probably already evacuated. Anypony still left in the streets was either a brave soul, or desperately searching for somepony else. It hurt him to ignore their plight; when disaster struck in Ponyville, he had always rushed to help other ponies endure the crisis. This was a different kind of catastrophe though, and he knew where his place was.

Lined up at the edge of town were the guard ponies that had come with Inspector Loosesheaf to Farrierview. A quick count showed Starforge that there were twelve: a full squad—enough to easily detect and handle a raiding party, but hardly fair odds against the whole war band. The Inspector was also with them, standing with the sergeant at the head of the formation.

Starforge touched down about ten feet in front of Loosesheaf. The Inspector turned to the sergeant, then nodded and stepped forward towards Starforge. As he walked, the rest of the unit walked behind him.

"I must confess," the Inspector said as he reached Starforge, and the pegasus moved to walk beside him. "I was not certain that you would come." Rather than reply, Starforge focused his mind on his armor. Responding to his mental impulse, it tore open a hole in the air around him and teleported to him from his workshop. In the blink of an eye, the pieces flew into place and attached to one another—it had taken less than a second to armor the colt, from muzzle to tail.

After walking for about a minute, the pangutans were close enough for the ponies to be able to get a clear look at them. At the front of the group, there were dozens of the apes holding their bows. Each of them had an arrow in their hands, already nocked on the bow. Behind them were more apes in all shapes and sizes, almost beyond counting. Crowd estimation was a vital skill for a guard, though, and Starforge could tell that there were at least five hundred—probably more than seven hundred.

"I'll take the left half," Starforge said, loudly and clearly. The Inspector may have taken his dream from him, but he still had his calling—he could still fight. "The rest of you take the right half." Breathing slowly – in, then out... in, then out – he prepared himself for combat. This was exactly where he belonged.

"Do not be too hasty," the Inspector said. He stopped, and held a hoof in front of Starforge. After Starforge stopped, Loosesheaf pointed his hoof towards the approaching mass of pangutans. "There are warriors, yes, but behind them," he said while pointing his hoof. "Females, young, elderly, wounded."

The horde of pangutans stopped about two hundred feet away from the squadron of ponies. As he looked at them, Starforge could see that Inspector Loosesheaf was right: of the probably eight hundred apes in front of them, less than sixty of them were standing in the battle line. With two unicorn guard ponies, and maybe Loosesheaf too, screening the arrows, the three earth ponies could cut the line in half while the seven pegasi swept in from the flanks.

Starforge nodded. Scraping a hoof against the grass, he planned out the fight in his mind. Everything was building up inside of him—he needed this. He needed to let it all out, somehow. His anticipation burned him, and only his concentration kept his breaths strong and deep rather than short and shallow. "Wait for me to break their line, then—"

"And this is why you need direction," the Inspector said. "Sergeant," he said, turning his head to the right. "Hold position; I do not think we will need to fight this battle." He then turned to his left. "Starforge, with me." Leaving the safety of the Royal Guard squad behind him, Loosesheaf made his way for the space in between the two forces. Starforge followed, one step behind him.

The two stopped somewhere roughly in the middle of the two groups. "You really think they'll be willing to talk this out?" Starforge asked, looking towards the apes. They were confused. Some of the warriors held their bows up, as if they were considering firing, and behind them numerous apes whispered to each other.

"Of course," Loosesheaf replied. "Nopony brings wounded if they plan battle." His eyes swept from left to right, over the horde of pangutans in front of him. The battle line looked hastily assembled: only some of them had quivers, and the apes behind them were disorganized. There seemed to be no planning behind it at all.

Out of the pangutan group, two large apes stepped forward. In the lead was a wizened pangutan. Several patches of his fur had turned from orange to gray, and wrinkles had formed ridges on his forehead and cheeks. He walked with something of a limp, holding a stick in his right hand to help support himself, but the rest of his body still seemed to be quite capable. His arms, though moving stiffly, were still quite thick.

