//------------------------------// // 2. The Alicorn Errant: Part 3. Poneva // Story: The Wanderer of the North // by Alaxsxaq //------------------------------// 2. The Alicorn Errant: Part 3. Poneva It was barely light out when they had left. With little food in their stomachs and a wagon full of freshly-cut timbers behind them a tall white alicorn and her new earth pony friend earnestly set out for the city of Poneva. Travel was not a preferred pastime in this uncertain age; brigands and under-maintained roads infested the ancient trade routes that once bound the old Kingdom of Equestria together. Especially in winter, when drifts covered the beaten and worn cobble on the ways. Most ponies could traverse the projected twenty or so miles in a few hours―at full gallop. Couriers however were typically pegasi, who could cover vast distances in a matter of days. One legend spoke of a particularly determined messenger who crossed the entire breadth of the known world, from the heaven-piercing peaks of the west to the blue sea eastwards, in one day. The tale further states that as the pegasus flew by, onlookers saw her before they heard the sound she made in her wake. This was fanciful nonsense to most, though. But Nikóleva was hitched up to a heavy wagon full of even heavier goods. A brisk pace was the best she could do so encumbered. And as consequence, the pair would not arrive at the gates of the King's City until well into the afternoon. In the meantime, the two might enjoy the surroundings. Here in the North, weather was seldom directed and nature was mostly left to its own devices; the population was far too small and sparse. This attitude was alien and downright terrifying to the ponies further south, where an untamed wood called the "Everfree" permeated their deepest nightmares. The forests along the snow-dusted path fortunately were not so foreboding. Their brilliant emerald conifers commanded towering majesty over the road, providing a natural barricade from the outside world. Evergreen’s own land was located within an acreage of dense trees, apart from most other ponies; just as he preferred. But even so, a trail had been long cleared where a simple dirt lane snaked through into more populated areas. A mile or two down the road, the trees became more spread out until they ended abruptly. At first, Nikóleva remarked the quaint hovels dotting the hills beside the road, no doubt reigning over the fields unable to be plowed during the Winter. However, as she and Evergreen continued on, larger domiciles came into view. One in particular was a fair distance from the road and all but dwarfed the other homes. It was difficult for the alicorn to accurately tell what it looked like exactly, but this Mansion certainly dominated the immediate countryside. Still further, just a couple hundred yards from the mansion was a cluster of plain buildings, all placed beside a small frozen stream. Nikóleva was ill-traveled and even more ignorant of how others lived; why was that one house so much larger than the others? “Evergreen, if I may ask, what is this place? Can we sell timbers here?” she asked, her vision still fixed on the village. “I’ve sold what I can to the Lord of the Manor already. What more he needs his serfs can harvest. Everypony else has neither the money nor the freedom for wood. Freelanders find more luck in towns and cities; Poneva is the closest one.” “You’ve said ‘freelander’ several times before. What taboo does your culture assign to this word?” “I know little of where you come from, Nikól. But I think it is very different from this land. Most ponies do not own the land they work. Their lords grant it to them in exchange for a portion of their harvest and if need be service in their wars. We call them serfs, and they cannot leave without their lord’s permission. A few ponies who are not noble do in fact have their own land, such as myself. “Yet many lords do not like them, believing they have right to rule ‘commoners’. Knights are sent to my home several times a month for gold or whatever they think they can take from me. This is the reason for my initial hostility towards you, friend. “After what you’ve said, I can hardly place you at fault,” she replied, holding no feelings of resentment towards her very generous host, “It disturbs me somewhat that law binds ponies to their lords.” “It is the order here. A few however might break free, as I did. I, my mother, father, and sisters were all born serfs. On a manor on the further side of Poneva. The story, as I heard it, was my father bravely defended his fellow ponies against a raid by a tribe west of the Kingdom’s borders. The King became so impressed when he heard the news that he granted my father his own land and declared him to be free. “But he did not survive, so I received the grant as his oldest child. I was just old enough then to begin working; I did not know my father well,” Evergreen finished, his voice losing enthusiasm as he spoke those last words. “Again, I grant you my condolences. I’m sure though he would be proud of what you’ve done with his gift,” she paused for a moment in desire to divert Evergreen’s attention from painful memories, “I must confess I’m rather excited to arrive at Poneva; I wonder what things I can learn there!” “Hopefully you’ll have adequate time to listen to old tales in the taverns and inns; we shall spend a day or two in the city,” the stallion announced, his mood lightened by the spirit of this young mare. For the duration of the journey, Nikóleva indeed proved pleasurable company. The entire