***
"Again!"
Stout Hoof’s ears pricked up instinctively as the harsh command echoed through the clearing like a thunderclap.
Lifting his gaze from the dark patch of earth beneath him, his eyes widened as he caught sight of the heavy wooden staff bearing down on his flank.
Without thinking, the colt dropped into a crouch and vaulted to one side. The barest hint of relief rushed through his form as the sharp whoosh of a misplaced swing registered in his ear.
Too close.
Shifting his weight to his hindlegs, Stout Hoof flicked his right hoof forward. With the smooth click of wooden slats sliding into place, his own combat staff—shorter in length but made of the same dense material as his adversary’s—shot out from its leg-sheath, locking parallel to his foreleg.
Springing forward, the young colt let loose with a low, sweeping blow. His opponent—an older black pegasus whose graying mane showed signs of better years behind him—parried gracefully.
The stallion's dusty grey robes were well-worn—blackened in some spots by forge fire—but, despite his age and attire, he moved with the swiftness of a pony many years his junior.
Clack! The sound of the blocked swing echoed through the clearing .
“Ahh, so you were paying attention then?”
The old stallion’s voice bounced as he spoke, his words tinged in a heavy Istallion accent.
“Good.”
Pulling his combat staff away from the block, the stallion shifted back into a defensive stance. The smaller earth pony followed suit, breathing heavily. He could hear his own tiny heart thundering in his chest.
The tapered ends of the pegasai’s graying moustache perked upwards in a provoking smile.
“Very good.”
He winked.
Without hesitation, Stout Hoof launched into another strike, this time swinging his armed hoof upwards toward the stallion’s jawline. The air whistled past his staff as he swung.
Clack! Thwack! Clock!
The two exchanged a series of quick blows, the colt’s opponent blocking his every swing.
Clack!
Their weapons locked a second time. Forehead damp with perspiration, the colt eyed the older stallion warily.
The stallion returned his gaze with a raised eyebrow. Slowly, the curious expression shifted into a knowing grin.
Before Stout Hoof could react, the pegasai drew back, shifting his weight onto his hind hooves and lifting his staff high into the air in one fluid motion.
The colt’s eyes widened in surprise. Rearing back, he braced himself for the inevitable blow.
It never came.
"Huh? Yipe!”
Without warning, the stallion’s back hoof darted out with practiced precision, eliciting a surprised yelp from the colt as his hindlegs were swept out from beneath him. The horizon blurred in his vision as he tumbled backwards, landing in the dirt with a dense thud.
He could almost hear his racing mind ordering at his muscles to move.
Get up. Get up. Get up!
Planting his hooves on the ground beside him, he tensed, preparing to spring upwards again—
—only to find the rounded point of the pegasai's combat staff hovering inches from his neck.
With slow, heavy breaths, Stout Hoof lifted his eyes.
The stern gaze of the older stallion met his own. Despite the years visible in his faded blue eyes, the pegasai’s rigid stance betrayed no signs of exertion. No signs of fatigue.
The colt took a deep breath. Then another.
Slowly, a smile broke across his muzzle.
He sighed and raised a hoof.
“Give.”
A similar grin broke across the face of the older stallion. Chuckling warmly, he lowered his weapon, nodding toward the colt.
“That was good Stout Hoof! Very good! Not much longer and it will be me looking up to you from the ground.”
Flicking his foreleg back, the stallion’s training staff slid back into its sheath with a soft click. He offered his free hoof to the fallen colt.
Lifting a hoof of his own, Stout Hoof gladly accepted the gesture, sparing a quick glance at their surroundings.
The morning was still young, the first rays of sunlight just breaching the treetops surrounding the open field. In the morning light, the colt’s own appearance stood in contrast to the darker coat of his mentor as it always did, his brown coat and chestnut mane still holding all the youthful vibrance of his twelve years.
He could hear his mentor chuckle again.
"It would seem Stablesworth has another up-and-coming swordstallion in it's midst."
