//------------------------------// // Chapter 23: Generals // Story: Darkness of Ages - Book 1: Greyhield // by YoungQuillMaster //------------------------------// Gylom sat sharpening his lance’s tip, the blade having become dull during the battle for Stalliongrad after being shoved into countless ponies. Gylom looked up as Spike sat down beside him, looking at the floor with the same gloomy look he had had for the past few days. Gylom looked at his lance one more time, and decided it was sharp enough, and if proven otherwise, he could continue later. Setting it aside, he leaned back, using his hands to support his as he looked up at the cave’s ceiling. “So, still not feeling your best, I see.” Gylom said calmly, Spike nodding in response as his shoulder sagged after a deep sigh. “I can understand that. You feel as if your only anchor to who you are now to who you were before was just thrown away.” Spike looked over at Gylom with a curious expression. “Yeah, how did you know that?” Spike asked, sitting a bit taller as he looked the general up and down. Gylom sighed, and after a moment of silence, looked over at Spike. “I know the feeling a bit too well.” Gylom replied finally, only succeeding in making Spike all the more curious to know what secrets this general had. “What do you mean? What happened that made you feel that way?” Spike questioned. “If you don’t mind sharing that is.” Gylom shook his head as he closed his eyes. “I don’t mind much. It all happened so long ago.” Gylom muttered before opening his eyes again. He sat up straight and turned to look at Spike. “According to reptilous tradition, at least during my younger years, the father must be present during his son’s initiation into his first military grouping. My father, in opposition to this, not only didn’t come, but cursed my very name.” Spike starred in shock at Gylom, who suddenly become less of a great general, but more of a very approachable neighbor who had his own set of problems. “How could he do such a thing?” Spike questioned. “Doesn’t he know how much that would hurt you?” Gylom shook his head. “If he did know it didn’t matter enough for him to change his mind.” Gylom replied. “To continue, I eventually rose to the rank of lieutenant, and was put in command of a small regiment of newer recruits. We entered into battle against one of our competing tribes, and it was that day I discovered something about my father that no other reptilous knows to this day.” “What exactly was that?” Spike asked, engrossed in the story. Gylom’s expression seemed to turn dark as his thought wandered back to that day. “My father showed me that he was willing to go to any length to ensure I knew his displeasure.” Gylom replied. “When we arrived, I looked across the battlefield, and saw my father holding his massive sword, heading the enemy charge.” Spike looked in shock at Gylom’s statement. “I had no choice but to engage, even though my troops were outnumbered and outclassed, if to do nothing but to show my father I had a measure of bravery and pride in me.” “What happened?” Spike pressed. Gylom was silent for a while, not making any sign of intending to continue. “Gylom? Are… are you alright?” Gylom sighed in response. “Gylom, I’m sorry if I offended you.” “No, it isn’t you,” Gylom replied, “These particular memories have always been a bit of a sensitive bunch.” Gylom looked down at the floor for a few second, gathering himself before continuing. “My father’s forces hit hard, crushing our number with great speed. I seemed to be the only one even capable to fight any of our enemies with any measure of success. I had been able to beat of at least three enemies before I faced him.” Gylom looked up towards Spike. “My father stood before me, his long sword held in one hand. We charged each other without hesitation, but it was a one sided fight. I quickly fell back to a defensive posture while he railed on me, leaving me no opening to fight back.” “How did you make it out of that?” Spike asked, carefully judging Gylom’s expression, hoping to not damage him any further. “He were bailed out by a larger, better trained unit. My father retreated after felling three of our saviors as if they were nothing.” Gylom sighed, looking back to the floor. “I informed our tribes leader about who I had faced. My father was a well renowned reptilous, having forged his own sword after not being satisfied with the length of normal sword or even a two handed blade. But it wasn’t his massive blade that we feared, but his sheer speed and strength that he could exert through and in it and with the ease he did what he did.” Spike tried to