Red Pommel had too much money.
It wasn’t that he minded being wealthy, it was just that he didn’t know what to do with it all. He missed the days when he could carry his every coin in a single pouch. Sure it was easy to go hungry back then, but at least the worries weren’t nearly so heavy. Now he was drowning in gold. Spending it was like bailing water out of a sinking boat.
And it made him do stupid things. Like buying brand new suits of ceremonial armor on a whim.
“That will be three hundred gold bits, Ser Pommel.”
Red found himself staring mouth-agape at the armorer. She sat on a raised chair behind a raised counter, which almost made him feel as if he were standing trial before a judge. Only her bright expression spoiled the illusion. She was a sprightly little thing, all gleeful smiles and prone to flights of fancy. And she was smiling right that very moment, even if she didn’t realize it.
“I’m sorry, what?” He shut his jaw.
“Three hundred bits,” she repeated, levitating a sheet of paper. It was covered in figures. “Eighty and two for the gold trim, ten for the rubies, another ten for the rest of the gemstones, a hundred to cover the cost of the materials--”
“Yes, yes, okay.” He couldn’t argue with figures, even if they might be wrong. Numbers made his head spin. “I trust you, it’s just that... three hundred bits?”
“Plus a dozen in silver.” She shoved the paper under his nose. It sparkled in her magic. “Those are included right at the bottom.”
Red turned to the rack holding his new armor. She’d spent a month and a half working on it. The breastplate and pauldrons bore the crests of both Princesses, and every major piece was studded with tiny gemstones. It was undoubtedly beautiful plate, all a-gleam and heavily trimmed in gold, but... three hundred royal bits?
“Isn’t this a bit... excessive?” He bit his lip.
“Is everything not to your specifications? It matches your hair and coat so nicely, and… and I gave you a discount...” The armorer shrank down. Her eyes were wide enough to swim in.
Red stymied a bout of self-loathing. “Yes. Yes, this is perfect. Thank you, Heart Strop.”
The discount, if there existed such a thing, was paltry at best. She only offered it to ensure his continued business. It meant a great deal of distinction to have the Master Swordpony of Everfree Castle buy armor exclusively from her shop. The position was of no small prestige around the castle, even if it was currently occupied by a lowborn earth pony.
He counted out the coins one by one on the countertop. A bit was equal to one eighth of a coin, but even still he found himself staring at a mountain of gold before the counting was done. They left a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. It was an awful lot of money. His purse was left a desiccated husk.
“And the silver.” She stuffed some hair back under the scarf that restrained her mop of a mane. Her smile only grew brighter by the second.
Red spat another gold coin onto the countertop. It was stamped with Celestia’s face. Luna was relegated to silver coins, and he had no Lunas.
Heart Strop pulled a face and made sure not to touch any of the drooled-on currency when she seized it in her magic. Red wondered if she even knew what money tasted like. It all went into her enormous safe, which locked shut with a bang. A moment later she produced silver bits as change and levitated them straight into Red’s open purse.
“Would you like some help getting into your new armor?” she asked, her expression all open sincerity. She liked to speak simply, unlike most Everfree unicorns. Her family was middle-class. “I noticed you didn’t bring your squire, so...”
It was hard for Red not to cringe a little. “Ah, yes, I had to... let him go. It really wasn’t working out and--”
Heart Strop frowned. “I liked him. He was probably the best squire you’ve had yet, you know. When are you ever going to graduate one of them? They all say such mean things about you now.”
“I’m well aware of that, but they should have looked elsewhere to begin with. What I need is an assistant, not an apprentice.” Red waved his hoof. “And enough of that, I need to get to the pavilion before the tourney starts. Would you kindly lend me your horn?”
It took less than a minute for Heart Strop to clasp the padding and the plates over Red’s auburn coat. She was well-practiced in all things concerning armor. Her magic kept a dozen pieces flying all at once, each jumping into place as if they had helpful little minds of their own. Not a buckle was left unchecked. She worked her way up from his hooves, ending with the helm.
“I’ll take that.” Red tucked the helmet under one leg. He nodded. “Thank you very much, m’lady.”
Heart Strop curtsied with a grin and flung herself across the room to write a receipt. Her quill snapped to attention, then danced across a scrap of paper before it saluted and dove out of sight.
The deed was done. Three hundred gold bits spent on a whim, just like that. She’d probably cheated him, but that was the cost of doing business without an educated squire to check the figures.
Red folded the receipt into his purse and felt a little guilty when he realized that it would be thrown away by the end of the day. He really ought to keep more careful track of his money, but even this hefty purchase had only put a dent in his funds. Alas.
“Have a wonderful day at the Solstice Tournament!” Heart Strop waved him out the door. Her magic seized the sign out front and swung it around to say ‘closed.’ Every shop door in town would read the same.
