//------------------------------// // Sweep the Streets I Used to Own // Story: Viva la Vida // by Tekkonair //------------------------------// Age of Rebirth Juras smiled despite himself as he once again gazed upon the citadel of Whitefall. A vast city of marble, named for the steep-sided chasm to the east, the site of the marble that went into the construction of the city. The capital of Juras’ former kingdom was ringed by a massive wall, reinforced by layers of wards renewed and strengthened by generations of the kingdom’s most powerful unicorns. Along the parapet were countless weapon emplacements, shielded by magic and housing the most destructive engines the city’s engineers could create. But by far the most impressive part of the wall was the South Gate. A truly gargantuan gateway, wide enough for twenty ponies to walk through abreast and tall enough to allow the passage of even the most massive dragons, with whom the kingdom maintained a strained, but workable, trade alliance. Though these defences were formidable, the citadel’s walls were still marred by the terrible weapons and spells unleashed by both sides in the final siege that saw him stripped of his crown and forced to flee. Even two years after the end of the siege, repairs were still underway, a legion of masons cutting and fitting stone as unicorns rewove enchantments into the fortress. Juras sighed and shook his head to dispel the thoughts as he began walking once more. Almost there, he thought, and perhaps I can atone for my crimes. It was a long shot, he knew, but what else did he have? He was shaken from his thoughts by a harsh shout. “Halt!” Shouted one of the guards, pointing their spear at Juras. “What is your purpose here stranger?” He asked. Juras sighed under his hood, before lowering it, raising his head to look the guard in the eye. There was a collective drawing of breath before the guard narrowed his eyes. “Soldiers, arrest him. You, inform the Captain that Juras has deigned to show his flea-bitten hide.” Juras didn’t resist as the guards surrounded him, forming a ring of spear-points to dissuade any escape attempt. Whilst Juras was confident, nay, certain that he could wipe the eight guards out with a single spell, that was not why he was here. It was a minute before Juras realised he wasn’t being brought inside the walls until the Captain arrived, so he elected to sit. As soon as he moved the guards surrounding him bristled, the ring of spears closing slightly until they realised he was just sitting. It was, by Juras’ best estimate, five minutes before the Captain arrived, and his heart sank slightly as he recognised who it was. Captain Lance of the Granite Shields, previously one of his most loyal knights. Lance’s lips curled in a grimace of disgust as he met the disgraced king's eyes. “I had hoped the guards were lying when they said you had showed your face again, but no such luck,” he spat on the ground. “Chain his legs and put a suppressor on his horn, I don’t want any tricks from him.” Lance turned and marched back through the gates, not sparing a glance back at his former king and commander. Juras’ shoulders slumped, allowing himself to be shackled and lead through the gates. He forced his head to rise and kept a steely gaze dead ahead of him as he was marched through the city. He barely glanced at the surrounding buildings; he didn’t need to look to know they were still being rebuilt after the devastation the siege had wrought on the city. The ponies walking the streets watched him with a mixture of shock and revulsion, the tyrant king returned and bound in chains. The closer to the palace the precession drew, the larger the crowds became, word spreading like wildfire of the former king’s return, until they finally reached the palace square, the cobbled space crammed full of ponies, the city guards clearing a path. Juras kept his gaze firmly on the palace, but he could not fail to notice the hushed whispers and hateful glares directed at him. A Pegasus, the left-side of her face pockmarked with scars of some terrible infection, alighted on the fountain in the centre of the square, perched on the head of a long-dead war hero. “Don’t you see?! The Tyrant King has been captured! Mountshead will have its vengeance!” The Pegasus cried, and Juras winced internally. That explains the scars, thought Juras, she must be a survivor of the cyst-burn plague. Of all the things Juras regretted, the artificial plague was one of the worst. He shook himself clear of the sickening memories as a cheer began in the crowd as his former subjects began celebrating the capture of the former king. Juras sighed as he was marched through the square and into the palace. A larger contingent of soldiers was waiting inside; a full three bodies of knights supported by a cadre of unicorns from the Bellum Arcana, each one a master in some aspect of the magicks of war. He was quickly flanked by the soldiers, boxed in by arcane barriers conjured by unicorns of the kingdom's Scuptae Order. Only when they were sure their security was absolute was he again forced to move, lead further into the palace and to the Royal Court, where presumably whatever pony had stepped in to take his throne was waiting. Juras was paraded in under the suspicious and hateful gaze of the dozen or so ponies that formed the Court, but he paid them no mind, focussing instead on the pony that sat, uncomfortably, in his former throne; a tall, well-muscled earth pony stallion with white fur and grey mane and tail. General Steel Aegis, who else? Steel Aegis had long been the ‘ponies’ champion’ since his commissioning. The ponies of the kingdom loved the youthful, energetic officer and his rise through the ranks had been nothing short of meteoric, displaying a natural talent for