//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: On the Right Path // Story: Lords of Equestria // by ZatGeneral //------------------------------// Chapter 3: On the Right Path         Steel Lance shot up from his bed, only to be greeted by the pain of his wounds. A terrible dream of fire and ash still made his body tremble and made his breathing short. Another nightmare...? He looked around the room, trying to get his bearings, his breaths hanging in the cold morning air. Barracks... I’m still in the barracks. The pain from his still healing wounds caused him to grunt a little as he slowly lowered himself back into the bed. While there were plenty of healing potions, Steel Lance gave most of his doses to his men. He didn’t consider his wounds to be nearly life threatening enough to need them. It bothered him that he was still having terrible dreams of those Fengarian cannons. They’re not that frightening lad... all they do is make a loud noise... and... and... Steel Lance couldn’t stop thinking about them. He couldn’t stop thinking about how a single volley cut down ten of his knights. The pain from his wounds started to surface again as his heart raced.         Shafts of light slowly crept through the arrowslits, illuminating the once dark barracks. Several knights groaned as the morning sun woke them from their slumber. The knights slumped out of bed, while physically in place, their minds were more than likely in the same state as Steel Lance’s. It had not been three days since the battle and they were still mentally fatigued. I wonder how many of them had nightmares like myself...         “Sir?” A knight knelt at Steel Lance’s side, he had just slipped into his under armor clothing moments before. It was Iron Plow and all his girth. “How is the wound?”         “Tolerable...” grunted Steel Lance. Light crimson stains on the bandages were signs of staunch blood.         Iron Plow cringed at the sight of the blood spots. “I’ll change your dressing for you.”         The used wool bandages itched terribly and had clumped up in places after being slept on for so long. Steel Lance couldn’t wait to be out of them.         “Alright, get up. It’s embarrassing really. My daughters liked to play healer with their dolls.”         Steel Lance pushed himself up to a seated position. “Your daughters will be fine maidens one day, Iron.” The bandages came off easily except for the spots covered in dried blood. Each time Iron Plow unfurled the bandage there, it snagged a little, pulling Steel Lance’s coat and skin. Each and every pass made Steel Lance wince.         “We wouldn’t have to do this if you would just drink a healing potion, Sir.”         “I don’t need anymore than what I’ve already taken.”         Iron Plow’s deep chuckle comforted Steel Lance somewhat. He winced again as the final layer of bandage was removed. “Your wounds are almost as stubborn as you are,” The wound was still closing but no where as deep as it once was. “its a wonder that the small dose of healing potion you took healed that much.” said Iron Plow as he soaked a rag in alcohol.         “Is that Brussian Vodka you’re pouring onto that rag?”         “Well it certainly isn’t good for drinking. My mother taught me that it’s only good for cleaning wounds. This is going to sting a bit.”         A scream of pain barely managed to escape Steel Lance’s lips. He puffed his cheeks and shut his eyes tightly to keep the scream in as Iron Plow pressed the rag against the wound.         “Oh come on, Sir. What are you? A foal fresh off his mother’s teat?”         “Shut it you artless brute...”         “You talk like a pampered noble and certainly squeal like one,” chuckled Iron Plow as he slowly applied the new dressing. Iron Plow casted a shadow on Steel Lance as he stood to his full height. “I will return with breakfast for you shortly. Don’t worry, I won’t forget the breast milk, Sir.”         “And don’t forget the salt for my wounds! Bloody dolt...” Steel Lance couldn’t help but smile as he laid down again. The cold morning air was stale with the smell of lime and mortar. A small breeze started to bring in the smell of sea and salt. You need rest lad... With a sigh of content, Steel Lance tried his best to go back to sleep. The calls of nesting sea birds and the crashing of waves was calming. Steel Lance had always wondered what the Great Western Ocean  was like. He recalled his first days at Castle Light Tower, how the smell of sea and spray seemed like heaven to him. He could never forget scaling the walls and looking as an endless expanse of deep, blue wonder. The sound of metal sabatons rattling broke the blissful memories. At first, it seemed like Iron Plow was back, but the hoof steps were too light. As they got closer, it didn’t seem like hoof steps at all. The metal articulated after each step, it had to be a Griffon’s paw. It had to be Guirbaden. Steel Lance pretended to be asleep, hoping the regal Griffon would leave him in peace. Guirbaden stopped next to Steel Lance’s bed. “Oh what this has come to...” muttered Guirbaden. The sounds of rattling sabatons started again as Guirbaden paced around the bed. “So prideful as to ‘selflessly’ give his potions to his men? Doth he know what position he has made for himself?” Guirbaden was now on Steel Lance’s left side. Steel Lance slowly moved his right arm over the side of the bed. *Tsk tsk tsk* “You really weren't ready for the Fengarians, were you not?” The sound of steel being drawn from its