The doorbell jingled behind him and all of a sudden Red Pommel was back in the not-so-open air of the streets. He took a moment to drink in the sights and sounds. Fresh bread crept up on his nose while a baker locked up the bakery. Her sign read ‘gone to tourney.’ Ponies bustled past in streams. Foals weaved through the crowd, laughing all the way. Everypony moved in the same direction: to the city gates.
Red breathed deep. His golden mane wrapped under his chin, pulled by the wind. There was song in the air, pegasi zipping back and forth over the streets and playing trumpets. Groups of ponies were singing, cavorting. A small part of him wanted to join in, to dance along with them on their way to the festivities.
Heart Strop locked the door behind her and shot past him. “Hurry up, Ser Pommel!” She shouted over the noise of the crowd. “You’ll be late!” She disappeared scarcely a moment later.
He spared a moment longer to appreciate the beautiful blue skies and the banners strung from rooftop to rooftop. Everfree was a small city, more a town wrapped around a citadel than anything, but today it was filled with colorful banners and countless ponies from all over the kingdom. The sun was shining, the breeze warm, and the smells of city life washed away by all the aromas of a holiday.
Red stood magnificent in his new armor, tall and proud with his flowing mane, golden helm under one leg and longsword buckled at his side. He could feel the eyes of the crowd drawn to him.
Ah, yes. Now he remembered why he’d spent those three hundred bits.
-- Sworn Shield’s “Everfree” journal entry --
Tall onyx towers loomed above, not black but purple as dusk. The tallest pierced the sun. Red found his eyes drawn to them.
Everfree.
A fitting name for the capital of the equine world. Erected at the command of the Sisters Alicorn, the citadel had grown continuously over the years as refugees poured in from all directions. Now, after more than a century, it stood surrounded by walls and homes as a proud testament to the sovereignty of ponykind.
A dozen towers all told commanded the skyline, dwarfed in the center by the Tower of Harmony, which stretched like a spear into the sun. It had always fascinated Red how the tower was built to cradle both sun and moon. As a feat of engineering it was one of the great wonders in the known world, and as a work of art it could not be matched. Curtain walls held safe the city, a haven to all creatures large and small, a bulwark of sanity in a land still savage with chaos. The primordial forest beyond the walls served only to magnify its supernatural majesty.
Over the years Red had witnessed many wondrous things in Everfree, from foreign emissaries to fantastical beasts, to ancient ghosts and firework displays that dazzled the mind. He’d spoken with wise deer unbent even by centuries of age, dueled with a living painting, and seen both sun and moon crown the Tower of Harmony more times than he could count.
Despite all this, at least in the swordpony’s biased opinion, the citadel could not even hope to compare to the festivities that were currently taking place just outside its walls. The hordes of ponies following the sound of trumpets certainly attested to that. Nothing matched the opening of a new royal stadium each year for this event. He loved watching as iridescent flags were strung from cloud to cloud by soaring pegasi.
The Summer Solstice Tournament was an enormous affair, an annual spectacle renowned throughout the land. Grandeur! Ponies flocked to the event from all over Equestria. Many planned months in advance for the expensive and often dangerous trip to Everfree. It was a festival of glorious chivalry -- and no small degree of violence -- lasting six days and six nights, and all of it building up to a grand finale: Come the seventh morning, on the longest day of the year, Princess Celestia would raise Her sun in a public display for all to see.
For Red Pommel it was the apogee of every year. He loved to watch his fellow knights in action. It provided a welcome break from long months of putting up with the Princesses and their antics.
He only wished he himself could participate.
Five long years. Had it really been so long? Nearly a fifth of his lifetime. Sometimes he found it hard to believe that he’d actually made it so far.
Had he really been just a simple farmer’s colt once? He shook the bits in his purse and wondered, not for the first time, if this was all a dream.
But no, the title was his. That fact was undeniable. He’d fought and paid for it in his own blood. Now he would have to live up to it.
Red turned away from the towers and stuffed his purse down into his breastplate. He donned his gilded helm and secured the sword hanging at his flank. When he trotted through the city’s high gates, the crowd flowed around him.
The stadium stood a few hundred yards outside the city. It had been erected only a week before. High grandstands flanked it on both sides down its length, with pavilions at either end. The larger pavilion was three stories tall, reserved for nobility and the Princesses, while the smaller was made up mostly of awnings. Tents surrounded the whole structure, many stretching down the road and into the forest. It became almost a miniature city during the week of the Solstice.
Streams of ponies swarmed everywhere, steadily filling up the stands. Most were poor, ragged and drab. Their eyes were everywhere -- on the city walls, on the Tower of Harmony, on the hundreds of colorful flags snapping in the breeze. But most of all their eyes were on the gold-armored knight that walked among them.
