//------------------------------// // In Which a Walk Is Taken // Story: Stormsinger // by Airstream //------------------------------// Serale took a deep breath, checking herself over in the mirror. Noting an errant lock of hair, she frowned, pinning it back up into her sensible bun before smoothing out the front of her long sleeved dress, ensuring the belt was secure and the fabric remained unwrinkled. She was expected downstairs in two hours to present her opinion on the matter of the guard to her mother, which was why she was getting ready to leave now, before she was expected to be anywhere at all. With luck, she would be out the front gate of the Regia before anypony was wiser for it. She grabbed a simple necklace from the box by her mirror, checking the hue of the stone against the white fabric of her attire. The stone was red, which she supposed was adequate for the task at hoof, and besides, it was one of the least ostentatious pieces of jewelry she owned. She drew a small hair clasp from the box, made of burnished bronze, her mother’s metal of choice, and fastened it securely into her mane to keep the last locks of hair up. Her mane curled naturally, but she had never seen the appeal of it, preferring to have it straightened. She lifted a cloak of dark blue fabric from the wall, fastening it around her neck. The hood would do her good in avoiding recognition if she needed it. As ideas went, it was simplicity in itself, which was why it worried her. It seemed almost too simple. She was going to visit Cobblestone today, and that was final. Her mother expected her to be in Court, which would leave her no time to uphold her promise to her friend before the thief was due to speak tomorrow, rendering her a liar. So, she would simply grab as few guards as she could, act like she was supposed to be leaving the castle, and simply walk out of the front gate. It wasn’t like she was being forced to remain in the Regia either, she reflected, as she once more smoothed out the front of her dress, more to soothe herself than to eliminate a wrinkle. She had just never had reason to leave before. She wasn’t even sure if she was forbidden to leave, all Serale knew was that her mother had expressed disapproval if the matter came out. She had never been explicitly told she was not allowed to leave the Regia. Justifications firmly in place, she left her mirror, her shoulders straightened and her head high, the very picture of regal poise and grace. Serale strode to the door of her chambers, throwing it open as she cast an eye around for guards. Seeing none, she huffed, realizing that she would need to pull them from somewhere else if she were to have an escort from the castle. She headed for the nearest public place, which was the antechamber to the throne room, knowing that there would surely be a few on duty there that would be able to accompany her on her trip. As she walked, she passed by a few maids, who merely bowed their heads in deference to her station as she passed. Serale knew most of them by name, having had most of them since she was a little filly herself, and knowing she could trust each of them to keep a secret. She returned their murmured greetings with the barest nod of her head, more out of haste than any desire to place herself above them. She passed through the west foyer, the last private part of the Regia before she was exposed to the visitors to the castle, and the room in which it was expected she entertained guests of her own when the time came. She had, thankfully, never had much use for it. The idea of sitting in a room, sipping tea and giggling over gossip, did not appeal to her in the absolute slightest. Laying a hoof on the knob of the double doors, she took another deep breath in, and before she could stop herself, pushed them wide open. She was immediately greeted by the sight of a large room, well-furnished, in which several equally well-furnished ponies sat, waiting their turns to pass through the grand doors of the Throne Hall and present their case to the ponies inside. Some of them had been sitting here for days or weeks, arriving before the Court opened and leaving after it had closed, risking forfeiture of their case if they were not present to speak their piece. A few of them raised their heads in surprise when the door opened and Serale stepped out among them. Normally, she took a more circuitous route that carried her past the crowds and into the galleries of the Hall without being too public. For her to enter the antechamber itself was a rare event. A few attempted to catch her eye, hoping to speak with her, but she busied herself with one of the guards standing by the door, preventing them from conversing with her. “Pardon me,” she asked the uniformed Pegasus stallion quietly, “But I’ve