length she demonstrated unquenchable curiosity, asking Evergreen about almost everything they came across. But he was disappointed that he could not answer all her questions. Maybe she would find her answers in Poneva. Nikóleva, though tied to a heavy wagon, still enjoyed this morning. Evergreen allowed her a time to place the sorrow and regret into the back of her mind. She was not looking to forget nor forgive herself, but rather the alicorn wanted to find something―anything at all―to delight in her darkened and lonely world. And Evergreen provided just that. Maybe it was his show of hospitality to this tall exile or his gentle yet independent disposition that appealed to her inner fire. Whichever the reason, Nikól and Evergreen both learned a little bit more about each other by the time Poneva’s stone gates came into view. The two each knew the trek had earned them a good friend, the sort found only a few precious times in a pony’s life. A few hours past midday, the road came to the top of a hill overlooking the grey stronghold of Poneva. Nestled at the foot of a sheer cliff a giant fortress seemingly melted into the walls of the mountain. Descending from the castle were large buildings steadily growing smaller as the city moved outwards from the keep before Poneva’s borders were stopped dead by an imposing wall. Evergreen continued on, desensitized to the view of the King’s city after so many journeys there. But Nikóleva couldn’t help but stand on the hill, enraptured by feelings of awe and oddly enough nostalgia. As she gazed upon the splendor of this realm, she recalled a rather distant memory: that ruined city where the old Maiëlindir brought the alicorn as a filly some fourteen years ago. What was its name? Nikóleva could not remember. But she recollected well what her late father told her about that city. No such settlement he had ventured to before compared to that seat of another, far greater Kingdom. And Poneva was beautiful and majestic in its own right. So another thought came to the mare: how grand was that ancient and forgotten city in the days it stood? A few yards later, Evergreen realized the sound of wagon wheels and hooves had stopped. Turning back he shouted at his friend, shaking her from a dazed state. “Nikól! Are you coming or not? There’s a lot more to see inside!” he joked, gesturing for her to follow. “Huh―Oh! Forgive me; I was…distracted,” she replied, galloping down the hill towards the near gate. Evergreen said nothing; just smiled as if he understood exactly what conquered her attention. A few minutes later, the two arrived at the menacing black-iron gates of Poneva. The gatehouse was proud stone, tipped with turrets. Several armored ponies walked along its upper platform while a few others stood on either side of the structure, bearing long spears and swords. Against a backdrop of banners depicting images of a crowned unicorn wielding an axe, a pony clad in steel barding and a blue-combed helmet approached Nikóleva and her vehicle. Wearing a cold stare, she inspected the contents of the wagon. “I recognize you; that lumberjack freelander. But her…she’s a queer one,” the pegasus said, a naturally cautious mare. “This…unicorn is but a friendly traveler I’ve invited to help me conduct business,” Evergreen said, “she has come a long way to catch a glimpse of such a glorious city.” “I see she wears not one but two swords about her.” The verdant stallion smiled, “My friend here is my bodyguard. Rest assured, noble Lieutenant, so long as I can sell my wares peacefully, she won’t prove troublesome.” The pegasus mare narrowed her eyes at the “unicorn” before turning back to the gate, “Very well. But I’ll be keeping a watch over you, Giant.” She raised a hoof up and shouted out to the other ponies. “Raise the gate!” Moments later the iron bars separating Poneva from the rest of the world cranked up into the recesses of the gatehouse. Evergreen proceeded first, cocking his head to summon Nikóleva. Right as the wagon was behind the gate, the iron was let down again, waiting for the next prospective entrants. “’Bodyguard’? I’m not confident how much aid I will be there…,” Nikóleva whispered to Evergreen. “I’m sure not many will cross your path, though hopefully we won’t have to find out.” Emerging from the gatehouse revealed a bustling street of various stalls and shops. Ponies with horns, wings, or neither trotted across the cobblestone wearing bags filled with great assortments of wares. As the two advanced down the street, Nikóleva observed all manners of strange and wondrous things. One pony passed by pulling a cart of exotic spices, their aroma reaching the virgin nose of the white mare. Birds of beautiful plumage sat atop wooden perches for vendors to sell as pets. A stall of mysteriously moody lighting sold bottles of liquid in every shade. There was even a charismatic stallion who breathed fire! Evergreen stopped at a clear pool of water. Nikóleva did the same and at his request unhooked herself from the wagon. Peering into the water, she noticed the glittering sheen of gold coins at the bottom. Her stallion companion then reached into his saddlebag and produced two such coins, giving one to Nikóleva. The bit in his mouth, he flicked his head and let it splash into the pool. “Go on! It’s for luck.” A bit hesitant at first, she finally levitated the coin above the water and let it drop. “Well done! Now if you excuse me…,” he then slipped into the wagon harness, “I’ve some wood to sell. We shall meet here around sunset, yes?” “You’re leaving me here alone?” Nikóleva