The colt could feel a wide grin break over his muzzle as he steadied himself, glancing back up at his mentor with wide eyes.
“You really think so, Steel Wing?”
His eyes darted from his flank—which was bare—to his mentor’s, where the stallion's "special mark"—a thundercloud pierced by a silver sword—sat proudly.
A flash of hope flared up in the colt’s chest. He glance back at the stallion.
“You think I can be a swordstallion, someday, too?”
Meeting the wide green eyes of the young earth pony with his own, the older stallion chuckled once more and nodded.
“There’s nothing I’m more certain of figilo—”
He reached forward with a hoof, mussing the colt's dark mane.
“—nothing I'm more certain of at all.”
***
Stout Hoof could feel the midday sun on his back, his cloak pleasantly warm against his coat. The forest around him was green—vibrant—the smell of late spring in the air.
It had been a long winter. Too long, really.
Stout Hoof had spent the last few months tending to the forge, practicing outside when the weather was clear enough, but the cold snows that fell this far north made it difficult. The holdings that the kingdom laid claim to were large, but much of it was untamed wilderness. Many of the lesser traveled roads were nearly impassible in winter without wings or magic, including the graveled path that led to his and Steel Wing's abode.
Since the forest had begun to thaw, he and Steel Wing had only made one other trip this year. To one of the nearby villages.
Shaking his head, the colt glanced down at his own figure.
His combat rod—as always—remained strapped to the inside of his foreleg, concealed for the time being beneath the baggy sleeves of his plain, beige cloak. Resting in the small satchel at his side, he carried with him the small parcel that Steel Wing had given him after their morning practice had come to an end.
The colt recalled their exchange with a proud grin.
"Stout Hoof—" the black pegasus had said, waving his hoof toward the far end of the practice field "—the Baron is stopping by the forge again this afternoon to inspect his order."
Reaching into the satchel at his side, the stallion had procured a small bundle of papers, tapping them with a hoof.
"While I'm busy speaking with him, I'll need you to take these to the city courier for me. They're for next month's delivery."
Stout Hoof had felt his eyes widen.
“You mean—”
Steel Wing had nodded, a small grin crossing his face.
“Yes figilo, you’ll be going on your own. Do you think you can handle it?”
Whumph.
The colt had fallen onto his haunches, a giddy squee escaping his lips.
The older stallion had chuckled, tousling the colt's mane before continuing in a more fatherly tone.
“Now remember, Stout Hoof, this is a special privilege, traveling to the city by yourself.”
He'd draped a cloak over Stout Hoof's shoulders, regarding him with a more serious gaze.
“Just make sure to keep your cloak on at all times and try not to linger. Like I’ve told you, it’s important that you don’t—“
The rest of his mentor's words, however, had fallen upon deaf ears.
Though the forge was not five miles from Stableworth itself, between his training and blacksmithing instruction, Stout Hoof seldom had the chance to visit it, even outside of the winter months. On the few trips he and Steel Wing made there a season, the pegasus had always kept him at his side. The colt had never been there on his own before.
Having accepted the package from his mentor, he'd sped off down the road to the capital, leaving a tiny, colt-shaped plume of smoke in his wake.
Even now, his hooves felt light beneath him, his tiny chest beaming with pride.
On my own. Just like a big colt.
Taking inventory of his surroundings, Stout Hoof trained his eyes on the thinning trees ahead. It looked like he had reached the end of the forest.
Lengthening his strides, the colt quickened his pace. As he emerged into the open air at the forest's edge, he couldn’t help but stop and stare.
Built at the base of a towering mountain, the outer walls of Stableworth loomed before him, stretching toward the limits of his vision in either direction. Fortified bastions projected outwards from the gray stone at regular intervals—each adorned with banners, sigils, and posts upon posts of pegasai guardsponies clad in golden armor. Rows of ballistae and trebuchets loomed from behind the parapets, casting menacing shadows across the field below.
