//------------------------------// // Prologue // Story: Forging Steel // by Hopeless Appraisal //------------------------------// The sun peeked out over the treetops of the hayseed forest, the beginnings of a bright summer's morning on the farthest outskirts of Baltimare. Sprawling fields and orchards glistened with thousands of tiny dewdrops as the sun's rays stretched out over miles of forest and farmland. The smell of fresh, oat pancakes wafted from a solitary farmhouse near the forest's edge. It was surrounded by several acres of unplowed fields and a small apple orchard. A young earth pony mare could be seen making breakfast through the open kitchen window. Sunrise Apple took the padded handle of the frying pan in her mouth and expertly flipped the two golden pancakes it contained, a skill born of many such mornings. Her namesake amber mane was tied back with a light green ribbon that matched her coat, keeping it clear of the open flame. Her eyes were the warm color of cinnamon baked apples and they sparkled with happiness as she spotted the first morning rays enter the room. She quickly returned the pan to the stove, and after checking the heat she trotted over to the kitchen window and threw it wide open. Despite her family's adamant discomfort that she and her husband had built so close to the forest's edge, she wouldn't trade this view for anything. Their little orchard and the seemingly endless forest beyond it, the smell of cool morning air, and the sun's warmth on her cheeks were undiluted tranquility. To her, there was nothing quite so breathtaking as first light in the morning. Being farm-class earth ponies, she and her husband were well accustomed to rising before dawn each day in order to get all their work done, and Sunrise couldn't remember the last time she had missed a sunrise. As a filly, she used to get up early with her mother to help make breakfast for the family and prepare for the day. She had always kept a sharp eye out as they worked, and at the first sign of sunlight she would scamper to the window, watching in awe and delight until the sun fully cleared the horizon. Her mother would laugh and had even named her 'Sunrise' as she watched her sit there mesmerized each morning in front of the window. Smiling at the pleasant memories, Sunrise waited until the sun had cleared the treetops before leaning forward and sticking her head out of the window. Connected to the house by a shallow dirt path was a barn with a small workshop built into the side. She could see its double doors standing wide open and the low, brick chimney emitting a slow stream of smoke into the chilly morning air. She could hear the familiar sound of a hammer on iron coming from inside, and she waited for a moment until the hammering paused before raising her voice: "Anvil! Ember! Breakfast!" she called towards the shop before returning to finish setting the table. A few minutes later she heard the patter of hooves on the dirt path outside, and a dark grey earth pony, his cutie mark an anvil and hammer, entered through the door. His sandy brown mane was unkempt, and he looked as if he had gone to work straight out of bed. He was followed by a colt, about a head shorter than him and whose bed-head rivaled that of his father. He was carrying a package as his dad held the door open for him, it was wrapped neatly in simple brown paper and tied up with a ribbon and bow. "Happy birthday, Mom!" the colt exclaimed as he entered the kitchen and placed the package on the table. "Is that for me?" Sunrise asked in feigned shock, her smile egged on by his barely concealed enthusiasm. "You bet it is," her husband cut in brightly, "and so are these." He placed a small pile of colorful, and all apple themed, cards next to the package on the table before circling around to nuzzle his wife. "Happy birthday, Sunrise," he said, giving her a quick kiss. "I thought we were going to wait until tonight for the party, Anvil," she said, raising a questioning eyebrow at her husband. "I wanted to celebrate a bit while we were all here together," Anvil said, "and before Ember left for school." "We knew you would rather have it in the morning, Mom," Ember said, sticking out his tongue in annoyance. "You make getting up look like it's fun." Sunrise giggled and pulled her son into a hug. His ashy coat was a close match to his father's, and he was almost as tall as him now too, but Ember shared his mother's amber mane and eyes, much to her continuing delight since he was born. "I was surprised to find you already up, Ember," Sunset teased. "How did Anvil get you out of bed so early?" "We wanted to finish your present so we could give it to you," Ember replied, "and Dad wouldn't let me skip school." "Don't worry, buddy," Anvil chuckled through a mouthful of pancakes. He flinched at a stern look from his wife and swallowed the bite before continuing, "in a few months you'll be done with school, then you can spend all the time you want with me in the shop. How does that sound?" Ember beamed, and Anvil ruffled his son's already tangled mane with a hoof before turning back to the table. "The mailpegasus brought you these last night," Anvil said to his wife, motioning to the colorful pile of cards next