asked, a tad concerned. “You can come too if you wish, but I thought you’d enjoy exploring Poneva while I do some much less interesting errands.” “I am not sure…I don’t know this place…” “You’re a fully-grown mare, Nikól. You’ll be fine. No doubt you can use a sword,” he smirked. She nodded shyly, and with that Evergreen continued on to a further street. Nikóleva now stood with slush-chilled feet in the middle of a cobblestone road. Unsure where to go or what to do, the mare looked around the circle of buildings surrounding the pool. It was not long before several ponies drawing carts impatiently yelled at her to move out of the way. Demurely, she galloped towards a curb. Mistakenly, Nikóleva looked behind her as she ran down the sidewalk. Blind to what was ahead of her, the alicorn collided with a low-hanging sign decorated with a small picture of an apple. With her speed, she flipped backwards and slammed the back of her head on the edge of a basket, spilling all the apples onto the wet pavement. A moment later she emerged from her daze, hastily levitated the apples off the ground, and put them back in the basket, hoping the owner hadn’t noticed. She had. “Are you daft?!” cried an elderly and quite angry earth pony mare, “Watch where you’re going!” “I’m sorry! I could help you clean them u―“ “Be gone, nuisance!” Nikóleva happily obliged. “Freak…,” the cranky old vendor muttered, rearranging the basket and its contents back to her liking. From then onwards, Nikóleva opted to maintain a low profile in this strange and crowded city. This was not an easy task for somepony who stood twice the height of most others. Pedestrians clad in garments ranging from rags to gold-embroidered robes walked past this alicorn, their looks varying just as much as the ponies themselves. Some glared with distrust and fear, hating the odd and foreign creature. By the gaze of others, Nikóleva could tell these ones admired her beauty and the opulence of Eónadin. But most simply took a quick glance at her, eyes filled with curiosity and benign wonder. Whatever the spectators thought about Nikóleva, she felt quite uncomfortable with their stares all pointed at her. Nevertheless the white mare summoned her courage and tried her best to ignore them. Besides, there were so many other things to occupy her mind. About an hour into her exploration of Poneva, Nikóleva wandered into the long avenue of the artisan’s district. On either side of the way, stalls hung more signs with such lovely images as saws, hammers, furniture, cookware, cutlery…just about all types of manufactured items ponies used in their everyday lives. At each shop, craftsponies stood at their stations engaging in their trade, whistling happy tunes or humming hearty songs. Carpenters shaped wooden items with their lathes, saws, and planers. Candlemakers dipped strings in molten vats of wax, giving the finished product to customers in exchange for a few bits. Potters spun wheels of clay, shaping the earthenware so necessary in carrying precious water. Yet at the far end of the avenue, plumes of smoke rose from stone chimneys. As Nikóleva progressed further to this end, the sound became unmistakable: smiths. Burly, soot-covered earth ponies mercilessly beat red-hot masses of metal against anvils, their smaller and younger apprentices feeding charcoal to the furnaces. Whitesmiths crafted cups and pitchers, cutlery and plates for the wealthy. Goldsmiths worked their precious metal into jewelry for the nobles and merchants who could pay heaps of bits for them. Blacksmiths forged iron tools and nails, no doubt to provide for their peers down the street. And weapons makers and armorers created equipment for the Royal Guard and the city’s levies. This place’s air was saturated with the dim of hammer strikes and the hissing of quench-water; music to Nikóleva’s ears. Here at last she reached familiar territory, knowing at least her way about an anvil and furnace. For a good while the white alicorn stopped in front of the various smiths and observed the artisans in their natural habitat. Her presence was not lost on the smiths, one of whom paused his hammering to deal with the loiterer. His true coat color was lost in the soot and grim covering his face. The stallion possessed one eye that perpetually squinted and what looked like burns on his cheek. Growling, the gruff earth pony spoke to Nikóleva, “I don’t mean to be rude, Miss. But if you aren’t looking to buy, you’re blocking the way for ponies who do.” “Forgive me. I was just captivated by your craft. Is that an axe head you’re making?” she asked with filly-like enthusiasm. “..Erm yes actually. I’m a bladesmith, if you need a weapon or cutting tool.” “Don’t you makeother things as well?” Nikóleva asked. Strangely, ponies in this city apparently did not perform a wide range of tasks, instead opting for only one. “I can; most smiths know how to. But my specialty is blades,” he declared, returning to his pounding of a steel bar. “I forged my own sword once, but I’m nowhere near as skilled as you,” Nikóleva then drew her plain sword. Some ponies including the smith took a step back, unsure what the mare was going to do with such a long weapon. Blatantly ignorant of the customs in Poneva, she did not realize it was generally unacceptable to draw a sword so spontaneously. But everypony’s fears were calmed when the alicorn merely set the sword down on a cleared space on the smith’s bench. The scruffy craftspony inspected the weapon, remarking the impeccable shine in the steel. He took the blade and dropped a spare piece