They recognized him, he knew. Some had even been there, witnessed that victory those five years ago. He heard his name, a whisper in the collective voice of the crowd. They spoke of his feats, of his awe-inspiring skill. It was flattering, of course. He could feel the fame and attention going straight to his head. He let it. And why not? He’d earned it.
Squads of Royal Guards patrolled around the stadium, their armor reflecting dully in the magelights strung up beneath the stands. They directed traffic and manned checkpoints, searching the occasional peasant. A few of the guards saluted Red as he passed. He knew most of them, by face if not by name, and they knew him. Even with the illusion spells woven into their armor he could tell them apart at a glance.
He gave a few nods in their direction, noting the dark circles under their eyes and the stubble of unshaven whiskers, before he split off from the crowd.
If the halls beneath the stands were crowded, the inner sanctum was packed to the brim. Here beneath the royal pavilion bustled hundreds of ponies of all shapes and sizes. They swarmed through a maze of tents and flags. This was the heart of the tournament, the staging area for every event to come. It was easy to see the inner workings of court politics here. Red could find no end of amusement in such a place.
Knights of every color clanked about to the fanfare of trumpets. Squires and pages bustled after them, laden with bolts of cloth and stacks of weaponry. Noble ponies strutted in the margins and conversed in small, formal groups away from the bustle. Unicorn horns sprouted from nearly every head, though a number of knights sported armored wings instead. Earth ponies were servants here. There were plenty of those, but they stayed out of sight.
While not readily apparent at first, there were clear lines drawn between the brightly colored tents, demarcating various camps. Each was a territory unto itself, strewn with banners and sigils, where knights and lords of similar livery gathered to glare at their rivals from a safe distance. Perhaps the largest two belonged to the Order of Night and Day, headquartered here in Everfree, and the Knightly Order of Her Sun, located in distant Canterlot. Their sprawling tents were large enough to warrant skeletons of scaffolding in addition to being hung from the rafters.
There were other factions as well: the Knights of Truth who wore nothing but white, the Didactic Order with all their books, even the Knights Exemplar who brandished swords without hilts and shields without form. All swore fealty to a noble or a house of nobles, sometimes even a coalition of them. All save the Exemplars. They answered only to the wizards of Horn Tower.
The nobles could be seen discussing the latest additions to their fighting stables, bragging on all manner of trivial affairs. More than a few wore swords, mostly of the fashionable slim variety with the ornate basket hilts, and most were so bundled up in fabrics as to hardly resemble ponies at all. Red saw a number of the powerful Houses represented here. There was the sigil of House Oak, and there was Countess Hauteur of House Silverblood. She spoke with Lady Hail Stormwalker, an armored, fierce-eyed pegasus who commanded the loyalty of, it was said, every pegasus in Equestria.
To Red’s intense chagrin, Prince Ebouillon of Canterlot was in attendance. He was draped in brocaded purple velvet, but carried no sword. The old ruling family, the Platinums, still clung desperately to their sense of importance. They stamped their own currency and kept their own guards, challenging Celestia and Luna at every turn. Trends were set in Canterlot, and the Platinums enforced traditions. Ebouillon was heir to all their power.
And Red hated him. Red hated him more than he hated magic itself. It was a special kind of loathing reserved for a special kind of tormentor.
Ebouillon looked up from a conversation with several fancy dignitaries from Prance, as if sensing Red’s baleful glare. The Prince knew who the swordpony; Red’s very existence was a constant source of shame to the Platinums. They ruled the Shires where was raised, and now he defied their oldest laws.
Their eyes met for only an instant, just long enough for Ebouillon to take note of the swordpony and lose interest. He smiled an easy little smile with eyes half-lidded, all but unreadable, and turned back to his conversation.
Red seethed. He kept staring, wishing for all the world he could do something ugly. Two armed guards in silver armor took note and fixed him with glares of their own. They brandished halberds, all too ready for a fight.
He left.
Some of the richer knights, lords in their own right, were followed by swarms of squires and other servants. Red made a game of recognizing them. There was Ser Seaworth the Onion Knight arguing with Ser Stomper, also Onion Knight. Yet another Onion Knight glared at the both of them from the safety of a tent. Nearby stood old Ser Diction Hornbuckle the Librarian, who wore entire books over his armor and was said to be capable of reciting from memory every tome ever written. Red even caught a glimpse of proud Ser Segmund Craw the Lobster Knight, arrayed as always in his ridiculous crimson armor. Nopony squired for Craw. But then, nopony squired for Red Pommel.
More destitute fighters huddled around the edges, away from the colorful banners. These were the hedge knights, hopeful participants in the tourney who possessed neither land nor title. Most wore battered, undecorated armor, their faces guarded. For them, squires were close friends or an expensive tax on an already meager living. They needed this tournament to prove themselves and catch the eye of a wealthy patron. Few would get the chance.