Dizzy with excitement, the colt closed his eyes.
No longer obscured by trees, the low thrumming noise of the city broke over him like a wave. The cacophony of pony drawn wagons, commoners talking, and market ponies bargaining with travelers sounded nothing at all like the still quiet of the forge.
He loved it.
Pulling his thoughts together, the colt cracked his eyelids back open.
Across the ocean of buildings and streets beyond the wall, he could make out the sight of the castle, settled just beyond a second set of high walls at the far end of the city.
Even from this distance, its size was considerable. The brilliant white cathedral stared over the city like a monarch atop their throne, an intricate network of buttresses, spires, and open verandas standing out proudly against the darker backdrop of the mountain.
Stout Hoof's eyes sparkled as he took in the sight. He wished he could see it up close.
He sighed a moment later, waving away the thought. Only knights and nobles were allowed entrance into the castle, after all.
Shaking his head, he continued forward, making his way toward the wide, stone archway that led into the city. The two pegasai guards at the entrance stood firm and resolute, but paid no mind as the small brown colt scurried inside.
Immediately, Stout Hoof found himself caught up in a sea of ponies milling about the cobblestone streets. He'd forgotten how busy the market district could get. Letting out a small yelp as another wave of ponies surged past, he dodged through hooves and carts alike, eventually making it to the edge of the street where traffic was slower.
He wiped his brow with a hoof.
Whew. That had been close.
Shaking his head, the colt set off at a steady clip. Memories of past trips at Steel Wing’s side guided his hooves as he made his way to the courier’s station.
The colt grinned.
This wasn't so hard, was it?
He glanced up at the streets around him, eyes wide with excitement. At the edges of the walkways, street vendors—most of them unicorns dressed in flashy, exotic robes—held their wares up for all to see.
Apples, cutlery, clay pots, wheels—there was even a stand devoted to selling nothing but quills and an odd-looking piece of furniture he heard one pony refer to as a “sofa.”
The colt paused, shaking his head.
As much fun as it was seeing the sights, he had to make sure he stayed focused on the task at hoof. Steel Wing had trusted him enough to let him make the trip on his own, after all.
A moment later, however, Stout Hoof felt the ponies around him begin to slow. A crowd had begun to gather down the street ahead, just outside the edge of the market district.
The colt raised an eyebrow.
Rearing up on his hind legs as best he could, he squinted, trying to peer over the sea of ponies before him.
It was difficult to make out, but through the ocean of equine forms, Stout Hoof could catch glimpses of a crowd gathered at the edge of one of the streets farther ahead—stamping their hooves and cheering. Ponies were waving banners in the air, some unicorn and pegasai parents raising foals up onto their shoulders for a better view of...whatever it was...that had caught their attention further up the road.
Stout Hoof shot a hesitant glance to the parcel tucked under his cloak. Then back at the street ahead.
He bit his lip, trying to fight his rising curiosity.
"...just make sure to keep your cloak on at all times and try not to linger...."
The colt sighed, dropping back down onto his hooves as Steel Wing’s words came back to him. He shook his head, nodding firmly to himself.
He had a job to do. As a future swordstallion, it was important he didn't let his mentor down.
Making a point to look away from the gathering crowd, Stout Hoof oriented himself back in the direction of the courier’s station and lifted a hoof forward.
Without warning, another round of cheers erupted behind him. This one accompanied by the call of trumpets in the background.
Spinning on hoof, the colt made a beeline toward the noise, a wide grin on his face. After a few more minutes of weaving his way through the growing forest of limbs and hooves, he finally managed to poke his head out from underneath a stalled apple cart at the street's edge.
Taking in the scene before him, the young earth pony quickly caught sight of the source of the crowd’s sudden interest.
His eyes widened.
Drawn by two lines of white coated, blue-maned unicorn guards in shining golden armor, he could see a shining, silver chariot—a royal procession making its way down the city street.