of cloth down on the edge; it tore in half as it fell. “Don’t denigrate yourself; this is an adequate sword. Though…,” he placed the blade on his hoof and tried to balance the weapon. Luckily the stallion’s quick reflexes caught it before the sword managed to fall down, “The blade is not uniform and the balance is completely off.” He gave the sword back to its owner, handling it with respect and care. “You’ve much potential as a bladesmith, um…,” the artisan paused, unsure how to address this mare. “Nikóleva. If you please you may call me something else,” the mare replied, sheathing the sword. “’Nikóleva’, eh? Hmm…,” the stallion took a good look at this large white pony, studying her intently, “Most ponies might not be too trusting with an odd name like that. Tell me, friend, what liberty affords you leisure to smith? You’re certainly no master craftsmare, yet you do not travel with a mentor.” “From my stay in Poneva thus far I’ve taken notice that each pony engages in one craft alone, and evidently have become rather adept at it. Where I passed my fillyhood we were required to produce our own goods. My Father taught me everything he could about forging in his final days, but I see here there’s much more to learn,” the alicorn replied, seeing weapons of unparalleled quality lined upon the benches behind the stallion. “By your account, it seems to me that you’re a freelander. Good! Then I need not anypony’s permission to hire you, apart from your own,” the old smith smiled, white teeth shining through his blackened coat. “’Hire’? You mean I would help you in your shop? I’m afraid I cannot now, though I wish to say otherwise.” He grew a frown, but his eyes held understanding, “If you ever change your mind, there will always be an apprenticeship available to you.” Nikóleva acknowledged his offer with a grin, and turned away from the stall as another patron addressed the smith. Emerging from the long avenue, Nikóleva spotted the very top of a steeple rising from behind the houses of Poneva. In truth the snippet of this edifice reminded her of that grand place of worship in the ruined seat of the Alicorns. That alone aroused her interest, and she navigated as best she could around the homes and through the streets until she could see in full view the building. Honestly, she was disappointed somewhat. The temple was far smaller than the one she remembered from her youth. But at the same time, this one was made all the better and more commanding due to the presence of living ponies who still paid homage to the Most High. Or so it seemed. Before the temple lay a large cobblestone courtyard and a beautifully-sculpted fountain pouring water from the mouth of what looked like…an Alicorn! Water flowing from a rock was fascinating in itself, but the statue of a creature similar to Nikóleva gave her feelings of gladness and even perhaps…belonging. Was it truly an alicorn? It certainly looked like one; horns and wings complete with a slender and tall physique. Wasting no time, the white pony galloped through the throngs of pious ponies and ran up the steps in front of the temple’s doors. Using her magic, Nikóleva opened the oak door and crept in, revealing an interior far different from her expectations. Dozens of mares and stallions congregated before large representations of living creatures, once again in the form of alicorns. Some bowed and groveled before their marble feet, uttering quiet prayers and pleas. This temple was lively, no doubt. Yet something was missing; something felt “off”. Nowhere around the building or the far wall where the altar clearly was could Nikóleva find that symbol she wore about her neck. What did it mean, anyway? Knowing she probably wouldn’t find out the answer here, she nonetheless started forward to the statues. Gazing in awe at their skillfully-chiseled features, Nikóleva felt these effigies took on a life of their own. Each one was an alicorn, yet distinctly carved with associated symbolism. The one on the far left was a youthful and attractive mare, clearly dancing and singing merrily. She smiled, and her long flowing mane conveyed the same jovial attitude. Etched upon her flank was a tree, but a very special tree: it was crystalline, with six main branches each ending in what Nikóleva figured was a ripened fruit. To her right was another statue, this time a stallion. His appearance stood in stark contrast to his neighbor, being rigid and stoic. His body was markedly muscular and large. The stallion’s eyes were focused and calculating, but justice and honor shone from his face. He wore a helmet and barding on his back. At his feet, a stone sword rested straight up, ready to be retrieved at any moment. The mark on his flank was obscured by his own armor, much to Nikóleva’s mild disappointment. The far right side contained another female figure, but less filly-like and more parental than the first. She smiled warmly, her tender face lending the comfort of a mother’s love. Her body was much fuller and healthier than the younger statue, and her mane was also shorter. Upon her flanked three stalks of wheat were engraved. Not boring, but instead just simple. Left of this mare was yet another, but far different than the previous three effigies. Everything about her appearance was cold and gloomy. Her eyes were half-closed, giving her an “unamused” look. A marble cloak and hood covered her body, including her mark. A bit disturbing to Nikóleva, the mare looked emaciated, the bones in her legs quite visible and sunken features on her face; almost…skeletal. A mighty scythe