some business I need to attend to, and I shall need an escort. Is there anypony free?” The stallion was silent for a moment, thinking without letting it show on his face, and Serale had started to believe he hadn’t heard her when he spoke. “I’m not sure, Milady,” the Pegasus said. “Most of us here are required to stay at our posts. I believe your best option would be to request an escort from the Captain of the Guard. I’m sure he could have somepony for you in an hour or so.” Serale’s heart sank. She hadn’t thought about the possibility of nopony being available. Nodding her thanks to the guard, she set off down the corridor, head spinning as she thought of a way to ask for an escort without alerting her mother to her plans. If she approached Captain Roughshod, he would surely alert her mother. It was his job, after all. And much as she wanted to believe it, she couldn’t see mother allowing her to leave the castle on such short notice, especially when she was supposed to be speaking with her mother later that day on official business. So concerned was she with the predicament before her, she almost crashed into its solution head on. With a thud, she bumped headlong into a pony in uniform, who careened into the wall while she took a few dizzy steps back, catching herself before she fell. Shaking her head clear, she looked around to see who it was that she had bumped into. A well-built Earth pony stallion was resting in an alcove that thankfully no longer housed a rather expensive urn, it having been moved a few days before. He appeared to be engaged in fixing his uniform, having not seen who it was he had collided with and muttering an apology. “Sorry miss,” he said, adjusting a lieutenant’s chit on the front of his shirt, “Wasn’t looking at where I was going, I’m new and got a bit lost…” He trailed off on seeing who it was he had, in fact, collided with. His eyes widened, and the color left his face, fading it from grey to almost-white. He sank to one knee, averting his eyes immediately. “My apologies, Milady Serale,” he said, “I didn’t realize…I wasn’t looking…” Serale straightened up. “It’s quite alright, Lieutenant,” she said, her voice strong and steady. “I wasn’t paying my path much mind as it was. You may rise.” The young stallion did so, still keeping his eyes carefully averted. “My sincerest apologies, Lady Serale. The fault truly rests with me, I shouldn’t have been wandering as I was.” Serale rolled her eyes. “You are not at fault. We both were distracted, there is nothing to be ashamed of there...” She looked more closely at the lieutenant. “Vino?” she asked. “Vino Hedera? Is that you?” The stallion shuffled his hooves nervously. “Yes, Milady Serale.” “What are you doing here?” she asked. “In uniform, no less? I thought you were going to be taking over your father’s estate!” “My stepmother has the situation well in hoof,” he replied. “I’ve got time for a brief tour of duty before I need to resume my role as the head of the family. I was awarded a commission in the Court Guard. I just arrived yesterday.” An idea occurred to Serale. “You said you’re assigned to the Court Guard? Where?” “Wherever I’m needed,” Vino replied, “For however long I’m needed.” A smile spread over Serale’s lips. “Excellent. Are you doing anything now?” Vino’s voice grew wary. “No, Milady. I was actually familiarizing myself with the layout of the castle, I don’t begin my official duties for a few more days.” “Wonderful,” Serale said triumphantly, “Then I’ll be enlisting your help. I need an escort that I can trust to be discrete and competent, and that’s going to be you.” Vino’s puzzlement was obvious. “Milady? Why don’t you request an escort from the Captain?” “Because I don’t have the time or inclination to do so, Lieutenant,” Serale said, “And you’re standing here, in uniform, without any duties to occupy your time. I’ve work for you to do. Are you armed?” Vino nodded, showing her the bladeband around his foreleg. “Then we’re off!” Serale said. “I hope you’ve learned how to use that, Vino. Or should I call you Sir Vino now?” “Whatever you like, Milady,” Vino said. “But can I ask why you need me to accompany you?” Serale turned and began walking back down the corridor, Vino following like a cowed spaniel on a lead. She turned to regard the baffled knight behind her. “We’re going for a walk,” she said, “To visit a friend, and catch up along the way.” She noticed the stallion lagging behind. “Come along!” she called, “We’ve got a fair distance to cover!” “Lady Serale,” Vino asked quietly as they passed through the main gate, out into the street beyond, “Pardon my asking, but who, exactly, are we going to visit?” “A friend of mine that I met on my trip home,” Serale replied smoothly, “Who is currently being detained for theft, among