The pangutan behind him did not seem to suffer from such infirmities: he was simply large, strong, and wary. Not having any of the wrinkles or gray fur of the leader, this pangutan was more distinguishable by the gear he carried. On his chest, he wore a bronze breast plate. Though he had left his bow and quiver behind, he still kept a large bronze knife strapped to his side.

As they neared, Inspector Loosesheaf's horn began to glow gently. The two pangutans tensed briefly, but relaxed when he discharged the energy into the grass. A light-purple circle, just big enough for a pony to stand in, had appeared in the grass. Unless the Inspector knew the pangutans' language, it was probably a translation circle of some kind.

Inspector Loosesheaf stepped into the circle, and the pangutans approached. Tense, Starforge stayed one step behind the Inspector. Normally, it would not be nearly as hard for him to keep calm. His pent-up emotions – shame, despair, even anger – made it difficult for him to hold back. Still, he knew his job. Instead of attacking, he kept his eyes on the pangutan leader's bodyguard.

The bodyguard looked back, his eye looking up and down Starforge's armor. It was clear that he hadn't seen anything like it. The bodyguard's own breast plate was primitive, of little use for much beyond protecting his vital parts from another pangutan's arrows. The knife he was wearing was fairly sharp though, and Starforge came to focus on it. If it came down to a fight, he could probably have the pangutan on the ground before he could reach it. Then, it would just be a matter of smashing his hand before he could try to use it.

"Speak," the Inspector said to the leader. "I will understand your words."

The pangutan leader spoke, for quite some time. Inspector Loosesheaf didn't try to say much, only every so often saying things like "I understand" and "continue." At the very end of the pangutan leader's long monologue, Loosesheaf simply said "this is true."

While Starforge kept his watchful eyes on the pangutan bodyguard, the Inspector turned back. Staring at Starforge, he tried to decipher what was going on in the colt's mind. His face was covered by his helmet, but Loosesheaf could still look at the tell-tale emotional cues betrayed by his eyes.

"The pangutans have been forced from their city," he said. "Beasts made of living rock have attacked them from the 'forbidden place', and are keeping everypony away from the city." Starforge gritted his teeth upon hearing about magical constructs made of rock, and the Inspector saw his eyes narrow as soon as he mentioned the "forbidden place".

Starforge shook his head slowly from side to side, but kept his eyes focused forward. Everything in front of him looked like he was seeing it through a long tunnel, and he wished he really could be far away. But no... He still had a job to do. He turned to look at Loosesheaf, but turned away as the Inspector met his gaze.

"I'm sorry..." Starforge said, hanging his head low. "This is all my fault." He closed his eyes and focused himself. His own feelings didn't matter, Farrierview mattered. Even the pangutans mattered: they didn't deserve to be driven from their home. There was only one thing for him to do.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head. "I'll take care of it." Without waiting for approval or acknowledgment, he spread his wings and flew into the air.





The construct was big, but it moved clumsily. The entire thing was carved out of a single piece of black rock, with no detailing on its four limbs or its head. As Starforge dove head-first to attack it, the walking statue lifted an arm up to protect its head. Starforge smirked: the arm would be an easier target for him.

Lifting his wings, Starforge evened out his flight path earlier than he had planned to. He twisted slightly to the left, so rather than flying over the thing's head he would pass over its shoulder instead. The construct gazed at him blankly, its featureless face incapable of expressing either fear or confusion.

As he passed over the construct, Starforge thrust a fore hoof down onto its elbow. Its arm was bent perfectly to resist the blow rather than be pushed by it. Metal struck rock, and both refused to yield.

The rock was coursing with magical energy, but behind the metal flowed the blood of a stallion. A fracture formed in the statue's elbow. It was small at first, but Starforge had strength to spare. He followed through with his strike, throwing his weight down into it.

A spider web of hairline fractures erupted from the central break in the rock, then the fissured opened in a sudden burst. The arm crumbled under Starforge's assault, and it fell to the ground in small chunks.