rested against her body. Something told Nikóleva the figure would not hesitate to use it. This darker statue was the tallest of the four lesser figures, dwarfed only by the centerpiece of the temple. Looming imperiously over all ponies in the shrine, a giant stallion gazed out over the crowds. A bearded pony, his face gave the impression of a calm and wise temperament. The mere presence of this stallion demanded respect and reverence, none of it undeserved. This “Lord” wielded a tall scepter that was tipped by a six-point star. He was too far back behind the others and too high on the stone platforms for Nikóleva to see his flank. Nikóleva’s wonderment was picked up by a friendly old stallion slowing walking through the temple and speaking with other ponies. He approached the mare, having never seen her before, “Simply beautiful, are they not? The Gods’ splendor cannot be captured in stone, though the ancient sculptors did their best.” “Huh? Oh…oh yes! ‘Gods’,” she inspected the stallion, who wore a plain white robe, “I’ve heard there are stories about them. Exactly who are these statue supposed to be of?” “My child, your curiosity delights me,” he stepped towards the center statue, “As this temple’s curator, their lore rests with me. The center God is Allfather the Accordant, King of All Creation. And beside him stand his four greatest children.” He turned back to Nikóleva, “This is their temple. If you wish to pay respect to other Gods, there are shrines elsewhere in the city.” “I think I should like to know more about these particular ones. I am a stranger to this place and your ways.” At that moment, the curator noticed the pendant the mare wore, “I see… In that case, this mural might suffice.” He brought Nikóleva to a long and intricate fresco painted along the wall of the temple. The first frame depicted each of the characters identical to how they were carved. The colors were vibrant and distinctly themed for each “God”. The stallion pointed to the white-themed pony, “This is the Allfather, who was first to see the barren earth and lords over all things. Infinitely just and loving, He blesses Kings and rulers with wisdom and prudence. Each of the other four is one of his children, given dominion over part of the cosmos.” The purple pony was next, “Harmonia, his favorite daughter, represents friendship and peace. The legends say she canters merrily in the forests, singing to all creatures who have the good fortune to meet her.” The next was green, and just as fierce as his statue, “Beside her stands her twin Lionheart the Brave, who defends the throne of the Allfather and commands the host of Heaven’s armies. Naturally, brave warriors pray to him on the eve of battle that they may uphold the traditions of honor and justice. The blade he possesses is said to have been forged of iron from the sky itself and black as night.” He directed his hoof to the old fresco of a yellow mare, “She is Amberstalk, prayed to by most for good harvests.” He paused, sighing a bit, “But she is so much more. She guides and patrons mothers and wives, as well as being a good caretaker for the earth. Not a petal falls from a flower that she doesn’t know of. And this,” he announced, reaching the final dark blue pony, “Is Hellkeep, Lady of Tartarus. Amberstalk’s elder twin sister, she along with her pet Cerberus guards the gates of the Underworld. Her rule is harsh yet always fair, and she would never harm a just mortal. Ponies pray to her on the eve of their deaths, in hopes of being recognized for their virtue. She is the most righteous of the Allfather’s children, though many ponies understandably are afraid of Hellkeep.” “My goodness, my father was right…,” Nikóleva muttered to herself. Going right along the mural, she noticed another figure. It was a queer thing, looking serpentine yet mammalian as well. The head was…a pony? Topped by rear-facing horns? With a long and slithery body, the creature was completed with mismatched limbs from several different animals. “What is this? Is it of these ‘Gods’ as well?” “That, my Dear, is a fell beast. A lying, deceitful, and malicious entity who once overthrew the Gods. That is the God of Chaos, Discord the Draconequus,” The curator took a breath and continued down the mural, which gave visual aid to the story he was about to tell. “Discord is the Allfather’s brother and embodies everything dark and evil with the world. He grew jealous of the Accordant’s power and strength, and therefore tricked the King into believing that the First Ones, Gods of the Void, were escaping from Tartarus. Descending into the Pit, Allfather found out the truth, but Discord had turned the gates into fire-belching iron beasts and cast Hellkeep into the underworld, the only other God who knew the way. Soon Discord threw the cosmos into chaos, and played cruel pranks on the Gods, causing them much torment. “But Discord’s greatest fault rested with his pride. He thought he ruled Heaven undisputed, and gave no thought to the other Gods who conspired against him. Wavebreaker, God of the Seas, raised mountain-high waves and aggravated Discord. In retaliation the Draconequus turned the ocean to blood and salt. The Sea-King was gravely hurt, but Discord was distracted long enough for Lionheart to impale the serpent with his dark blade. “Amberstalk commanded a single tree to grow, which Harmonia blessed with her tears. The tree bore six fruits of immense power, and the host of Gods took them and assailed the weakened Discord. Overwhelmed, he tried to use his silver tongue to turn the Gods against one another, but to no avail. Crippled by the harmonic fruits, Discord was tortured and coerced into revealing the location of Hell. “Even in defeat though, Discord was convinced he could not be truly overthrown. He believed the Allfather had been consumed by hellfires. When they reached the vestibule of Tartarus, the Gods demanded Discord open the path. He refused thrice before in his rage Lionheart shattered the iron blockade with his sword. Then, laughing in arrogance Discord exclaimed, ‘My Brother hath been charred with black flames hither, undone by mine cunning! You’ve none to serve but I!’ “Yet at that moment, the Allfather and Hellkeep emerged from the pit, each burning unharmed with black fire. The rightful King took his scepter and stabbed Discord through his wound, throwing him into the deepest and worst parts of Tartarus. Then the Pit’s Lady flew after him, striking him a hundred times with her scythe.” The two had reached the final frame of the mural, painted in gory yet beautiful detail. The image was a dark blue pony standing at the lip of a massive pit, a giant black three-headed dog beside her. The Draconequus screamed out from a lake of fire, prodded by winged demons for what Nikóleva could only assume was eternity. It terrified the mare to the bone. “Thus Discord’s body was destroyed and his old power rent from his imprisoned shade. But as the legend goes, he managed to once again deceive. Hellkeep was tricked into letting her guard down, and Discord escaped from Tartarus; the only being, immortal or not, to do so. Now Hellkeep trusts nopony but herself and her Father.” Digesting this very old story, Nikóleva stood silent for a minute, still admiring the mural, “And does Discord roam the world now?” she finally asked. “Yes. The Gods hunt for him every day, but Discord has become even craftier, lying and deceiving mortal races to one day overthrow Allfather once again and plunge the world back into chaos.” The stallion recalled he had other duties to attend to, and began to walk off, “So the tales go. Have faith, White One. May the Gods bless you, and you are always welcome in Their house,” and as quickly as he emerged from the crowd, the temple’s curator disappeared back into the throng of pious ponies. The sun dipped as low as the cliffs Poneva was built into when Nikóleva finally emerged from the temple. She spent that time in deep thought, contemplating the story of this “Discord”. She talked to others in the sanctuary, who elaborated on finer details of these gods. The deities of Tulicëai were colorful and varied, displaying a wide range of character and personality. It struck the alicorn that the simple god she had been taught was quite dull compared to the five that stood before her. ”Lórian” had no stories, no legends, no myths that she knew of. It had no form or image she could identify with; not even a name. Lórian was just a title, an old alicorn word meaning “Glory”. Her father did not elaborate who this thing was, only that it behooved ponies to pray to It. Pondering this, Nikóleva took her first objective look at the subject. Perhaps Lórian, and all the other gods and goddesses were just superstitions, names and faces applied to forces that bore no such commonalities. This radical idea made her head spin. Perhaps somepony in time might clear the matter up for her. But now, sunset fast approaching, Nikóleva briskly trotted out of the temple and set course for the agreed rendezvous point. She was fairly certain she remembered the way. Half an hour later she did in fact reach that pool, yet Evergreen was nowhere to be found. Nikóleva had hoped to remain at the pond, content with standing idle and waiting for her friend. And for a short while this wish was respected. The mare watched passersby and vendors finish their day’s activities before retiring to whatever domicile they called their own. Soon the crowds thinned and ponies became scarcer and scarcer, until the last sunlight began to fade. By chance Nikóleva glanced in one particular direction. Down this single street she expected nothing noteworthy; certainly not what she found. There, against a tall wooden building Nikóleva spotted two ponies aggressively speaking. Curious, she quietly trotted over there; in retrospect as a voyeur, but fortunately so. For when she came to the street’s beginning, the white alicorn witnessed something quite disturbing. In the new snowfall that sunset brought, a large unicorn stallion was ingloriously striking a hapless mare. He shouted expletives and curses, denigrating the mare and bruising her with every blow. “You worthless bitch, I shall teach you to cross me!” he said, renewing his promise by a strong hoof to her cheek. Weeping in pure agony, the mare tried to crawl away. Her bloodied face and almost-broken legs shattered the heart of an anonymous white pony standing in the shadow of the building. “Please!” she pleaded in the weakest of fashions, “You’ve already taken all that I have… Let me go…my foals are hungry.” “Not everything.” he grinned, revealing vile yellow teeth. His smile reminded Nikóleva of something else, and her blood boiled even more. “I’ve ruined your pretty face; you won’t be much use to me,” he dragged her back to him and raised his hoof a final time, “Your life will serve as adequate payment.” But as he prepared to land the final strike, an emboldened mare stepped forward. Nikóleva exerted every ounce of willpower she could to not break the stallion’s neck, “Cease your attacks, villain; I warn you only once.” “No peasant orders me! Stay your tongue or your