other things.” “And you need me to protect you?” vino asked, curiously. Serale smiled. “Hardly,” she said, “I do, however, require an escort when I leave the Regia. And as my mother has some legitimate concerns regarding my safety, I need a guard who can be discrete.” Vino’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you mean to say that you aren’t supposed to have left the palace?” he asked. Serale shrugged. “I was never explicitly forbidden from leaving,” she said. “But you were never given permission,” Vino said. “Not in as many words, no,” Serale replied. Vino stopped in his tracks. “We’re going back,” he said. “No we aren’t,” Serale said, “ I made a promise to the pony we are going to visit, and I intend to see the promise kept.” “Lady Serale,” Vino pleaded, “We must go back! You could be in danger!” Serale continued to walk. “This didn’t seem to be an issue when we were leaving the palace,” she said, “I wonder why?” “Because I assumed you had a plan!” Vino exclaimed, “And your mother’s blessing!” “I do have a plan,” Serale replied, “Walk to where she is being kept, visiting with her briefly, and going back home. I would prefer it if you were there as an escort, but it isn’t necessary.” “I have to alert the guards,” Vino said, “You’re the Lady’s daughter, for Luna’s sake! You can’t simply walk down the middle of the street in broad daylight with one guard and no plan!” Serale looked back over her shoulder. “You could do that,” she said, “But that leaves me walking down the street with no escort for who know how long?” She continued to walk, Vino close behind her. “Your safest option is to remain by my side and keep close to me, which incidentally is my safest option. I wouldn’t worry about retribution, you’ll have my full support. You followed an order and did what you thought was right, Sir Hedera. It’s hardly your fault I took advantage of that.” Vino remained close, realizing that she was, in fact, correct. And just as precocious as she had been when he had left for his training as a squire, during the few times he had seen her. “It’s been quite a while since we’ve spoken, Vino,” she said. “How have you been?” Vino chose to say nothing. Serale Everstar might be able to command his obedience, but she could not command him to carry on a conversation with her. He would remain silent until such time as he could be relieved, and only then would he give a deposition to the Captain, and then avoid Serale like the plague. “Are you giving me the silent treatment?” Serale said. “I must admit, that’s something I’m not used to. The last time somepony refused to speak to me was…actually, that was usually me. When I was eight.” Vino remembered that. It had been the last party he attended before leaving home at eleven. Serale Everstar had just turned eight years old, and a party had been thrown for the occasion. She had spent the entire thing refusing to socialize with any of her party guests, choosing instead to remain buried in a book for the entire event. The party had been something of a disaster. “Do you recall which way the South Armory is?” she asked him. “The House is near there, but I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with the streets.” Vino was, in fact, familiar with the route to the Armory. He had passed it on the way up to the Regia. He indicated a side road. “That way, Lady Serale,” he said. He shut his mouth directly after speaking, refusing to give her the satisfaction of hearing him speak. Serale eyed him amusedly before shaking her head and crossing the street, Vino following close behind. She looked around as she did so, noting a curious lack of pedestrian traffic. The streets should have been full of ponies coming and going from the Regia, but aside from her and Vino, there were hardly any ponies at all on the thoroughfare, lending the scene a certain surreal feeling. “Where is everypony?” she asked confusedly. “Isn’t this the main entrance to the castle? I thought this route was supposed to be busy.” “The security around the Regia has been tightened,” Vino replied. “Something to do with an incident in Crescent City.” “Mother…” Serale muttered. Of course her mother had tightened security around the Regia. It was only logical. Even still, it seemed a little extreme. “Pardon, Lady Serale?” Vino asked. “Did you say something?” Serale shook her head. “Pay it no mind. Although I am starting to regret the idea of needing an escort. If the entire route to my destination is going to be this barren, I hardly need protection.” The two of them walked in less than companionable silence for a while, each refusing to speak for different reasons. Serale was only now beginning to see how wide her mother was casting the net in order to look for the group that had made an attempt on her life. If her