Starforge landed on the ground quickly. Behind him, the construct managed to wildly stumble a single step, attempting to turn around. With the breaking of its shell, however, all of the magic inside of it fled—the balloon had been popped, so to speak, and the air had rushed out of it. No longer animated by magical energy, the crude thing collapsed to the ground, lifeless once more.

Triumphant, Starforge turned his head to the sky. "I've destroyed all of your guardians, Beglan!" he shouted. "I'm coming for you next!" He dug at the dirt with a hoof. The area around the Forge house was clear—there would be nothing coming to Beglan's aid.

Slowly, he turned towards the Forge house. The force of constructs had been scattered through the city, but the Forge house had been at the center of their loose patrol patterns. It made perfect sense: there wasn't much else in the city worth protecting. Now, Starforge just hoped Beglan wasn't one to shy away from a fight just because he didn't have any help coming.

Starforge stepped towards the Forge house, warily watching his surroundings. The constructs he had faced were numerous, but very crude; he was certain they were far below Beglan's true abilities. If a golem was lying in wait for him in the dark halls somewhere, it could hold him in combat indefinitely—so long as Starforge was able to last during the battle. If Beglan chose to attack him then, he would be easy pickings for the cyclops.

Above him, the leaves rustled. He snapped his head back and up to see the source of the disturbance, then groaned. One of the pegasi of the Royal Guard was descending towards him, carrying Inspector Loosesheaf in his hooves. Both of them wore their practiced faces: the Royal Guard one of unfeeling, the Inspector one of uncaring.

Still on edge, he took one last look over his shoulder to make sure there was nothing leaving the Forge house. Satisfied, he stepped over towards where Loosesheaf was landing.

"What is it?" Starforge demanded as Loosesheaf's hooves hit the ground. "I've just secured the area." He turned towards the Forge house. "But I can't promise that Beglan doesn't have any surprises waiting inside."

"Maybe you will not need to worry about them," Loosesheaf said. He nodded to the guard, who immediately flew back up into the canopy. The Inspector walked towards Starforge, stopping next to him. "Tell me, how did you intend to resolve the situation?"

"He pushed first," Starforge said simply. "I was going to push back."

"That is quite brave of you," the Inspector said, expressionless. His horn glowed, and lifted a book out of the pack he was carrying on his back. "But you might not have to fight." He held the book forward so Starforge could see: it was The Cyclopes of the Forge.

His helmet masked the confusion on his face, but it carried through in his voice. "What did you bring that here for?" he asked. "What did you find?"

"You told me you placed a flight spell into the crown you offered in exchange for the hammer," Loosesheaf said. His horn glowed more brightly, and the book flipped open to nearly the end. "It is true that the book does not state a definite requirement for the offering, but it offers a good idea."

The pages stopped turning for just a moment on the approximation of Beglan's final words: the last part of the book Starforge read before his trip into the jungle. Then, with a flourish, Loosesheaf turned the page.

The section header leapt out at him: "The meaning behind the words." Loosesheaf turned the page two more times, revealing six pages of analysis by scholars of what Beglan likely meant. The pages passed by too quickly for Starforge to read, but he had read enough of the book to get the idea: there was plenty of homework for the researchers to do, and they knew how to do it.

The Inspector closed the book, and started placing it back into his pack. "There is a lot of dithering," he said. "But the book eventually concludes that Beglan desired that a powerful sleeping spell be placed onto the crown." He nodded to Starforge. "If you can find and re-work the crown, perhaps you might put the giant back to sleep."

Starforge immediately felt sick to his stomach again, and his face burned like it was on fire. He turned to Loosesheaf and opened his mouth to try to speak, but he couldn't think of anything to say. After a moment, he closed his mouth and hung his head.

A booming laugh filled the air. It was loud and slow, and not at all pleasant. His mortification replaced with a sense of danger, Starforge shot his head up and joined Loosesheaf in searching for the source of the sound. It was coming from high in the air, somewhere in front of them, but too low to be coming from the trees.