Red could sympathize. It was a hard life traveling from tourney to tourney, looking for wealth and fame. The swordpony tried to give friendly nods and words of encouragement to all those he passed near.
They smiled. Some asked for his blessing, or even his sponsorship. The latter he was forced to decline, even though he would have loved nothing more than to put together his own stable of knights. It was his dream to one day compete with the aristocracy, but that would involve stepping into the realm of political maneuvering. It would be more than just frowned upon.
But opportunity caught Red’s eye. He marched up to one of the fancier nobles, a porcine stallion swaddled in various green silks and velvets that matched his bushy mustache. He was remarking on the fineries of wine and heliotrope flowers, which had been laid out on a bench for him and his equally fat wife.
It wasn’t customary to speak to powerful nobility without first being spoken to in turn, but Red tried to spurn such rules as often as possible.
“Good evening, Baron Tralee!” Red always opened with his best accent. “I trust you are enjoying yourselves?”
The Baron wrinkled his nose and set down his goblet of wine. He selected an exotic flower with his magic before giving the swordpony a barely restrained glance of distaste, looking as if he were about to pointedly ignore this affront to his dignity. Then, taking note of the royal crests on the swordpony’s armor, he forced a smile.
Perfect. No noble could pass up the chance to buy the ear of a pony so close to the Princesses.
“Verily,” said Lord Tralee in a pretentious impersonation of the Royal voice, plus a few octaves. “‘Tis a most remarkable occasion, thoroughly delightful and exciting. And how art thou on this fine evening?”
Red noted with satisfaction the look on the face of the Baron’s wife. She was absolutely livid, only just restraining herself to indifference. If he had been any other pony she would have already insulted him nine different ways, each more cutting than the last, and seen him removed from her presence by guards. But as Red had a great deal of pull with said guards...
“Oh, I’m just fine,” said the swordpony. “I look forward to the jousting, myself.” He looked down with feigned surprise at the Lady’s attire. She was wearing half the colors of the rainbow, all of them so brightly-hued as to be saccharine. But what really caught his eye was her necklace. “Pearls? Honestly, who wears pearls anymore?”
The Lady’s eyes flashed. Her mouth fell open. She huffed and stammered, her pink face rapidly turning a deep shade of violet. She stormed away. Baron Tralee looked flabbergasted, angry, and embarrassed all at the same time. He shot a murderous glare in Red Pommel’s direction before waddling after his wife.
“Hmph!” the Lady snorted, nose in the air. “Earth ponies!”
It took effort on Red’s part to keep from laughing out loud. There were few joys in the world greater than mocking the nobility and getting away with it. Being the realm's foremost Master Swordpony certainly had its perks. Maybe now House Tralee would quit sending him all those greasy, patronizing letters. He turned to find that the Prance dignitaries had already turned their backs -- a shame -- and so he nipped at the heliotropes on the table. They were almost as purple as the Lady's face had become. Sadly, they weren't nearly half so satisfying.
Cutting through the maze of tents, Red kept his eyes and ears peeled for further opportunities. Knights hailed him from afar or greeted him as he passed, and he returned the favor. He had crossed swords with many of them in the past. Unlike their masters, they had long ago grown to respect lowborn shireponies. He’d certainly given them enough hard knocks to earn it.
The end of the assembly hall came all too soon. A checkpoint of ten highly polished Royal Guards stood before the entrance to the Royal Booth. They lifted their spears to allow Red passage, and their sergeant greeted him with a simple nod.
Red hesitated upon entering. Inside, his smile faded and he tugged at his armor, tightening the straps. Was his crest of office on straight? He aligned it as best he could before continuing up the wooden stairs. He wished he could be somewhere else, doing anything but this. Unfortunately, as much as he disliked it, his real job wasn’t basking in fame, it was standing guard behind the Princesses.
Somewhat surprisingly, a particularly high-ranking Guard waited halfway up the stairs, his own golden helm tucked securely under one leg. The blue horsehair crest stood as stiffly at attention as the pony himself, his embellished breastplate glittering in the light of a powerful brazier.
This was the steadfast Glinted Chape, Captain of the Royal Guard. A puffy pink scar split his face down the middle, starting just below his horn and cutting through one nostril to end on the point of his chin. He wore an enormous bushy mustache.
“Hail, Glint,” greeted Red, armor clanking with each trot.
“Hail, Pommel.” The buckskin stallion returned. With his magic he dipped the hilt of his namesake, an undecorated dueling saber.
For a unicorn of high rank, the Captain was a surprisingly affable fellow. He was also one of Red’s few friends around the castle. It helped that he didn’t practice the pretentious mannerisms of most unicorns.