mother was worried enough to order traffic to her own seat of power choked, to refuse the simple passage of ponies near the walls of the Regia, shouldn’t she be taking the threat just as seriously? She glanced over her shoulder at Vino, whose face was impassive still, undoubtedly still angry over her taking advantage of his good nature and trusting disposition. It would not be the first time she had done so, nor would she have been the first to do so. He wasn’t exactly bright at the best of times. And he was her only protector if something were to go wrong. The thought was less than comforting. Vino was faring little better. Whatever Lady Serale was up to, she was doing it without the blessing of her mother, perhaps even in defiance of her wishes. Not only was this going to cause a headache for him once it was discovered that she was missing, it also left her open to potential attack from a threat he couldn’t combat. She was surely proficient enough in magic herself to defeat any serious threat, but that only meant that the things she could not overcome were things he would certainly have difficulty with. The two ponies continued their sedate pace now that Serale was sure they would not be stopped and sent to the palace. She was, of course, doing this to visit Cobblestone, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to enjoy every moment of time spent away from the Regia. Before leaving, she had never had much opportunity to simply walk around outside of the palace, and she would certainly be taking advantage of the opportunity as it stood. Serale shook her head at her audacity. Her mother clearly had her reasons for keeping her in the Regia, and on the surface, she agreed with her mother’s motives entirely. It was only logical for her to be kept safe when faced with a deficiency such as hers, especially in light of certain events. Still, some part of her rankled at the idea of being confined to the palace once more, especially after she was allowed to leave and being able to see so much of the world beyond! “Vino?” she asked. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you a question?” The stallion said nothing, choosing instead to plod along in silence next to her. “You’ve lived in the city most of your life, correct? At your family’s House?” A moment passed before the stallion responded. “Yes. Why do you ask?” “It just occurred to me,” she replied, “Have you ever actually visited the outskirts of the city, the parts nearest the walls? I know most nobles live nearer to the palace than the outside of the city.” Vino’s eyebrows furrowed. “No. Why would I? There’s nothing there that we can’t get close to the palace, and besides, a lot of the city’s unsafe for nobles.” “It’s strange. I’ve lived here all my life, same as you, and I hardly know a thing about Starfall itself. I don’t know anything about the ponies that live here, or what they’re like, or how they live. All I’ve ever gotten is census data and history books.” “I was told that the only important parts of the city were the Guilds and courts, because that’s where ponies had their voice,” Vino said. “I’m sure if you asked your mother, she could arrange a tour of the Guilds for you. And most of the important cases from the courts go to Lady Everstar anyway.” “But that’s only a part of it,” Serale said. “The Guilds and courts are important. But so are the dress shops and fruit stalls and schoolhouses, and all of the ponies that use them. Be honest. Outside of a Guild, how many common ponies do you know personally?” “None,” Vino said immediately. “Not one.” Serale nodded excitedly. “Exactly,” she said, “So how can we, the ones who interpret the laws and lay down taxes, know about what ponies want? Mother always told me that ruling meant serving ponies just as much as they served you, and that the reasons we made choices for ponies is because we had been chosen to be good ponies, that we had earned the trust of those supposedly beneath us.” “What are you getting at?” Vino asked. “This pony we’re visiting,” Serale said, “She’s about as common as they come. And she’s exactly the kind of pony we need to be helping, in any way we can. The society my mother set up failed her in every possible way. No family, no schooling, no prospects, the only reason she attempted theft was to keep her and the few friends she had alive.” They turned down a wide avenue, seeing at last a few more ponies on the street, wandering around on their business. Serale continued. “And despite all of that, she’s good, and decent, and if she were given the opportunity, she could be kind. The only problem is, she’s never been given that opportunity.” They were close to the house now, it was only a few streets away. Vino considered what Serale was saying. It was true that he had never