"Isn't this time just full of surprises?" a voice asked, from the same empty space the laugh had boomed from. "I'm glad. I was beginning to worry that the ponies of this time had lost their ability to read." It laughed again. "Or maybe you all can still read, but some are just too impatient to do so."

At ground level, a cloud of orange smoke erupted ten feet ahead of the two ponies. The cloud rapidly solidified into a massive, nearly featureless figure. It was eight feet tall, almost three times as tall as either of the ponies standing before it, with a head, two arms, and two legs.

The details of the figure filled in as the last traces of smoke disappeared. The figure's orange surface became hairy; arms grew hands, which grew fingers; a mouth, a nose, two ears, and an eye developed. Its face was one that Starforge knew well, having seen it several times in the book.

"Beglan," he spat, stepping a hoof forward. He held his head high, trying to look the giant in the eye. "You've got a lot of guts, showing your–"

Beglan waved a dismissive hand at Starforge. "Don't make me trifle with you, colt." He snorted at Starforge. "I have a city to rebuild." He turned around, gesturing at the dead city around them. "Then I will find and train a new Forge Master." The giant finally directed his eye to Starforge. "You can keep my hammer," he said. "As a gift of thanks, for at least being willing to attempt the challenge."

"If that's what this is all about," Starforge said to the giant. "Then just make me the Forge Master. You don't need to force the pangutans from their homes."

Beglan chuckled. "An interesting proposition," he said. "But I was able to feel your stress as you took the test: you still require quite a bit of instruction." Crossing his arms over his chest, he snorted again. "And I can't deal with a pupil who cannot follow simple instructions." Accusingly, he pointed a large finger at Starforge. "You have the ability to learn, but not the willingness to!" He narrowed his brow, looking down at the young artificer. "You are not worthy."

"I'm not going to let you simply throw the pangutans from their homes!" Starforge roared. "And unlike you, I'm not going to send a horde of shabby, sub-standard constructs to do my job."

Beglan chuckled, then looked at Starforge curiously. Far from backing down, the colt seemed to be practically bristling. Judging from his posture, every muscle in his body must have been tensed.

"You're not joking, are you?" Beglan asked him. Standing very still, Inspector Loosesheaf's eyes turned towards Starforge.

Starforge shook his head. "I could be the Forge Master," he said. "But whether I am or not, I'm not letting you throw the pangutans out."

The giant took a deep breath. He cracked the knuckles on his left hand, then his right, and looked straight into Starforge's eyes. "So, you really do want to face me?" As he spoke, he rolled his shoulders and gently stretched his arms. The Inspector simply nodded—he knew Starforge wouldn't turn his back on this fight. Calmly, and slowly, he walked away from Starforge so the field would be clear.

"Yes," Starforge said, with a nod. He stepped a hoof towards Beglan, and held his head up high. "I woke you up, so this is my fight." Starforge tensed his hind legs and leaned forward. He was ready to explode forward at an instant's notice.

Beglan charged forward. "Very well!" he shouted. Though he was a giant, Beglan was amazingly quick. Starforge managed to jump forward and to the side, but he could not dodge the fist completely. Rather than coming down on his head, the giant's fist slammed into his back.

Starforge grunted. His armor was meant to protect him from talons and teeth: heavy things wouldn't have a chance of penetrating his armor, but his padding could only protect him so much. If he took too many hits that hard, he'd go down as surely as if he had taken a heavy kick to his unarmored belly.

For his part, Beglan didn't seem to be bothered by striking his massive fist against hard metal. The cyclops swung it back around, then swept it towards Starforge while the pony tried to open his wings and take to the air. This time, the fist found its mark: it struck Starforge's left flank, hitting him hard enough to knock him off of his hooves and send him skidding through the dirt.

"Time for a field test..." Starforge mumbled as he climbed back to his hooves. He flapped his wings and took to the air, flying high up and out of Beglan's reach. "Bully mark three!"