The massive, open carriage advanced slowly down the center of the cobblestone road, throngs of ponies gathered at every side street that emptied into it. Brilliant rays of sunlight glinted off the carriage's sides, flashing in all directions.
On either side of it, etched in solid gold, was the crest that Stout Hoof had known from the time he could stand.
The seal of Stablesworth. A crescent moon nestled into the side of a fiery, golden sun.
The crowds in the street parted before the procession like water, scurrying out of the way with awe and wonder.
At the helm of the open carriage, Stout Hoof could make out a crimson-maned unicorn stallion, his frame large and imposing. Thin, golden filaments had been woven in to his deep red beard and a heavy jewel encrusted crown—the same hue as his golden coat—enwreathed his horn. Thick, gold-plated armor hung heavily across his shoulders and flanks, but the stallion moved as if it was made of cloth.
Though Stout Hoof had only seen the unicorn’s likeness on banners and coins before, his likeness was unmistakable.
King Apollinaris himself.
A second chorus of cheers erupted from the crowd as an elegant unicorn mare—no doubt Queen Korrina herself—rose up at the king's side. An equally magnificent, silver crown encircled her own horn but, in place of her husband’s armor, she wore a simple chain and pendant around her neck. She flashed an elegant, regal smile as she raised a hoof of her own, her midnight blue coat sitting in stark contrast to the fiery palette of the king.
Though she was originally from outside the kingdom, she'd quickly become a popular figure to the public as well. Stableworth's trade with Cantelria at its borders had risen dramatically since her wedding to Apollinaris had taken place.
Stout Hoof blinked, another fresh round of cheers breaking him from his stupor.
Wincing as he realized he was getting caught up in the moment, his eyes wandered down to his cloak. The outline of the parcel in his satchel stared back at him, still waiting to be delivered.
The colt could feel a small pang of guilt in his chest. Sighing, he turned, glancing back to take one last look at the royal procession—
—and stopped dead in his tracks.
Time seemed to slow as the colt's eyes found themselves drawn to the back of the royal carriage.
Seated behind the King and Queen sat two young unicorn mares, no older than Stout Hoof himself.
The first mare—the younger of the two—had the same starry features as the Queen. A delicate, silver tiara graced her light blue mane just below her horn, almost luminescent against her twilight-colored coat. Despite the cheers that echoed from the crowd as she raised a hoof, the young unicorn’s stance was somewhat less assured than her mother’s.
Wrapped in a long, starry cloak and sitting as far back from the carriage’s edge as she could manage, it looked as if being on display was the last thing the small unicorn wanted.
The colt's eyes widened.
But the second mare...
Stout Hoof blinked, the sounds of the crowd slowly fading in his ears. He stood—transfixed—as the carriage drew closer, his hooves fixed firmly in place beneath him.
Though partially shrouded in the cloak that hung from her shoulders—the same, golden color as the king's armor—what Stout Hoof could see of the second mare's white coat flashed like fire beneath the midday sun.
Her slight frame sat poised with all the grace and elegance of the the king and queen before her, her flowing mane—a stunning shade of reddish-pink—drawn into a neat ponytail held together by two, thin, golden clasps. A small tiara sat upon her head with a single magenta-colored jewel at its center—the same color as her eyes.
Unlike the younger mare beside her, she seemed entirely at ease with the roar of the crowd, gracefully turning her head side to side as she met their cheers with a confident smile.
Almost in a daze, Stout Hoof watched as she turned in his direction.
The roar of the crowd faded completely. Time seemed to stop altogether.
The colt's heart skipped a beat.
He stared ahead, mesmerised, the mare's shimmering, sparkling eyes meeting his for a brief moment. Despite the fact he couldn't move his hooves, he suddenly felt weightless, wispy, as if he'd just grown wings of his own and taken off into the sky.
To his amazement, the mare seemed to acknowledge the moment as well—her eyelids lifting in an expression of silent surprise as her lips parted ever so slightly.