“The guardsponies are already looking exhausted,” Red declared. “This is going to be a long week.”
Glint snorted with a ruffle of his immaculate mustache. “A pity we still lack full strength, then. I have my stallions stretched to the breaking point, Red. We simply cannot patrol castle and stadium. Not with this much traffic.”
Red nickered. The Royal Guard had been on a recruitment drive for months, having lost fully a third of their number to a vampire earlier in the year. It had taken intervention on Princess Luna’s behalf to finish the fiend once Red and Glint had it impaled on their blades. The Captain’s face was still knitting itself back together after that particular scuffle, as evidenced by his gruesome scar. Red was beginning to wonder if it would ever heal.
“We may be short on strength,” he said. “But I have confidence in you, Glint. The tournament is in good hooves.” He smiled encouragingly and laid a bejewled greave across his friend’s shoulder.
The Captain put on his helmet, dour as usual, before he turned to trot up the stairs. “I’ve a pessimist’s mind, Red. But if you think we can keep a lid on this affair, then I’m with you. Let’s to the Sisters afore they murder each other, eh?”
Red laughed, the tension of the moment shattered. Glint’s grim demeanour melted away, replaced by a grin that even the mustache could not hide.
Ribbing each other, the two friends performed an exaggerated imitation of an argument between the Princesses, looking both ways to make sure nopony was around to watch. It was good to make light of things now and then, but it was best the other guards didn’t see the display.
“I suppose we really should get up there...” Red muttered with a trace of resignation. His laughter was still echoing in the stairwell.
Captain Glint’s mask of dutiful gruffness returned. “Aye.”
A bearded guard of middle age and high rank waited for the two stallions at the top of the stairs. He saluted, then opened a set of oaken doors with his magic. Idyllic laughter wafted out of the room as they entered, coming from one of two tall and stately alicorns seated on twin piles of cushions.
Glint took up position against the back wall, between his lieutenants. Each cradled a spear.
Princess Celestia was still laughing when Red Pommel made an inspection of the booth, her hooves running over the ornate wooden banisters as if she were an excited foal. Like the Master Swordpony, this was by far her favorite time of the year, allowing her a little time off from the endless struggles of mending a broken world.
“Is it not fantastic, sister?” she asked in an elated voice, sparkling rainbow hair flowing around her as if it had a life of its own.
Luna snorted, having apparently descended into another of her choleric moods. Her lip twisted upward into a sneer, marring an otherwise beautiful countenance. It seemed the younger Princess’ disposition grew worse year by year, exacerbated by the celebration of the Summer Solstice. She’d get over it soon enough. There was always winter.
A spontaneous cheer suddenly erupted from outside the purple curtains surrounding the booth. Red pulled the drapes aside with one hoof and poked his nose through, wondering what had happened to stir the crowd. The drapes were heavy as lead and smelled of old rains, old candles, and old moths.
The great stadium was filled to the bursting point today. Red doubted its like had ever seen such a crowd as this one. The smaller pavilion at the other end of the field was packed with merchants and shopkeepers, families of the middle-class. Both grandstands on either side had been crammed full of lower ponies, with booths for noble families scattered at even intervals. Red knew that the floors of the pavilion beneath him would be stacked full of yet more rich families.
Even the skies above were stacked with clouds for the swarms of pegasi. Only the Royal Booth contained enough room to move about in, much less actually sit. Not that there was much room in the booth either, what with the alicorns, the half dozen Royal Guards, and the perch set aside for Celestia’s absentee pet phoenix.
"Where hence flies that insouciant bird?" Celestia mused aloud, taking note of the aforementioned empty perch. She turned and nudged her sister’s wing. "Luna, art thou troubled by something? Thou seem... distant."
“Thine celebration riles me, Tia,” grumbled the Princess of the Night, her sable coat shimmering despite the shade of the booth. “Thou knowest of my vexation. Why dost thou bother with dragging me along year after year when no tournament exists to call my own?”
Red Pommel took up position behind the Princesses as they bickered, rubbing at the breastplate of his new armor with one hoof. The sisters argued often enough that he had taken to ignoring them more often than not, and he knew this particular argument by heart. It was as much an annual ritual as the Solstice itself. In point of fact, it was the same argument that he and Captain Glint had imitated in the stairwell. Were it not so tedious, he might have laughed.
It was always the same. Luna would demand a Winter Solstice Tournament, and Celestia would argue that Equestria couldn’t support two tourneys a year, not with the realm still struggling after the War of Provincial Secession. Besides, she would finish, nopony would want to make a trip to Everfree when the snow was ten feet deep. Then Luna would sulk and make snide remarks or cast glares in the direction of anypony nearby.
Presently, her gaze settled on Red Pommel. He shuddered at the thought that she might somehow have read his mind.