personally befriended anypony who could be considered “common”, just as it was true that the pony they were visiting was in fact a criminal. Frankly, he couldn’t see much of a reason why she would risk the wrath of her mother to visit a common thief. He supposed he would find out once they- “We’ve arrived,” Serale said. “This is the place.” Vino was snapped out of his reverie, and looked up at the rather plain brick building across the road, protected by a high brick wall broken only by a wrought iron gate. Even from the road, he could almost see the enchantments hanging heavy in the air, causing the branches on the trees inside the fence to rustle in a nonexistent breeze. The windows were set into the bricks directly, and even the wooden door looked incredibly solid beneath its white paint. Of course, this building could have been mistaken for the home of a particularly security-conscious noble or mage, had it not been for the two guards standing in front of the gate. Serale fixed a smile on her face before crossing the road, Vino in tow. She nodded to one of the guards as she pulled up short of the gate. “Good morning,” she said, “I’ve come to speak with Miss Cobblestone. Is she available?” “Just woke up an hour ago,” one of the guards said, “Should be finished with breakfast. I imagine your company will be appreciated, Lady Serale, she’s missed you.” It occurred to Vino that there was no way for the guard to have known this unless Cobblestone was under incredibly close surveillance. “Might I go inside?” Serale asked sweetly. “I’m afraid I’ve plans this afternoon, so I would like to speak with her as soon as possible in order to maximize time.” The guard nodded. “You’re welcome inside, Lady Serale,” he indicated Vino. “He, however, is not.” Serale turned to Vino, her face apologetic. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting, Vino?” she asked. “I’ll ask them to send somepony to relieve you once I get inside.” “No need, Milady,” the guard said, tapping a crystal set into the wall, “There’s a café down the street where he can wait.” Serale flashed a grin. “Wonderful,” she said. “If you wouldn’t mind, Vino? I’ll only be an hour or two.” Vino bowed stiffly. “I’ll be here, Serale.” The gate opened, and Serale stepped through. “See you soon, Vino!” she called. It was only after she had begun walking down the path to the front door and Vino had reluctantly headed for the supposed café that he realized he had not brought any money with him. Thorn was a simple pony with simple needs, and he met those needs as best he could. He needed food, so he took it. He needed money, so he took that, too. He needed the occasional release, and so if he found a pretty enough mare, he took her. Whether or not she wanted the taking. He spent the majority of his time in a certain large park near the district of Westgate, which, as could be inferred from the title, was located near the westernmost gate of the city. It was a nice enough place, if one lived simply like Thorn. There was a river with water, and it ran clean through the park, pollutants filtered out by means of magic. There were plenty of places to sleep if one knew the park like he did, and those places to sleep also meant places to hide, which was an unfortunate necessity on occasion, as his activities did tend to attract the wrong sort of attention, both from the authorities and others. On this particular morning, as most mornings, Thorn was loitering by the riverbank and hoping for breakfast to wander by. He had spent the past hours sleeping off the effects of a hangover gotten from coin that was certainly not his own, brought about by very cheap gin. A quick dip in the river had been enough to clear the cobwebs of sleep from his head and served to cause his stomach to rumble loudly. Thorn was a big pony, one might even go so far as to call him huge, his size a tremendous advantage when it came to intimidation, and he ate accordingly. He was in luck, he thought. There, from his vantage point in the trees, was a young unicorn mare walking alone along the path, carrying with her a curious bag that appeared to be woven from wicker, grass, and other bits and bobs of plant matter. The bag didn’t concern him. The contents, however, did. Apples, beautiful fruit like nothing he had seen before, were contained in that bag. They almost seemed to glow and shimmer in the early morning light, almost possessing light of their own. Thorn’s stomach growled with hunger, and he leapt from the trees almost without realizing that he was doing so. The mare took a step back before smiling at him brightly. Her features were finely formed, almost sharp in composition but not quite, and the solitary ear he could see through her thick, curly red mane tapered to a fine point like that of a