Then, in an instant, she was gone. Several members of the crowd had broken ranks, shifting themselves to the front of the apple cart, obscuring Stout Hoof's view of the procession.
Too stunned to move, the colt sat silently in shock, his eyes staring straight ahead.
He blinked. Blinked again. Shook his head.
In the midst of the daze still washing over him, the colt hadn't noticed that the clasp on his cloak had come undone. He was only dimly aware of the fact it had slid off his shoulders along with his satchel, exposing his back to the cool, shaded air beneath the apple cart.
The colt continued to look on, though, holding the same, slack jawed expression.
A gruff voice suddenly broke the colt from his trance.
“Hey you. Foal.”
Hm?
Stout Hoof's ear twitched, swiveling his head.
Pushing through the crowded street in his direction, Stout Hoof could see three pegasai guards in full armor—their coats dyed regulation blue and white. A nervous chill ran down his spine as he shrunk back against one of the wheels of the apple cart, averting his eyes. Maybe they were talking to somepony else.
The call of trumpets managed to catch the colt's attention once more. Glancing back toward the procession, he could just make out the carriage being swallowed up by the crowd. He could feel a faint twinge of disappointment, sadness, as it rolled out of sight.
The feeling was cut short, however, as the gruff voice called out in his direction a second time.
“Earth pony. I’m talking to you.”
Turning to face the advancing pegasai, Stout Hoof could feel his stomach sink. The guard's eyes were undoubtedly locked on his.
Planting their hooves squarely in front the cart, each guard stood a full body taller than the colt—the identical, silver spaulders they wore only adding to their bulk.
Meeting their gazes, Stout Hoof could see the three guards narrow their eyes in his direction. Around them, the crowd had parted somewhat, the ponies watching the procession making an effort to ignore the scene taking place behind them.
The colt could feel his legs tense beneath him. He tried to reply, stumbling nervously over his words.
"W-what...w-what do you want?"
“What do I want?”
The center Pegasus—the band’s leader—raised an eyebrow, eyes widening in mock surprise. Holding a hoof to his chest he looked to the other two guards, feigning offense.
"I'm hurt."
He shifted his gaze back to Stout Hoof, smirking.
"You know, little foal, that doesn’t sound like the proper way to address a royal guard.”
Without warning, the white stallion leaned forward, his eyes narrowing into slits beneath his helmet.
“Especially when the one talking is a worthless little dirt pony.”
Stout Hoof's eyes widened.
Dirt pony? What did the guard mean?
Stout Hoof felt his face pale as several things clicked into place in his mind at once.
Looking around—as if for the first time—the colt realized that of all the ponies who had been watching the procession take place, there wasn't another earth pony to be seen.
In fact, he realized, he hadn't seen any other earth ponies since entering Stableworth. Aside from those that lived in the village near the forge or passed by on the road, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen any of them near the city before.
The colt's mind flashed back to a memory of his last trip to the city with Steel Wing.
“Steel Wing? Why do I have to stay in the market? I want to see the castle.”
“Just stay at my side, Stout Hoof, some ponies around here might not like to see you running around by yourself outside of the market.”
“But why?”
“Some ponies around here just aren’t very friendly to those who are…different. Just stay at my side for now, figilo, alright?”
“...alright…”
Stout Hoof’s shoulders tensed.
Glancing down at his fallen cloak, he suddenly realized why Steel Wing had always made him wear it when they were in the city.
Looking the three guards up and down, the colt’s eyes were drawn to the images tattooed on their flanks.
A mace. A bloodied axe. A spear. The special marks of the three pegasai each showed the same weapon that they had hanging from their sides.
Stout Hoof felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
They wouldn't hurt him just because he was an earth pony...would they?
“Are you deaf, foal?”
Mace Hide, the one who had spoken before, spat at the frozen colt, sudden anger seeping into his voice. His mocking tone had disappeared, replaced with one more aggressive. Demanding.