sheath caused Steel Lance’s heart to race. Steel Lance grabbed his rapier under the low bed frame as he heard Guirbaden’s sword sing as it cut through the air. Their steel met with a clash of sparks. When Steel Lance opened his eyes, he saw that Guirbaden’s blade was mere inches from his muzzle. “I knew you were awake,” chuckled Guirbaden as he withdrew his blade. “And if I wasn’t awake to block your strike?” “You’re not nearly stupid enough to let an armored foe kill you in your sleep. You heard me coming before I stepped into the room.” “Why are you here, my Lord?” “I can’t check on the condition of my Captain of the Guard?” Steel Lance sighed as he placed his rapier under the bed. “Normally a high born such as yourself wouldn’t care about a lowly peasant like myself...” “Not true,” Guirbaden interjected. “You defended my horribly undermanned home and castle from a Fengarian attack that was bent on capturing this fortress as a first strike against our beloved Castillia. “ Steel Lance could not bear to meet Guirbaden’s eyes. “No... We attacked, no, ambushed a Fengarian escort.” “And you regret this?” Silence was the only answer Guirbaden received. “Surely you can’t regret attacking our Kingdom’s greatest enemy since the Changeling hordes?” “It’s not that I regret attacking them... It’s that I... we.... attacked them without just reasons.” Steel Lance stared out the arrowslit at the clouded sky. “I let my personal ambitions blind me to what I was doing. I only wish I could have foreseen what had happened two days ago.” “You came to Light Tower looking for glory, a model of bravery and courage, and now that you’ve acquired the glory you so desired, you’ve come to regret it?” “It is glory based on a lie, albeit a very good one.” Guirbaden chuckled. “My good sir. Many noble families lie to gain prestige. It’s all about IF one can back up those lies.” “Then there is nothing ‘noble’ about them. How can a great house be built on a sea of lies?” “A single grain of truth in a sea of lies makes it both easy to believe and easy to accept. You fought and bled for our Kingdom and you shall be rewarded as such.” Steel Lance remained silent, reminiscing about the ‘traditions’ of his Kingdom. If Guirbaden’s words were true, then how many lies were the other great noble houses built on? How many lies would he have to tell to build his own noble house? Hoof beats on stone echoed in the hall across outside the barracks. Iron Plow returned from the kitchen with a plate of hot eggs and oranges with a cup of milk. “Thank you Iron Plow.” said Steel Lance as iron Plow set the plate on the nightstand. Iron Plow looked at Guirbaden who gave an authoritative nod. Iron Plow left the barracks, leaving Guirbaden with Steel Lance. “Eat up. You’ll need your energy, my good sir.” Steel Lance picked himself up and brought the plate to him. Breakfast in bed. Now there’s a novel idea. The eggs were pretty decent for meals fed to lowly peasant soldiers but it was the Buckzantium Oranges that amazed him. They were a mix of long lasting sweetness with the slight tang of citrus. He finished his breakfast quickly, washing it all down with the glass of milk. “Good to see your appetite was not affected.” “My hunger for ill gotten glory is though, my Lord.” “It’s a little late to renounce that ‘ill gotten’ glory.” “What do you mean, Lord Guirbaden?” said Steel Lance as he finished his glass of milk. “I’ve already sent a message to the King, commending your admirable performance.” Steel Lance gagged on the milk. “T-T-The... King?” he said coughing slightly. “Indeed. We of House Light Tower have gained considerable favor with the King over the years. His Majesty trusts us with dealing of information and what not.” “The... King?” Steel Lance’s eyes widened, his heart flew into his throat and his hands started shaking. Tales of “The Masked King” flooded Lance’s mind. Tales of victory, strength and wisdom. He remembered that the Masked King wears a golden mask molded to resemble his father, a great warrior. “Must I repeat myself?” snarked Guirbaden. “The King himself is making the journey from Castle Alabaster to congratulate your victory. ” “What exactly did you tell the King... My Lord?” “I told His Imperial Majesty that you defended Castle Light Tower after Lord Land Caster so selfishly gave you the position to seek his own personal glory. After all,” grinned Guirbaden widely, “the best way to elevate yourself if to put others down, and House Light Tower is higher than the rest.” Is that why nobles constantly push peasants into the mud?... Steel Lance turned his gaze away from Guirbaden. The concept of nobility lost its flare with him. What would he do with his own house? Would his children turn into peasant stomping overlords held aloft by the air of nobility? Would they become power hungry and end up like so many other houses? And what of the King?  