fate will be no different!” aiming for the mare’s swollen face, the stallion swung down his hoof and…stopped midair? His foreleg was cloaked in a magical yellow aura, coming from none other than that interloper. Nikóleva quickly approached the stallion, a look of raw anger in her eyes. She released his hoof from her magical grip and used her own forelegs to twist and wrench the stallion’s leg. Breaking the bone, she then bucked him hard in the chest, sending the depraved creature slamming into a stone wall. Almost unable to move, the pony called out in anguish, “Guards! Guards! I’ve been attacked by a peasant!” Nikóleva tried to help the abused mare up, but she was too injured and weak to accept the gesture. To her confusion, the alicorn noticed ponies emerging from their homes and two armor-clad ponies charge up to that wicked unicorn. He pointed a hoof at her and soon the guards threatened her with swords. “Relinquish your weapons, Giant! You’re under arrest for assaulting a Court Noble.” “I beg your pardon?!” Nikóleva responded, enraged, “He was assaulting this poor mare. She cannot stand now; I witnessed him do it!” Matters now complicated a bit, the more senior-looking guard turned to her subordinate, “Alert the Captain; I think the King might want to settle this matter himself. And fetch a physician,” the other guard, a pegasus, nodded and flew off. “You there, mare!” the Sergeant said to the crippled earth pony still writhing on the pavement, “We’ll have you treated as best we can. Would you tell us what happened?” “H…he was my landlord…and he came to collect. But he demanded…I pay him triple what was agreed upon. I am too poor, ma’am, so he beat me instead. Then this…stranger came and saved me…” the pony’s gaze creaked upwards and she flashed a smile, “Thank you.” With her strength spent, the mare finally collapsed. Nikóleva’s eyes became glossy at the sight of the dead mare. Leaning down, she spoke an old and uncomfortably familiar prayer before gently kissing her forehead. The guard’s face was stoic yet still compassionate. She then immediately seized the “Noble” and threw him onto the cobblestone. “We’ll see what the King has to say about your violence, wretched thing!” By now a large crowd had gathered around the four ponies, the ones in the very front hearing the dying words of the victim. The noble won no sympathy from them. As the crowd grew thicker and deeper, the Pegasus guard returned and saluted his superior. “Sergeant! I’ve alerted the Royal Guard! His Majesty should be here posthaste!” His words were true, for a few minutes afterwards more guards galloped down the street, bearing banners identical to the one Nikóleva had seen hanging over the gatehouse. “Make way for the King!” they ordered, and the ponies obliged by clearing a passageway. Rigidly the guards stood in formation, awaiting further commands. A simple green earth pony tethered to an empty wagon emerged from the streets of Poneva by now and noticed the vast crowd gathered for some unknown purpose. Peeking through the gaps in the ponies, he recognized a tall white pony standing beside guards and a…dead mare?? “Oh no…” he muttered, fearing the worst. Unsure of what to do, he turned around to the sight of a very opulent unicorn walking towards the commotion with a dignified poise. Using the cleared path, this stallion came with yet more guards and merged with the others already “apprehending” the criminals. All ponies he passed bowed before him while the soldiers mechanically assumed an astute stance. Nikóleva studied this stallion, who was a respectable amount taller than most others she had encountered in Poneva. Dressed in an elaborate gold-embroidered robe and tunic, he wore a golden jewel-encrusted crown atop his head. He adorned himself with an expensive pendant, anklets, and earrings. Raising a gold scepter he ordered the whole crowd to fall silent. The stallion’s brilliant crimson coat reflected well the torchlight the guards produced. He gestured to one such soldier, who stepped forward and illuminated the corpse. The stallion clearly seemed surprised and horrified, but tried his best to conceal it. “What terrible misfortune befell this poor creature? I demand an answer now,” his deep voice compelled all to obey. “Your Majesty,” the Sergeant started. “One of your Court Nobles beat her to death, so the mare’s last testament revealed. This large stranger allegedly came to her aid and injured the cur in kind,” The guard then shoved the disabled noble to the stallion’s feet. “Oh My Liege! Please forgive my transgressions…how must I atone?” the noble groveled. Levitating his scepter, the pony whom Nikóleva realized was the King of Poneva poked the noble’s chest and stared into his eyes, “Produce the truth, lest justice be miscarried. Did you kill this mare unprovoked?” “Yes My Lord, but she owed―“ “The usurer demanded rent not owed.” the Sergeant interrupted. “How dare you fabricate lies―“ “Silence! The King speaks. You’ve slain a peasant on behalf of gold; I’ve made my judgment,” the monarch then turned to the white “unicorn”, who quickly learned to bow before this stallion, “Rise, honorable pony. You deserve this murderer’s crown more than he.” Nikóleva stood up, still avoiding eye contact with the King. He however gently used his cane to lift her gaze, “It is admirable indeed to protect one’s own self, but there is no nobler action than to come to the defense of others. I hereby absolve you of guilt! Please tell me the name of so virtuous a mare.” “Yes….Your Majesty! I am Nikóleva…of the North.” she