bat. It was difficult to guess her age, she could have been anywhere from thirteen years old to thirty, and most distinctively of all, she was absolutely covered in tattooed bands around her neck and hooves, intricate and tangled lines of ink. “Good morn, sirrah!” she chirped, her voice a clear and rolling brogue. “You nearly gave me a fright, leaping from the trees like that!” Thorn found himself staring at her mouth. He had almost been sure that her teeth came to points, but when he looked closely, they had seemed to vanish. He shook his head, instead focusing on the bag by her side. “Those’re pretty apples, girl. You get them near here?” “Nay, I’ve brought them from home, far and away from here,” she said. “To keep me provisioned on my search. Prithee, couldst thou render me aid?” Thorn frowned. “The buck you sayin’, girl? Y’ sound like one o’ them actors in a play. You an actor?” The mare’s eyes lit up. “Would that I was, sir! I should dearly love to be a minstrel. I lack the gift, however. Nay, sir, my name is Lea mac Baobhan mac Niamh du Feinan, and I have been given leave to travel in search of my companion! Wouldst thou have seen a black tom pass this way? He answers to Hob, though mayhap he did change it. He’s a flighty sort.” Thorn’s temper grew short. He had not the slightest idea what the strange mare in front of him was saying, but he knew that for some reason, she wasn’t afraid of him. He growled, leaning forward. “Gimme the apples, girlie, and I won’t hurt you,” he said, towering over the slip of a mare. She took another step back. “Fie, sir! If thou doest steal these victuals of mine, then what will be left for me?” “Not my problem,” he grumbled. “Give ‘em over.” Her eyes narrowed. “Thour’t naught but a coward and brigand!” she exclaimed. “Stand and deliver thy name, ruffian!” Thorn made a grab for the basket, but he must have misjudged the distance, because his hoof fell far short of the mark, though the mare didn’t appear to have moved at all. His grumble turned into a snarl. “I’ve had about enough games!” he roared. “Hoof ‘em over, or you’ll regret it!” “I conjure thee, cease your attempts!” the mare said. “Give over thy name, and let us not quarrel!” Thorn rushed the mare, and was once more perplexed to find that she was not standing precisely where he thought she was. He stomped a hoof in frustration, leaving a perfectly circular impression in the earth. “Girl, when I’m through with you, if yours isn’t the sorriest flank in Starfall, it’ll certainly be the sorest!” he howled. The air around the mare seemed to fall still. Her gaze became predatory, and the sharpness of her fine features became much more apparent. When she spoke, it was around delicate fangs, and the air around her smelled of fresh rain, growing plants, and something faintly unpleasant. “Thou overblown, underdeveloped, dirt-rutting scoundrel! Tempt me not to chastise you, lecherous dog! Cease thy efforts and give your name, or find your punishment more severe than you might think!” she cried. “I conjure thee for the third time, give your name!” Thorn squared off with her, his eyes narrowed. “My name’s Thorn, you bitch,” he said, “And I’m gonna break you in half!” “Thorn you are in name and nature!” she cried. “And I find it only fitting that you wear your name with pride!” Her horn flashed, and a bolt of pale green light soared forth, hitting Thorn directly in the chest. Thorn flinched, expecting force or fire, but instead, the light skittered across his front, causing his hair to stand on end but otherwise leaving him unharmed. “Long may you stand and tall may you grow, o Thorn by the path!” the mare said, walking away without a thought. Thorn attempted to pursue her, but was perplexed to find that his hooves seemed to be fixed to the ground. Glancing down, his eyes widened. Creeping up his hooves like the tide were small sprouts, almost like saplings. He attempted to scream, but could not. The sprigs of growth shot up around his body, pressing in tighter and tighter around him as they fused into a single growth. Thorn felt the blood in his veins thicken and freeze, replaced by sap. He felt his bones become heartwood, his muscles the springy outerwood, his coat to thorns. Around him grew the tree, branches spreading wide, leaves gleaming in the morning light, roots anchoring firmly to the ground. The mare, Leanan mac Baobhan mac Niamh du Feinan, watched her handiwork from the path with an approving nod. The thorn tree had grown strong and tall, she noticed. At the very least, Thorn would stand for a long while, giving shade and shelter to those who needed it, instead of taking from them what was rightfully theirs. Turning away, she began to search the park for her own lost cat. “Here, puss!” she called softly. “Come along! Here, puss!”