Suddenly a fear gripped Steel Lance’s mind as if the cold grasp of death was upon him. “What if the King discovers this charade, my Lord?” asked Steel Lance, his voice full of fear. Guirbaden scowled at Steel Lance’s weakness. “You forget that I am invested in this ‘charade’ as well. The King will not find out and if he does...” Guirbaden leaned forward, so close  in fact, that Steel Lance could feel Guirbaden’s beak touch his coat. “I’ll find the despot who dared to challenge the word of House Light Tower, and gut him myself.” The Griffon leaned back again, regaining his regal composure. For a moment, Steel Lance saw the inner warrior in Guirbaden. He wondered what kind of fighter he was and why he gave up the steel sword for the silver tongue. “Is that understood, my good sir?” Steel Lance gave Guirbaden an assuring nod, a little frightened at the implications given to him. He turned away from the Griffon, wondering if there was anyway he could advance his family’s name without more lies and dishonor. “Excellent.” The sound of clinking glass drew Steel Lance’s gaze to the night stand. Guirbaden had set down at healing potion for him. “Now drink this. I need you presentable for His Majesty.” “Presentable?” worried Steel Lance as he recoiled back into the linen sheets. “I thought His Imperial Majesty was still on his way here.” “He is, but His Majesty will be here before the day ends. Which is exactly why I need you to be able to stand up straight and not walk around like a shambling corpse.” “Y-you mean... he’ll be here... today?” stuttered Steel Lance, “As in... in a few hours, here.. today?” “You really aren’t noble blood if you think that meeting the King is an event so high,” Guirbaden scoffed, as if it was a daily matter for him. “Regardless, you are the hero of the day and the King wishes to congratulate you all the same. So drink the potion and try not to embarrass me, my good sir. Oh, and you can find your armor at the smithy.” Guirbaden walked out of the room with his usual regality.         Steel Lance guzzled down the healing potion quickly. The blood in his veins warmed, the pain melted away as it was numbed. He slipped into his under armor clothing, cringing as he could feel the parted flesh of his wound binding and rubbing against itself. He ran down the cold stone stairwell, past the battlements and through the courtyard. Adrenaline filled his veins and excitement pulsed through his mind. The smithy was not far off, the smell of burning coal and wood led Steel Lance right to it.         “Oi! Smithy!” he called, “Guirbaden told me that you had my armor ready for me.”         “Ah! There’s the hero of Castillia!” joked the aged blacksmith. “Aye, I do have your armor. Ain’t never seen any damage like that before.” The Smithy handed Steel Lance’s armor back piece by piece. Each was shined and repaired carefully. “Do you need help putting on the armor, Sir?” Steel Lance shook his head at the Smithy. “You sure look like you need it, lad.”         The hardened leather straps of his armor would not buckle. Steel Lance’s shaking hands made this simple task far more difficult than it should have been. Come on you worthless sod! This is the King you are going to see! The King you dolt! The bloody King of all of Castillia! His hands steadied themselves only slightly, but it was enough to buckle each strap. The straps on his sabatons and greaves were the worst, his wound felt raw and tender when he had to bend over. At long last, Steel Lance was presentable, or at least he thought he was. He had taken so long that it was nearly midday. The moist afternoon air filled his lung as he breathed deeply. Lunch came to mind. Lance made a call of thanks to the Smithy before making his way to the dining hall.         The dining hall of Castle Light Tower never ceased to amaze Steel Lance. While dining hall of Castle Honeywine was placed in view of a stunning waterfall, the dining hall of Castle Light Tower is a pony made cave. There must have been at least fifty hearths fully ablaze. Twenty massive chandeliers and a hundred torch cones helped to bring light to this vast room. High above, the white light of the midday sun pierced through the dull orange of the fires through small shafts. Lance stared at this wonder of this place, only to be brought back down to earth by the call of his comrades.         “Hey hey! Did you finally leave your mother’s teat?”         “We have some breast milk for you right here!” shouted a knight as he held up a glass.         Steel Lance couldn’t help but chuckle. “It wasn’t funny when Iron Plow said it and it isn’t funny now, Yew.”         “Bah! Come! Let’s drink to Sir Lance’s health!” shouted Iron Plow as he passed a tankard to Steel Lance.         Every knight at the table raised their tankards high into the air. “To the Captain!” called out Sir Melon. The giant Earth Pony was only matched by Iron Plow.         “TO THE CAPTAIN!”         Steel Lance grabbed the tankard and raised it with his knights. He chugged all of the sweet beer inside of it and wiped the foam off of his lips to the rejoicing of his knights.         “It’s good to have you back Captain!”         “It’s good to be back.” Steel Lance sat down on the hardwood bench. “What’s there to eat?”         “Coleslaw, mashed potatoes, bread, corn and some cheese. Help yourself Captain!” said a knight as he slapped Steel Lance on his side. Steel Lance cringed and leaned over in pain.         “Please...” he groaned, “I’m still tender there...” He looked around to see his knights laughing, singing and enjoying their time. Several toasts were made to their fallen comrades who couldn’t sing with them. Aside from the painful slap, the meal was enjoyable. The food was warm and plentiful. But as Steel Lance got around to his second helping, one of the watch ponies came storming in.         “His Majesty approaches! The King is coming! The King is coming!” he shouted with cheer. Steel Lance and his knights made their way to the gates, where he could see the King's procession march towards the castle. They were a magnificent sight to behold.