“Hark, citizens of Equestria!”
The vast stadium did not so much fall silent as it was drowned out by the sound of the announcer. Red knew her by her voice, a white unicorn mare equipped with a powerful voice amplification spell somewhere down the field. He was tempted to lift the curtain and look for her in the opposite pavilion, but to do so he would need to leave his post.
“Hail, all ye travelers!” the mare called in a perfect imitation of the Royal voice. “Verily, thou art prepared to commence with the festivities, art thou not? Doth thy heart beat all aquiver with anticipation? Prithee, lend me thine ears as we commence the first bout of the evening! Cast thine eyes upon yonder Royal Booth and witness our exalted Princesses in all their splendor!”
-- Sworn Shield’s “Sisters Alicorn” journal entry --
On cue, the curtains at the front of the booth were blown aside by the glow of unicorn magic. Wild cheers erupted from the packed hordes when they spotted the alicorns within, quickly turning into a pulsing chant that echoed inside Red’s helmet and shook the floorboards beneath his hooves. It seemed as if everypony in the stadium were stomping in time with one another. He was sorely tempted to join in, as he had when he’d been a colt.
Celestia leaned forward over the banister, hooves draped across it with childlike enthusiasm. Her sister reluctantly joined her a moment later, though she for once remained stiff and regal. The crowd cheered all the wilder when the Princesses started waving, threatening to bring down the entire stadium with their enthusiasm. The roar was deafening.
“Hark!” the announcer continued, “The combatants for the first bout make their entrances! Right to the chase we cut, it seems! Oh-ho! Behold, Ser Silver Lance, Knight of Canterlot, and Ser Neighwain of Hoofington! Honorable stallions both, they have proven their steadfast courage on numerous occasions. Many can attest to their chivalry and valor in battle, but few can match them!”
Red grinned. He knew both of the combatants personally, had even fought beside them once upon a time. Both were among the best knights in the realm. They were beneath his line of sight, but he imagined them marching out onto the lightly tilled lists, squires at their flanks. Neighwain was as chivalrous and sincere as they came. Red remembered him well from the Bloody Pasture. He was the first son of a powerful unicorn family, but as an earth pony he might as well have been born fourth. He would be carrying himself humbly, as befitted his temperament, with only one squire at his side.
Silver Lance, on the other hoof, was the cousin and sworn shield of Prince Ebouillon. He was, by all appearances, the perfect fairytale ideal of knighthood. Highborn, noble and honorable, a model of chivalry, and skilled at everything he attempted. Furthermore, he was a unicorn of Canterlot, and that made him the complete package of everything wrong in the world. And yet, even all of that might have been forgivable if not for Silver’s dashing good looks and glittering platinum mane.
There was just something about the white stallion that set Red ill at ease. To call them rivals was to dance with dangerous understatements. Had things gone differently five years ago, it would have been Silver standing in the booth of the Sisters.
Both knights stopped in the center of the field and made short bows to one another. They waved to the crowd. Here they were in view of Red, and he took the opportunity to size them up.
As expected, a single squire flanked Neighwain in drab livery. A crimson plume flowed from the top of Neighwain’s pointed helm, matching the red embellishments on the rest of his armor as well as the surcoat that he wore over it. Silver Lance, meanwhile, was flanked by three attendants, all of them unicorns like himself. His armor shone impossibly, blindingly bright, likely the result of a glamour spell. For all that, he greeted Neighwain with a friendly hoof-shake and received by far the louder cheer from the crowd.
A knot of officials and judges ran out to address them. Red knew what they’d be saying. Injury to one party must be paid in full by the other, and points were to be scored not just based on control of the fight, but also on style, flair, and placement of hits. He’d been down there himself, the eyes of a thousand ponies boring into his armor. The memory of that time flowed hot in his veins. It wasn’t an experience any pony could forget.
After a minute, the crowd was pressing in on all sides to get a look through the throng of officials. A breathless roar built in the air as excitement rose. Celestia herself joined in on the cheer, and even Luna’s frown had morphed into a look of strained anticipation.
Red shot a glance at Captain Glint, who returned it with an expression of amusement.
The knot of robed officials in the arena suddenly scattered, moving to various posts around the field. The crowd erupted into a shrill, singular scream of jubilation, pounding their hooves in unison. They were just building up to a good wave when Celestia leaned over the balcony and let loose an overenthusiastic shout of her own, and this one at full Royal Canterlot volume.
“BEGIN THE BOUT!”
Both Red and the Royal Guards winced, attempting to cover their ears. Celestia’s yell echoed in the booth with all the force of a roaring Ursa Major. Luna’s smile fell immediately. She shot her sister a venomous glare that would have liquified lesser ponies. Celestia didn’t even notice.