to the package and flicking through them. "Looks like you got birthday wishes from family in Fillydelphia, Manehattan... and Ponyville too. I guess old Granny's still going strong as ever. She hasn't missed a single one of yours or Ember's birthdays since they moved her into care... still doesn't remember my name though." Anvil mock scowled at the offending card and Sunrise giggled. "You know she means well," Sunrise chastised, "and she has so little to do there." "We'll have to write her back, but later on tonight or Ember won't get to school on time," Anvil said. "You should open our gift now!" said Ember eagerly. Sunset smiled at their enthusiasm. "Well, okay then. Here goes." She dutifully approached the package and untied the bow with her teeth. Pushing the cheap wrapping paper aside, she gasped in delight. The paper fell away to reveal a smooth little box made of varnished wood. It was about two hooves in length and had been sanded and polished to a shine. Carved into its sides were detailed flowers that curled around each corner, and the lid was engraved with an image of an apple tree framed by a golden rising sun. "It's beautiful!" exclaimed Sunrise, admiring the detailed hoofwork. "It's a music box," Ember said excitedly. "Dad and I have been working on it for months." Sunrise opened the lid. Inside, secured to a metal plate bolted to the bottom, was a long steel comb set against a metal tube with lines of little bumps along its surface. Set beside it was a ring housing several springs and gears, all connected to a polished steel lever passing through a slot and out the side of the box. Sunrise placed her hoof on top of the lever and a series of clicks sounded as she pushed down on it lightly. After several more pushes the clicking stopped and the box's inner workings began to turn. The little nubs rotated and caught the steel teeth as they went by, singing out soft, ringing notes with each pass and weaving a calming, almost dissonant melody. Sunrise recognized the tune almost immediately as the one her own mother had sung to her each night as a filly. It was also the same one she used to sing to Ember at night when he was small. The soft melody repeated itself multiple times as the little mechanism slowly turned. "How did you do this?" she asked, mesmerized by the flow of sweet memories that accompanied the chiming sound of her childhood lullaby. "I saw a merchant showing them off at the festival last fall," Anvil said with a grin. "I figured it wouldn't be too hard to make one ourselves." "I helped Dad get the right notes while he made the box, and I helped with some of the parts, too," Ember added. Sunrise's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you, Ember. Anvil. Thank you so much!" she said, giving them each a tight hug in turn. "How about you go upstairs and get cleaned up for school, Ember," Anvil said to his son. "It's a long walk, and you don't want to be late." "Sure Dad," Ember replied and headed out of the kitchen toward the stairs, leaving his parents sitting together closely at the table. "I know it's not much, but I hope you like it," Anvil said hopefully, nodding towards the still-chiming music box on the table. "It's perfect," Sunrise said as she leaned into his neck. "I couldn't ask for a better gift." "If business had been better last year then we could afford to travel a bit like you wanted, or at least have the time and bits to throw a decent party." Anvil let his gaze fall to the floor. "You and Ember deserve better." "That's enough of that," she cut him off firmly, giving his chest a soft jab. "You are a wonderful father, Anvil. Ember admires you. He wants nothing more than to be just like you... and I couldn't be more supportive of that." She pressed her lips softly to his neck, making Anvil's heart leap in his chest. "Next year I'll be able to get those new fields cleared and planted," Anvil said, "and Ember will be big enough to help me by then. The extra produce and harvest from your trees will give us enough flexibility to throw a proper party for things like this." Sunrise pulled her husband into an embrace and looked him in the eye. "Anvil, I have everything I could ask for right here. You are very good at what you do, and business will pick up once more farmers buy up the land out here. Then we won't have to worry so much about bits, and you won't have to spend so much time traveling to and from the city for work. You will be home, that is all I want." Anvil held her close and kissed her once more. "I couldn't ask for a better mare." The two mates sat in a close embrace, relaxing in the simplicity of each other's company. The dying notes of the music box came slower and slower as the song wound to a close. From the stairs adjacent to the kitchen door, a pair of eyes watched closely from behind the low railing. Ember watched his parent's exchange, warm feelings rising in his chest. Satisfied that their special gift had gone over well, he quickly crept the rest of the way up the stairs into his room before he could be caught snooping. Anvil gave Sunrise one last kiss before standing. "I'm going to head back to the shop. There's a bent axle out there that Ember was helping me with. The job goes slower without