The Equine Scrolls: SkyFiM

by FireOfTheNorth

Chapter 53: The Corruption of Power

I jumped behind a forge as the dragon sent flames billowing down the street. Just across the cobblestones, Mystic hid beneath the overhang of an inn, preparing her magic to strike the dragon as soon as it came within range. Mephalda stood atop the inn, sending arrows flying into the flesh of the dragon, enraging it to the point that it sent flames flying at her, igniting the roof of the building just as she soared away.

After the encounter with Mareidia at Mount Kilkreath, we headed back to Whitetrot to get the location of another ancient earth pony ruin. It was already dark by the time we arrived, and we decided to sleep for the night and head up to Dragonsreach in the morning. Instead, we awoke to a frantic pounding on my door. Outside was a courier bringing news that Ivarsteed had been attacked by a dragon, and that it was now on its way to Shor’s Stone, and presumably Splitten after that.

Gathering up our gear, we set out for the lake town, arriving shortly after the dragon had begun its attack. This dragon seemed to have a plan, as it systematically went about lighting the buildings on fire. While it had merely harassed Ivarsteed and Shor’s Stone, it seemed intent on completely destroying Splitten, no doubt on Alduin’s orders.

I ducked inside the blacksmith’s shop as the dragon found me and tore apart the forge, sending sparks flying everywhere. A wall of flame hit the shop as I slammed the door shut. I galloped like mad through the shop, passing through into the living quarters behind it, where the blacksmith and his family were. Sliding out the back door, I stopped to peer around the corner of the building.

The dragon was advancing down the street, but stopped as Mystic suddenly revealed herself, sending lightning into the dragon’s neck. It swung its head around at her, smashing through the wall of the inn, but she ran inside before his jaws reached her. Inhaling sharply, the dragon suddenly sent fire through the hole it’d created in the inn, filling the room inside with flames. I hoped dearly that Mystic had made it to safety.

The dragon’s tail thrashed around, crashing through the charred front of the blacksmith’s shop, until Steadfast struck it with his warhammer. Weaving under the dragon’s tail, he struck it again. As it roared and began to turn around, he picked up a battleaxe that was lying near the forge and brought it down swiftly on the dragon’s tail. The blade sank nearly all the way through, coming close to chopping off the tail, leaving it hanging by a narrow strip of flesh and scales. Steadfast abandoned the axe in the tail and retrieved his warhammer as he galloped to safety.

<<<WULD~NAH~KEST!!!>>> I Shouted, shooting toward the dragon.

I whipped Calcion’s Cleaver out as I drew near, striking the dragon on the chin. It struggled to turn around in the narrow street, its wing smashing apart the upper level of the nearby inn. The front edge of the wing angled down at me next, bits of timber flying with it. I was unable to dodge and was picked up by the wing and slammed against the building adjacent to the smithy.

Though I had the wind knocked out of me, I sent flames shooting into the dragon’s wing, burning through the membrane. I quickly drank a potion of fire resistance as the dragon refused to let me go and instead breathed fire at me. Flames washed over both me and the dragon’s wing. The building behind me also got a good roasting, and as the dragon pressed harder with its exposed bone, I went flying back through the wall as it turned to ash.

I quickly picked myself up and ran out the back before the dragon attempted to roast me again. I ended up in yet another of Splitten’s winding streets, with no idea how to get to the dragon. I could hear it roaring, and saw Mephalda swoop over it, sending poisoned arrows down at it, but I couldn’t get to it.

Barrels were stacked in front of a nearby building, and I climbed up them to get a better view. After a bit of scrambling, I made it up to the rooftops, where I could look out at the city and find a route to the dragon. However, it found me first. I jumped into the air with assistance from its wings and landed on the rooftops across the street from me, its claws tearing through the roof.

I galloped across the roofs as the dragon breathed fire at me, making my way toward the city square where I’d have a bit more room to move around. Buildings went up in flame behind me, the entire row falling to the dragon’s fire. As I ran, I looked out at the city and saw just how much destruction had taken place already. This had to end soon, or else there wouldn’t be a Splitten at the end.

As I made it to the square, I leapt from the rooftops, rolling across the cobblestones and through the thin layer of snow that had accumulated. I quickly ducked behind the wall that ringed the square as the dragon sent even more fire at me. Stealthily, I made my way around to where I knew the dragon would enter.

<<<JOOR~ZAH~FRUL!!!>>> I Shouted, and the dragon was wracked with pain as it was forced to comprehend being mortal.