“I said pay your respects. Now.”
The other two guards, Spear Side and Axe Flank, grunted in agreement, trotting up to Mace Hide's side.
Stout Hoof took an unsteady step back, flinching as is flank stopped against the wheel of the apple cart behind him. Glancing around nervously, he opened his mouth to speak, but his voice had left him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.
Mace Hide took another step forward, his eyes narrowing further.
“That’s it, dirtborn.”
He growled, bending forward to reach a hoof toward the cornered colt.
“You’re coming with—“
CRACK!
The pegasai guard suddenly let out a loud whinny and stumbled backwards, blood spurting out between his hooves from his crushed snout. He collided with the other two guards, the three stallions tumbling backwards into an awkward heap.
Half in shock, Stout Hoof looked down to see his wooden combat rod fully extended from his right foreleg.
Instinct had taken over. He had struck before his mind had even registered the movement as his own.
“You disrespectful little—”
The colt's eyes widened as Mace Hide cursed, his voice markedly more nasal than it had been a moment ago. Pushing himself off the other two guards beside him, he turned his neck toward his side, searching for the handle of his weapon with his mouth.
The lead weights holding Stout Hoof in place dissolved in a rush of adrenaline.
Retracting his combat rod with a soft click, the colt backpedaled beneath the apple cart, tumbling out from beneath it just as the furious pegasus let loose with a powerful swing.
CAARUNCH!
Stout Hoof could hear the snap of wooden panels behind him, his hooves scrabbling against the cobblestone below. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that both Spear Side and Axe Flank had freed themselves from the pile as well.
Fear coursing through the colt's veins, the colt broke off into a dead sprint, tripping and tumbling through the wall of hooves and limbs in his path. He could hear more shouts behind him as ponies were pushed to either side, his pursuers paying little heed to the comfort of the crowd as they began to give chase.
Stout Hoof's hooves pounded heavily against the street beneath him. Breaking free from the crowd, he took off headlong toward the first side street he could see, his eyes frantically searching for a place to hide.
A shout of surprise rose from the crowd behind him. Glancing back, the colt could see the three pegasai take to the air, the crowd beneath shielding their eyes as their guards' powerful wings scattered up dust and debris from the street below. Their heads quickly turning in his direction, they began to fly straight for him, their armor glinting in the sunlight.
The colt let out another yelp, snapping his head back forward as the whistle of armored wings filled the air.
Ducking off into the side street, he could feel a wall of air blow past his flanks as the three guards whipped by in an initial pass.
Crunch! Shunk! Clang!
Stout Hoof could feel the hairs on his neck stand up as their weapons missed him by inches, clattering heavily against the pavement at his side.
Watching the three arc upward, he could see their narrowed gazes meet his once more, their wings turning as they prepared to swing down for a second pass.
The colt redoubled his pace, his eyes widening.
He had to find a place to hide! Somewhere! Anywhere!
Whipping his head to the side, he blinked twice as his eyes settled on their target.
Just off the intersection ahead, the colt could see a small, dark hole staring out from the base of a building, a metal grate resting against the wall at its side. The immediate area had been gated off by rope, the entrance blocked by a small sign with red lettering.
Although Stout Hoof couldn't make out the words, the opportunity the narrow tunnel beyond them presented was clear.
Escape.
Veering right, the colt zeroed in on the narrow, foal-sized opening. Already he could hear the whistle of air behind him as the aerial guardponies dove in for their second sweep.
Thirty hooves. Twenty hooves.
The colt's heart thundered in his chest.
Ten hooves. Five.
The whistle of air behind him dissolved into a screech. He could hear the grunts of the three stallions in the air above him as they reared their heads back to swing.
Now!
Propelling himself forward with all of the energy he could muster from his burning legs, Stout Hoof dove forward beneath the sign.
His shoulders and back scraping heavily against the rough stone, he tumbled headlong into darkness—the yawning void swallowing him whole.
***