In the arena, the knights cast off their quilted surcoats. They shone in the sun, incandescent as dueling candles. Neighwain sported a hefty studded tail mace, which he flicked about experimentally before letting his squire sheathe a sword across his back. Silver grabbed a long, winged spear and levitated it into the crook of one leg. A spark of lightning danced on the point of his armored horn.
A loud trumpet bellowed even as the knights lowered their visors, and the fight was on.
The earth pony and the unicorn were well matched, ducking and swinging with wicked precision, landing a flurry of blows on each other’s defenses before breaking apart for a moment’s breather. They circled each other, slowly strafing tighter and tighter until they met again with another peal of thunder.
Red Pommel found his gaze fixated, the breath hitching in his lungs as the knights converged again and again. For a while they dipped below his line of sight, and it was all he could do not to rush forward. When they came back into sight, he almost cheered.
Silver lunged with his winged spear, alternating between holding it in his legs and mounting it on his armor for incredibly accurate strikes. With his magic he held the decisive advantage, his horn lending the spear a life all its own. Neighwain just barely fended him off with his shield before spinning about to sweep at the unicorn’s legs with his tail-mace. When next they broke apart, the crowd was cheering so loudly that Red almost didn’t hear Celestia.
“Ser Pommel,” called Celestia, turning her head to the swordpony, “Come hither!”
Keeping his eyes on the fight, Red stepped to the Princess’ side and snapped to attention, feeling especially formidable in his new armor. It wasn’t often he found occasion to wear such lavish accoutrements. He wondered if she was going to point out that his crest of office was off-center.
“Look upon yonder bout!” exclaimed the Regent of the Sun. “‘Tis exciting, is it not? Truly, the competitors are the finest of knights. Doth thou remember when last thou fought in the Tournament?”
Red nodded deferentially, glad for the view he had been provided. “Indeed I do, your grace. Five years ago, almost to the day. The Centennial.”
Down below, Neighwain landed a solid blow on Silver’s helm, only for the unicorn to reciprocate with his spear even as he was reeling backwards. Cascades of dirt fountained into the air as both knights slid to a stop away from each other, hooves plowing deep ruts in the earth.
Silver’s helm had been knocked aside. It was still bouncing in the dirt when the unicorn’s sword flashed into existence. Neighwain charged again, head down, crimson plume flying.
Red almost missed what Celestia said next.
“Doth thou miss thine days of tourneying?”
“No your grace,” lied the swordpony. “My career was as short as it was enjoyable, but I am content in my station.”
In truth, he would have loved nothing more than to be a knight again. Not just a tourneying knight, but a questing knight like the ones of old. He wanted to be on adventures, to see new places, to save damsels in distress and sleep under the stars. Anything was better than following the Princesses around all day, standing in court for hours at a time and trying to stay on top of the latest politics.
Oh, how he hated the politics.
“Thine final bout was even greater than this,” enthused Celestia, never taking her eyes off the two knights below. “Doth thou remember it? Thine skill with the sword put even unicorns to shame.”
Red smiled, an armored hoof moving involuntarily to the longsword at his flank. He gave it a fond pat. It was a beautiful sword, mostly undecorated but deceptive in its simplicity. Years ago he had used his winnings from two separate tournaments and still gone hungry for a month so as to pay for its forging. With it he’d defeated Silver Lance, then the most renowned knight in the realm. Face to face, blade to blade. His namesake, the ruby set into the pommel, was a recent addition.
That victory in the Centennial Tournament had been the greatest triumph in Red’s entire life. He almost chuckled aloud, remembering a time when the legendary Dusky Oatis had held the mantle and given rise to the ambitions of a young shirepony.
But in truth, Red didn’t remember the fateful duel which had come to define his career. All memory of the encounter had been stripped away by a concussion sustained at Silver Lance’s doing near the beginning of the fight. He’d gone on to win anyway with a stunning counter-riposte after an extended duel.
So they told him, at any rate. He remembered little besides walking into the arena with a badly bruised hock, trembling with anticipation, and being carried off the field some time later with a splitting headache. Sometimes, when he was on the blurry line between sleep and awake, he could dimly feel the outer edges of another memory, perhaps something that Silver Lance had said during the battle. But the specifics were lost to time.
Come to think of it, the only real record of the battle was a painting hanging in the castle library. The painting showed a younger Red bucking young Silver in the chest with both hindlegs, sword firmly gripped between them to embed itself in the unicorn’s breastplate. He was fairly certain that such a thing had never happened in the actual bout, but he couldn’t begrudge an artist their bravura.
All of a sudden a terrific cry sounded from the heavens, shaking him from his hazy reminiscing. Moments later there shot a magnificent red and gold bird from the sky overhead, fire billowing from its wings. Pegasi scattered as the phoenix dove through the cloud banks to alight on the perch set aside for her at Celestia's side. Red took a careful step back when tongues of flame dripped into an ashtray on the floor.