think of something that might match this description, but all his imaginings fell short as Gylom continued. “If he had stayed on our side the wars would have finished years earlier, but because he continually changed alliances to the clan with the greatest strength that was fighting against us, the warring parties stayed on the field for decades longer than needed.” “Did you ever find him after the war ended?” Spike questioned. Gylom shook his head solemnly. “So… he didn’t die during the war?” “I inspected the bodies from each battle, and never once did we find him or his sword.” Gylom replied. “But thing that I want to say is this,” Gylom looked back to Spike as he went on, “Through my father’s actions I was forged into the warrior I am now. Without him, I’d still only be wearing chain mail like any other soldier from those times, but because he betrayed us and showed he could easily destroy any chainmail suit, I had to rethink my defense, becoming the first juggernaut reptilous ever knew.” “And what am I supposed to take away from that?” Spike asked. “Am I supposed to become the next juggernaut or something?” “Not exactly,” Gylom replied with a small smile, “The fact of life is that no matter how strong you feel your bonds with another are, one day you’ll have to say your final farewells, whether by becoming enemies or by seeing their final breathe. The thing you must remember is that even in times you feel the world has fallen is that you need to be stronger than your circumstances.” “So am I supposed to simply shrug off how betrayed I feel over my friends attempting to kill me?” Spike asked, feeling his ire rise a bit. “No, the feelings of pain you have are, in opposition to what you might think, are good.” Gylom said, effectively diffusing Spike’s ire. “No matter what, you need to remember when things went poorly and not make the same mistakes or at least become that much stronger for the experience you have had.” Gylom stated. “The wounds of betrayal you have may never heal, in fact it isn’t likely they will, but you need to learn to cope, and not just appear to cope, but actually be able to take it well and move on. But don’t move on as if nothing happened, because it did happen, but move on with what happened in mind and let it make you a better, stronger being.” Spike fell silent as Gylom finished, his head turning to the floor this time. Gylom took up his lance again and began inspecting hits edge. “Just so you know, Spike, I’m open to talk to you anytime you need to talk.” Spike smiled to himself. “Thanks, General.” Spike said. “Please, just call me Gylom. Greyhield has shown you a sign of respect, and as far as I see it, we are equals in many rights.” Gylom stated as he began sharpening his lance’s tip. Spike nodded slowly. “Having a heart to heart, Gylom?” Glenn’s voice asked from behind them. Gylom nodded as he continued to sharpen his lance. “Yes, and for once I knew you were there.” Gylom stated calmly as he wiped metal off with a rag. Glenn’s expression shifted to one of curiosity as he approached the two. “Oh, how did you notice me standing behind you?” Glenn asked, sitting down on a stool. Gylom tapped on the lance’s point. “Saw your reflection in the metal.” Gylom replied before setting it down once more. “Well, let’s lighten the mood up a bit. I’ve had enough dark reminiscing for one day.” Gylom said, his mood shifting instantly to him usually mood of slightly happier than the rest of the troops. “Say, Glenn, I heard some of your reptilous brought in some supplies from Stalliongrad the other day.” “It is true; they are now providing us with the goods that had poured into their storehouses during their days of commerce.” Glenn replied. “I hear the ponies don’t make too bad a batch of cider. How about we pop open a barrel and take a taste of the spoils of war.” Gylom said, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah, I had some of the cider… before. It is really good. How about we have some as… a reward of sorts?” Spike asked, unsure how to act around Glenn ever since the death threat had been made. Glenn was silent for a few moments. “I have a feeling you might not know what Gylom is exactly aiming for when he says ‘cider’.” Glenn stated, leaving Spike unsure. “Eh… what does he mean by the word cider?” Spike asked cautiously. “In the days of the war, morale was quite low due to constant losses.” Glenn explained. “So to counter act the depressing state of our soldier we… invested in the manufacturing of a special type of cider that helped relieve the stress a reptilous feels.” “That doesn’t sound too bad, I mean, relieving stress and