Underneath his back plate, at the base of his neck, the Bully injector silently whirred into action. Its throttle opened three units wide, and it began giving Starforge a moderate dose of the alchemical concoction. Starforge suddenly found himself half-again as strong as quick, and Beglan saw the pony gain a sudden burst of speed just as he came within striking range.

Surprised, Beglan wasn't able to get a fist up in time. Starforge flapped his wings as hard as he could, then thrust forward with both fore hooves.

The hooves hit Beglan's skull with a loud CLACK. Thrown off-balance by the fierce strike, the cyclops instinctively acted to keep himself from falling backwards. He threw an arm forward to help balance himself, and threw a leg back to catch himself.

Starforge roared: with the Bully flowing through his veins, he felt so strong! He adjusted the angle of his wings, turning tightly in the air and coming around for another strike. His wings continued flapping, driving him forward so quickly he appeared as a blur.

His eyes narrowed: Beglan's skull was thick, and the last hit hadn't even made him dizzy. This time, Starforge was going to aim a little lower. Focusing on the giant's neck, he managed to perfect his aim, but also announced his target.

Standing solidly on his feet again, Beglan was a dangerous target. He was able to see Starforge's trajectory, and began swinging a massive fist into the armored pony's path. Overconfident, and too focused on his own attack, Starforge didn't see that the fist would strike him until it was too late.

Having been started from over Beglan's head, and powering down towards the oncoming pony, the force behind the blow was immense. It hammered into the side of Starforge's chest plate, sending him off-course.

Starforge felt the pain in his ribcage first, as if somepony had taken a hammer to his unarmored chest, then his face slammed into the dirt. Still having a lot of speed behind him, Starforge slid for a dozen feet before coming to rest.

There was no way he was going to let himself be taken out of the fight though: he felt too powerful. Immediately, Starforge sprang back up. Both fighters turned around to face each other; Beglan raised his fists, ready to punish another attack, and Starforge spread his wings again. Ready to bring the giant down, he took flight again, keeping low to the ground.

His target was the gap in between the giant's legs. Timing was key: Starforge's wings were encumbered by the armor on them, but he could easily pass through the legs with his wings closed. Still, speed was also vital: Beglan's face showed the tell-tale signs of recognition. Flying as quickly as he could, Starforge raced to attack before Beglan could counter-attack or defend himself.

A fist came crashing down, directly in front of Starforge. Thrown down too early to strike him, the arm was still a formidable obstacle. If he ran into it, he would fall to the ground directly in front of the cyclops, who could grab him and thrash him against the ground at his leisure.

The pony grinned—Beglan had made the wrong move. Throwing himself to the side, Starforge avoided the obstacle, then immediately twisted again to reverse his angle. He shot through Beglan's legs, and immediately spread his wings open. Needing to stop as rapidly as possible, he also dug his fore hooves into the dirt. Finally, needing to attack just as quickly, he pulled his hind hooves back.

Stopped, and braced against the dirt, Starforge lashed out with his hind hooves. Beglan's legs were strong, but they were not his target. Instead, Starforge's hooves slammed the back of the cyclops's knee, where there was little his muscles could do to help him. With a crash, the giant's knee struck the ground.

With Starforge behind him, there was little Beglan could do to defend himself; before he could get up, the pony had already spun back around and ferociously rammed his helmeted head into Beglan's kidney.

"Argh!" Beglan roared. His vision turned to white, and he fell forward. His lower back throbbed where Starforge had hit him, and he desperately tried to concentrate. There was no way he could fight now.

Starforge ran around the fallen giant, until he was standing in front of his head. His vision still clearing, Beglan could barely make out the imperious look in the colt's eyes. Concentrate, he had to concentrate... With great effort, his right hand closed. A cloud of orange smoke erupted, and Beglan disappeared.

"Impressive!" Beglan's pained voice boomed as the smoke cleared. "If you are willing to face a prepared, armed, and armored foe, then I will grant you what you seek: you may retake my test and prove yourself—in the workshop and on the battlefield."