a second pair of hooves, and I need to get it rolled back into shape before I head into town." "I'll be working the orchards once I finish cleaning up breakfast," his wife replied, "you can find me there if you need help." With that, Anvil went out the door and back to the barn, taking a few of the leftover pancakes with him. Ember mulled around his room upstairs, smoothing his mane and fishing his saddlebags out from under the bed. He would rather stay home with Mom and Dad, but they always said how important it was for him to finish school, and he only had one more year. It was hardly fair. He kept good grades, and the final year felt like it only mattered for finding work or apprenticeships, but he already knew what he wanted to do. He had always been working in the shop with his dad ever since he could remember. He was still a bit too small for the bigger jobs, but Ember loved seeing his parents happy when he did a good job. Ember grumbled as he packed books, parchment, and a few quills into the waiting saddlebags. The weekend wasn't that far away, and then he would have a few days to work and do whatever he pleased. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang from downstairs as the front door was thrown violently open and then slammed back shut. He heard his Mom yelp in surprise, and he ran out to the top of the stairs to see what was happening. A strange stallion was in the living room. He looked like he had been running a marathon and was covered with so much dirt that Ember could hardly tell what color his coat was. He wore a pair of bulging saddlebags that looked to be quite heavy and abused. He was forcibly leaning against the back of the door, panting heavily. His wide eyes darted about the room as if in search of a place to hide. "Anvil?" called his mother as she came out of the kitchen to investigate. She had been spooked by the loud noise, and she froze upon catching sight of the strange stallion blocking the door. There was silence as she eyed the stranger uneasily for a moment and the stallion struggled to catch his breath. When Sunrise spoke again her voice was stern in spite of her frightened posture. "Excuse me, but is there some way we can-" "Everyone, quiet!" the stallion cut her off, his eyes continuing to dart around the room. His erratic behavior frightened Sunrise further, and Ember could see his mother shifting her weight nervously from one hoof to another. "We would appreciate it if you left this instant. My husband is just outside and I will not let a strange stallion just stomp into my home and-" Sunrise tensed and almost bolted as the dirty stallion flung himself to his knees in front of her, but she held her ground. "Please don't send me out," he begged as he moved closer to her, "and keep your voices down." Sunset regained her posture and stood the approaching stallion down, stomping her hoof on the floor in front of him. "Get out this instant!" she shouted, turning her head back towards the kitchen and the open window. "Anvil!" The stallion panicked. "Please, please don't shout. I-I can pay," he said, reaching back and frantically yanking open one of the bulging saddlebags with his teeth. It fell to the ground in front of him and glittering gemstones of every color and hue scattered out across the floor. "Just don't send me out," he pleaded. Ember's eyes widened at the sight of the precious stones. They were enormous, far larger than any he had ever seen. His gaze was drawn to the largest ones, some of which were glowing oddly and throwing multicolored patterns across the floor. His mother stared, momentarily dumbfounded by the large pile of valuable stones that now covered her floor. "W-what-" she began, when a terrifying roar pierced the air from outside. The windows rattled as something heavy struck the ground in front of the house. There was another roar, and Ember heard his mother scream as the entire front wall of the house was ripped away. Crouched in front of the now gaping entryway, claws bared, wings held high, and its green eyes blazing with an almost insane fury, was a dragon. Its head hung high above them, a bit taller than the small, two story farmhouse. It had a long, muscular body, and its green scales might have been a beautiful sight in the morning sun had the creature not just torn the front off their home. The creature snarled when it caught sight of the stallion, and it stalked further into the wreckage. The spell of fear and shock that had gripped the room vanished in an instant. The stallion bolted for the back rooms of the house as the dragon went after him with murderous intent. It snarled and drove its claws through the wood of the doorway in his wake, attempting to grasp the fleeing pony. Had there been a back door then he might have escaped, but the stallion could only cower in the farthest corner of the room, just out of reach of the grasping claws. The dragon withdrew its foreleg from the doorway with a growl and raked its claws beneath the surrounding wall instead, shattering the bottom half of the staircase and bringing much of the second floor down on top of the hiding stallion. The wood beneath Ember's hooves groaned and cracked, and he darted back into his room crying out as the