raising morale is a good thing. Right?” Spike asked, feeling very unsure of what was happening. “Here’s a question for you. Does your cider producer let their cider sit around, and if so, for how long?” Glenn asked, leaning in close. “Eh…,” Spike thought a few second, unsure where this was going, “It’s usually fresh pressed, only sitting around for a few minutes at most.” “That is the difference between your cider and ours.” Glenn replied. “We let our cider sit around for weeks, if not months.” Spike’s mouth opened into an ‘o’ shape as he realized what he was going for. “The cider Gylom is doubtlessly referring to is called ‘Manehattan Cider’, which was derived from our recipe.” “That is true.” Gylom said with a shrug. “I guess I might like it a bit too much for my own good. But really, what reptilous from those days didn’t start to take a liking to it after a few long, hard battles.” Glenn nodded slowly. “So I suppose that means two barrels, one of Manehattan, one dry.” Glenn said while standing up. Spike nodded while Gylom simply shrugged. Gylom opened the spout on the barrel of cider, letting the juice flow into his large mug, the froth flowing over the sides of the cup and onto the floor. Spike watched the general as he sipped at his own cup of Sweet Apple Acres style cider, enjoying the fact it had been well kept in a refrigerated cell which kept it nice a cold, something he had only enjoyed once or twice before. Gylom chugged his drink down in a few swift gulps, an image that reminded Spike of Pinkie Pie. The memory made him feel slightly wrong for not sharing the cider with his friends, even if they had betrayed him. It was then he came to a resolution and decided he’d be the better friend and show them he could move past it, and maybe they would come around and try to be friends once more. “I’m going to go. I think I’ll let some others have a bit of this cider.” Spike said, hefting the barrel onto his shoulder as he scooped up several mugs. “Oh, Spike, just so you know, I filled up a canteen with cider for you.” A rather tipsy Gylom said, tossing Spike a small corked bottle toward him, which he caught, quite an amazing feat with his hands being as cluttered as they were. “Thank you, that’s… nice of you.” Spike hesitated as his mind began to connect a few dots that made him doubtful. Spike started to walk off, only to here a dull thump behind him. Turning, he saw an unconscious Gylom with a mug on his snout and an alert Glenn sitting near him, taking a few sips now and again. “Is he alright?” Spike asked. Gylom looked over at the downed general and sat back up. “For all his love of the hard stuff, he doesn’t have the stomach to handle it.” Glenn stated with a small smile before drinking a bit more of is Manehattan cider. Spike shrugged and once again set off. Spike set the barrel in front of the cell, the guards once again outside the highly secure cell. Spike began pouring drink into the mugs as the ponies looked between him and the drinks. “For Pinkie,” Spike muttered as he pushed one mug up to the bars, “For Rarity,” He mumbled as he repeated the action, looking up briefly to make sure the ponies were moving, “For Applejack, for Twilight, for Fluttershy,” He continued as he shoved the mugs to the cell’s bars, “And for,” He began as he twisted the barrel’s knob, only to get a sputter as the barrel gave its last, causing Rainbow Dash to groan, “You know, I think these barrel might just be rigged to always be empty when you want a mug.” Spike took out his canteen and pushed it up to the bars. “Here you go, Rainbow.” Rainbow took the mug and began to drink only to spit it out after having the taste set in. “Bleh, what is that stuff? Is this some sort of cruel joke?” Rainbow asked, rubbing her tongue against her hoof. “So Gylom did give me Manehattan cider. I was wondering…” Spike said with a small smile on his face. Rainbow cocked her head to the side. “Manehattan cider? Are the apples really that bad over there?” She asked, apparently as unknowing as Spike had been. “Uh, sugar cube, Manehattan cider is made with the same apples as ours,” Applejack confessed, “They just finish the process a bit different.” Rainbow looked at Applejack, expecting a full explanation. “Basically,” She began, “It’s the stiff stuff.” Rainbow’s mouth went to the same ‘o’ shape as Spike’s had as the realization dawned on her in the same way. The friends shortly broke out into a fit of laughter as Spike pushed his own mug over to the bars. And in the middle of the hardships of war, there was a moment of reconciliation between strained relations as the friends shared in a good laugh.