answered, laughing with relief. The King smiled and raised his scepter yet again, this time calling out to the crowd, “My People! Justice has been done this day! I bid you all return home and take rest!” the congregation of onlookers, contented, returned to their houses. The street was left empty and barren, the vendors and creatures of the night having yet to emerge. His Majesty glanced at the guards, signaling them to return to the castle keep with the convicted noble in tow. The deceased pony was respectfully lifted for proper burial. Before he left, the King addressed the white mare once more, “I hope you continue to grace my realm with your good heart, Nikóleva nor-Ulin.” Her eyes widened in disbelief, further compounded by what he did next. Using his magic, the King pulled a feather from under her cloak, “Though, it is never certain who might understand that name. It behooves your kind to remain completely disguised, Wintermail.” Without another word, before Nikóleva could stop him the Ruler of Poneva departed with his guards. Absolutely stunned, she remained motionless for a few moments. This Tulicë had spoken a tongue exclusive to her people, and seen right through her. What could he teach her about the Alicorns? And could a simple exile even win an audience with so important a pony? Even if she would never meet this stallion again, the King had bestowed upon her a new moniker. “’Wintermail’? I rather like that,” the pony said to herself. Unbeknownst to “Wintermail”, another pony had stayed behind when the crowd cleared. Pulling his cart into the middle of the way, he rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I can see you’re going to be quite troublesome.” “Evergreen!” Nikóleva exclaimed with happiness. “What were you thinking? Assaulting a court noble?! You might have gotten yourself killed!” The mare giggled with just a hint of pride, “I assure you few ponies can hope to overpower me.” “The law can,” he retorted, a disapproving look on his face, “You’re very lucky to be standing here, free of irons clasped around your ankles.” Sighing he motioned the mare over to him, “Come; I’ve procured a room at an inn not far from her. Also,” he reached into his saddlebag, producing a small cloth pouch, “Your share.” Nikóleva took the bag in her magic and inspected the contents. Several dozen small gold coins, “I…I cannot accept this. I’ve abused your generosity enough.” “This is no show of charity, Nikól. I’m paying you for your work. Keep it.” Clearly hesitant, she nevertheless put the purse into her bag, “You’ll have to show me how to use ‘money’.” “We can start tomorrow,” Evergreen then led her down the road a few blocks until reaching a large wooden building. Hanging from chains was a sign with the painted picture of a bed. The green earth pony stowed his wagon in a garage beside the entrance and went inside. His companion followed shortly after. Nodding to the clerk, Evergreen continued up a flight of stairs. Nikóleva tried her best to squeeze into the tight stairwell, almost bumping her head on the rafters at the top. Opening one of the many doors the two came into a fairly good-sized room with a simple table and bed. “I rented the biggest room they had; I hope it will be enough for you,” taking off her bag, cloak, and weapons, Nikóleva crept onto the bed. It was certainly sturdy enough, but still too short; the ends of her hind legs hung off. Blushing, she feigned complacency, “It’ll do. Thank you very much. Where will you be lodging?” “I’m afraid I could only afford one room; I’ll be sleeping on the floor,” he said as he placed a blanket on the cold wooden planks. Nikóleva was about to object until the stallion spoke again, “Please I insist you take the bed; I made you sleep on the floor in my own house. It’s the least I can do, friend.” Reluctantly accepting this gift, the mare laid her head down on the pillow, trying her best to adjust to this small bed. Alone in thought, she remembered that violent stallion. Recalling that very fresh memory she couldn’t help but writhe in anger. What fate will that vile cretin endured to atone for his sins? “I assume you must be tired, given your…struggle against that noble,” Evergreen said, his eyes closed. “It wasn’t much of a struggle,” she giggled before turning towards the stallion, “What will happen to that pony?” “More likely than not he will be executed,” Evergreen said calmly. Nikóleva however was disturbed by his response. “’Executed’? Have I condemned another pony to death?” “You’ve condemned a murderer to death. Pray for him, Nikól, for the Gods will grant him final judgment.” “I heard tales of the Gods today…of the Battle with Discord. These fantastic stories though are difficult for me to accept; I was taught different. And indeed how can your truth be my fiction? Does that poor mare endure, or has her soul been made void?” she trailed off, eyeing her pendant that suddenly became all the more puzzling. Realizing where she was, Nikóleva spoke again, “Forgive me for digressing. I’d been left with nothing but my thoughts for a long while.” “It’s good to have such thoughts; most ponies I’ve met hardly think, let alone about the world.” he gave a soft laugh, “I’ll trust the Gods, for I believe they reign, but perhaps it’s not so important whether or not the stories are true…as much as we understand what they mean.” Yawning widely, he adjusted himself on the floor, “Maybe the answer will come to you in your dreams. Good night, Nikóleva.” Smiling, the mare closed her eyes and nestled into sleep, “I think I’d like to be called…Wintermail.”