floor began to collapse beneath him. The dragon swept its claws again, and the whole room began to slump, tilting towards the living room below. Ember's hooves scrambled against the floorboards, failing to find a grip as he slid towards the door and tumbled out over the banister. He landed in a pile of splintered wood and cried out as something sharp lanced into his side. There was shouting from outside but the dragon paid it no mind, continuing to slash through the wreckage in search of the stallion with the saddlebags. All at once, the creature stiffened. It arched its back and roared to the sky in pain and fury. Ember's father had come galloping from the barn, a miniature scythe held between his teeth. Ember recognized the tool as one he had repaired himself just days before in a job for a neighbor. Having failed to draw the beast's attention, Anvil had leaped up and sunk the blade into the dragon's haunch. Anvil struggled to withdraw the blade as the dragon whipped about. It thrashed at the spot, knocking the stallion away with a foreleg, and Anvil was sent sprawling out into the yard where he landed heavily. The grey stallion stumbled and winced as he tried to get up, struggling to orient himself after the heavy blow and landing. The dragon turned and zeroed in upon its attacker. Not bothering to go any closer, it arched its neck and buried Anvil in a torrent of vicious, green flames. "Nooooo!" Sunrise screamed. She leapt from the kitchen doorway and charged the fire-breathing creature, desperately trying to draw its attention away from her husband. Wary of the noise, the dragon ceased its torrent of flames and rounded on Sunrise, who turned and darted back into the kitchen for cover as its tail swept through the room towards her. The thin walls of the kitchen did little to stop the strong, scaled appendage, and Ember heard his mother's muffled scream of pain as the dragon's tail went completely through the room in a wave of shattered wood. Sunrise's cry roused Ember from his shock as if somepony had dropped a hot coal on his flank, momentarily dispelling the instinctual fear of the giant predator before him. The pain in his side lost its bite as adrenalin began to shoot through him. It's going to kill mom and dad and I'm not doing anything! Broken wood crunched beneath the dragon's claws as it turned back towards the yard where Anvil was struggling weakly to get back to his hooves. It arched its neck, filling its throat with flames once more. Ember's eyes were drawn to the creature's haunch as it turned, where the handle of the scythe was still visible. The dragon unleashed another wave of green fire as Ember darted out from the pile of wood where he lay hidden. Ignoring the many splinters in his coat and the protesting wound in his side, Ember leapt onto the creature's back and gripped the handle of the tool between his teeth. He ripped the farm tool free, arched his back and sunk the sharp blade once again into the same spot. The dragon was at its wit's end when another bolt of searing pain cut through its already screaming haunch. It stiffened and whipped its still-blazing jaws towards the source of the pain. Drawing deeper from the magical core of its fiery belly, it wanted nothing more than to unmake these creatures that continued to aggravate it from behind. The dragon's fire took on a slightly more liquid quality as it swung in a blazing arc towards the spot where Ember clung, still biting tightly on the handle of his only weapon. The flames crashed over the colt's head, continuing on down the dragon's back and spreading along the floor beneath them. The shattered floorboards hissed and popped, not igniting, but rapidly disintegrating as the boiling flame spread until it reached a pile of glowing gemstones scattered in the debris next to a torn saddlebag. There were flashes of light as the flames came into contact with the gems. The dormant stones crumbled while the ones with glowing cores ignited and shattered, feeding sparkling tendrils of light into the gnawing flames. A hissing and crackling sound, like a lit fuse on a firecracker, filled the room as the now-sparkling inferno spread around the dragon. Ember wanted to scream with everything he had but his body would not move. He felt like something was clawing its way into his side and undoing him from the inside-out. He felt the dragon's fire ripping his body apart as the agony spread, inside and out, until all went dark. Something was wrong, the dragon knew. Its scales were not repelling the flames as they should and a terrible clawing, burning sensation was knifing its way into it's haunch. The beast snapped its flaming jaws shut, but the already swirling inferno refused to dissipate. The dragon snarled as the rebellious flames spread beneath the scales of its back, relentlessly breaking its body up into a sparkling green mist that merged with the swirling flames around it. The dragon bellowed, thrashed, and fought until the ripping pain reached the base of its skull and silenced it. A small scythe, along with several pieces of jagged wood, clattered to the floor of the shattered, burning farmhouse. All was quiet as a large cloud of sparkling green mist snaked its way out towards the forest.