“Philomena!” Celestia scolded. “Thou art late!”
The bird cooed indifferently and folded her enormous red wings back at her sides, leaning in to nuzzle the alicorn. Then, as if Philomena had spoken, Celestia stiffened and put her ear to the bird’s beak. Her normally serene features went unreadable while the phoenix trilled in her ear.
Red felt ill at ease. He'd seen that look once before, when a delegation of deer from the Shimmerwood came bearing ill news of one of Celestia’s old friends. Both Princesses had agonized for days after that, ignoring every petitioner that came seeking audience. Not even immediately after the War of Secession had she looked so grave. What could...
Without warning a horn blew from the other end of the arena, silencing the crowd for just a moment before the climactic cheer tore from everypony’s throats. Red turned back to the bout, cursing himself for letting the phoenix distract him.
Down below, Neighwain’s helmet lay beside him, the magnificent red plume spilling across the ground like gore from a wound. The defeated knight sat on his haunches in the churned up dirt. Silver Lance stood over the him, sword suspended over his head in an envelope of magical energy. A sure victory, then. His snowy mane billowed theatrically in the wind.
Red frowned. This wasn’t a particularly surprising outcome. For all his skill, Neighwain was still only an earth pony, and earth ponies were at a woeful disadvantage when it came to armed combat. Still he swore under his breath.
In the corner of his eye he saw Celestia move, partially obscured by his helm.
“To the Knight of Canterlot goeth the victory! Jubilation! Verily, a bout to be remembered o’er the ages! To the lists we shall proceed, and ready yonder field for the tilting as...”
The announcer suddenly went deathly silent, and a hush fell over the crowd. Red started and went for his sword. He looked around to see what had gone wrong, only to realize that Celestia and Luna had cast a noise nullification spell around the entire booth. The air around them actually seemed to drape in leaden sheets. Sparkly leaden sheets.
Red and Captain Glint exchanged wary glances. Philomena simply cooed and nuzzled her head into her sparking breast for a nap, fire lapping at the perch on which she sat.
Across the booth the Princesses stood alone, the elder sister whispering urgently to the younger. Red turned his ears to the pair, attempting to listen without appearing to eavesdrop. He knew even the guards were doing the same. The silence continued to press in around them.
“More dragons?” questioned Luna, her normally thunderous voice as quiet as a field mouse. Red strained to hear her. “How then doth thou intend to react?”
Celestia was grim. “We shall need to send an envoy to the Crystal Mountains. I shall write up the document myself. Tonight.”
“Whom do we trust to deliver it?” the younger sister pressed. “A pronghorn?”
The elder Princess thought for a moment. “Nay, dear sister.”
“But why? ‘Tis the simplest solution!”
“Perhaps we shall wait until the tournament is complete, and name the champion our envoy?”
Luna scowled. “Why tarry a week? This reeks of folly!”
Red frowned, tense with worry. Had he heard ‘dragons?’ And yet...
An idea wormed its way into his thoughts. Dare he act on it? His head filled with fancies of adventure. For his whole life he’d wished for the opportunity to go questing like the knights of old. This was his chance.
He opened his mouth, then shut it. No, he shouldn’t. It would be against every protocol he knew. But he spurned the silly rules of the nobility... didn’t he?
Red realized he was staring straight into the eyes of Princess Celestia.
He froze. His tongue went dry in an instant. He struggled to look away, to turn to the drapes, to the floor, to the crowd outside. Anything to avert the burning sense of shame in his throat. But all he could do was hold that piercing stare. It burned straight through his armor, cut right to the heart of him. What did she see?
And when had she turned to look at him?
Princess Luna looked to her, then to him. She cocked an eyebrow.
“Celie...” she said in a voice usually reserved for warnings. “Shall I send for the pronghorns?”
Celestia smiled. Her gaze softened. She brought a hoof to her chin and turned to regard her sister. Only then was Red able to look away. He still heard what was said next.
“Oh, don’t worry dear sister.” Celestia had dropped the Canterlot voice. “I believe we already possess a perfectly suitable envoy.”
The Princess’ piercing stare returned to Red.
He stammered, panicked, and fell into a low bow almost without meaning to, one front leg stretched out before him, the other curled beneath him. His eyes screwed shut of their own accord.
Suddenly he felt a horn touch his helm.
“Rise, Ser Pommel.”
Red obeyed with just a hint of trepidation. For him the Solstice Tournament was already over. And yet, was that a hint of excitement fluttering in his breast? No, it was probably wariness. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
Something his father once said came back to him in a condescending whisper. He barely heard it, even tried unsuccessfully to ignore it.
Be careful what you wish for, little pony... you might just get it.