command and tactics, and had always inspired the soldiers under his command. Indeed, his talent-mark had singled him out from a young age for the military, a kite-shield motif surrounded by a battlement. That Aegis had replaced him was no great surprise, Juras doubted the populace would have accepted anyone else as their new ruler. “Juras, this is a surprise.” Said Aegis from his throne, no hint of sarcasm or scorn in his voice. It was a simple, honest statement; Aegis had never been one for ‘silvered tongues’, and was genuinely surprised to see the tyrant king in chains. “To what do we owe the…” The sentence hung in the air as Aegis struggled to find an appropriate word to fill the gap. Pleasure? He couldn't bring himself to give the thought voice, even dripping with sarcasm. “Why are you here?” He finally settled on, adopting a disapproving look as he studied Juras. The tyrant king's piebald coat was less pristine than he remembered, his once finely cut mane and tail roughly shorn with a blade, his hooves dirty and cracked. The stallion still had his warrior's build, but two years in the wilderness had left him thinner. “I have come to turn myself in and face judgement,” Juras stated with iron resolve, “I seek to atone for the sins of my past. That pony, who visited horror and pain upon his own kingdom, is no more. I do not know what turned me into that monster, but I am aware that I was, indeed, a monster. I leave it to the court to decide if I deserve the chance for redemption.” His words launched the Court into a chorus of shouts and hurled insults, calling him a beast and a liar. The noise was only silenced by a bellowed order from Aegis. “Silence yourselves! You are honoured Court members, not hysterical colts and fillies!” The Court shuffled awkwardly at that, but the anger and hate remained. “Truth-seer. Stand forth.” A cloaked equine stepped forwards from the shadows behind the throne, their entire body shrouded by robes, a hood covering their head. The Truth-seers were a mysterious Order of ponies, who all shared the same power. Under the gaze of such an equine, no lies could be uttered, and no truths could be concealed. The robes of the Order were lined with runes, runes of warding, binding and identification. The runes protected the pony from any attack a defendant could unleash in the short time it would take for the guards to disable them, and the identification runes meant that no pony not of the Order could wear the robes without being crushed to death in their embrace. The Truth-seer stood in front of Juras, and sapphire eyes bore into his. Ice ran down his spine under that piercing gaze, and he felt every truth he knew surge forwards, just waiting for the question that would set them free. “First question,” began Aegis, clearing his throat for attention, “what is your name?” “Juras Bastillion, second of his name. Former ruler of the Kingdom of Whitefall.” Juras found himself forced to speak, under the compulsion of the Truth-seer as he was. “Why have you come here?” “To atone for my sins and give myself unto your judgement.” “Do you regret what you are responsible for?” “With all my heart. If I could go back and take it back, even if it required my death, I would do it in a heartbeat.” This last answer sent an angry mutter through the Court. “Do you know what made you turn from the benevolent king you once were into the… Monster that threw his kingdom into tyranny?” “I do not. I have no idea what made me into that beast.” Juras answered, and a wave of relief flowed through him, internally grateful he had not been lying to himself. “The Truth-seer has clearly failed!” Came the outraged cry of one of the Court members. The Truth-seer’s gaze immediately snapped to the Court member. “Do you truly believe that?” Asked Aegis. “N-No." The pony struggled, trying not to answer. "I-I am simply furious over Juras’ actions during his age of tyranny and I want to see him executed.” Said the Court member, forced to speak the truth by the equine before him. Aegis nodded, and the Truth-seer released the pony from their penetrating glare. “Truth-seer, your services are no longer required.” The Truth-seer bowed to Aegis and disappeared once more into the shadows as Aegis considered Juras. “You are clearly a changed stallion, Juras. However, your crimes cannot be forgotten. You have done far too much harm to this kingdom to simply allow you to walk away. You will be sentenced, as much as it pains me to do so to a pony I once considered a friend, and your sins will be punished." Juras nodded once, closing his eyes in anticipation of his sentence. "I propose this sentence to the Court; Juras enters into our service, performing tasks we require of him until such a time we deem him redeemed. He will do anything we require of him, no matter how menial, no matter how dangerous. He will find redemption through service, or through death. Does this please the Court?” A murmur went around, and the vote was cast. Eight members of the Court agreed to the sentence, whilst another five tried to push for immediate execution, the rest abstaining. “It is decided." Steel Aegis stood to deliver his sentence. "Juras Bastillion, you are hereby sentenced to servitude of the Court. You will perform any task the Court requires of you, until such a time we decide you have served your punishment.” Juras nodded, thankful he was being given the chance to redeem himself. “Your first task is to report to Captain Shield to assist in repairs to the city’s defences. You are dismissed." Juras bowed to Aegis, before allowing the guards to escort him out of the palace. So begins my path to retribution. Aegis and the Court have given me a chance, but I doubt the kingdom will. I shall let my work speak for me, my words will not convince them.