Holding out Calcion’s Cleaver, I shot lightning from its tip into the dragon’s face, blistering off scales. I stepped to the side as it attempted to roast me again, failing as it was distracted by Dragonrend. Suddenly, the dragon shook off my Shout’s effects and turned its head toward me, fire building in its nostrils. I had been advancing on it, and now I had no time to run and nowhere to hide.

A blast of ice struck it in the side of the head as it attempted to fry me, throwing its aim off. Mystic continued to blast the dragon as I ducked under its head and around to its side, drawing Dawnbreaker as well. I stabbed both swords into the dragon’s side as I galloped along, but was forced to stagger back as it slammed a claw down at me.

The dragon forced Mystic to retreat with its fire breath, then turned toward me, ice and scales peeling off its face. I slid under it as it breathed fire at me. On the far side was Steadfast, who helped me up with his hoof while breaking off scales with his warhammer. He gave me a push up onto the dragon’s back before retreating when it craned its neck around toward him.

<<<FO~KRAH~DIIN!!!>>> I Shouted as I ran up the dragon’s back, coating it in ice.

Mystic’s magic and my swords shattered the ice, tearing apart the dragon’s flesh beneath. I galloped forward as fast as I could while the dragon craned its neck around. It began to breath fire at me just as I made it far enough up its neck that it could no longer hit me. Still, a bit of my tail suffered as the flames licked at it.

Unable to roast me, the dragon instead twisted its neck around, trying to throw me off. As I began to slip, I stabbed Calcion’s Cleaver into the side of its neck, grabbing on with my forelegs and my teeth. When the dragon discovered it still hadn’t dislodged me, it swung its neck around again, intent on throwing me off.

<TIID!> I Shouted as I began to feel myself slipping.

Time slowed around me as I scrambled to stay on top of the dragon’s rotating neck. I pulled Calcion’s Cleaver out and charged forward until I was on top of the dragon’s head. As I began to feel time returning to normal, I quickly stabbed the blade through the dragon’s skull.

Suddenly, things snapped back to normal speed, and I was thrown off the dragon and sent rolling across the cobblestones. Calcion’s Cleaver was still in its head, however, and discharging lightning through its brain. The dragon’s eyes rolled up into its head, and it fell to the ground, its head smashing the low stone wall that surrounded the square.

It began to combust as I yanked my ancient earth pony sword from its skull. All its memories flew into my mind, and I began to experience its entire life in fast-forward. I caught fleeting glimpses of the knowledge of how to use Words of Power, but as I had no unlearned Words at the moment, the dragon’s memories taught me nothing new about how to Shout.

Now that the dragon was dead, residents of Splitten began to emerge from their homes, determined to see if the attack really was over. The square was soon flocked with grateful townsponies thanking us for stopping the dragon. One pony in the back of the crowd ran off to the keep, and a few Splitten guards pushed through the crowd a minute later.

“Jarl Aria would like to speak with you,” the guard captain said sharply before she turned and headed off toward the keep, her guards making a path through the crowd.

If the Jarl wanted to see me, who was I to object? I just hoped I wouldn’t be proclaimed Thane of another hold. I already had Whitetrot and Hoofingar to look after. As we reached Misttail Keep, the guards asked my friends to wait outside, which I found a bit odd, but I figured for some reason Aria must have only wanted to see me.

Within Misttail Keep, the guards led me to the main hall, where Jarl Aria was holding court. Nobleponies crowded around her, intent on praising her, except for a pale blue stallion who sat away from the rest, sullenly staring at the Jarl. Just to the Jarl’s left was the pony I had seen leave the crowd and rush to the keep. Come to think of it, she seemed familiar, as if I’d seen her before.

“Is this her?” Jarl Aria asked the pony standing beside her.

“Yes, she’s the one,” the mare responded.

At a wave of her hoof, the guards suddenly grabbed me.

“You are hereby under arrest for the murder of Sage,” the Jarl announced, “Take her to the dungeons.”

I suddenly remembered where I’d seen that mare before. When I’d killed Sage at the orphanage, she’d been the other caretaker who’d called the guards on me. I kept her in sight as the guards dragged me away to the dungeons.

What was I to do? I was guilty of the crime, and I knew it. Not to mention I probably wouldn’t even get a trial from Aria if she was really as corrupt as the Thieves Guild claimed her to be.

The idea suddenly came to me. Maybe the Thieves Guild could help. They certainly didn’t like Jarl Aria, and they just might be willing to do something about it. Also, I had a way to get out of my cell and find them.

At the changing of the guard, I opened up the wall of my cell the same way Serif had the first time we’d been trapped here, and snuck through the walls of Misttail Keep. After retrieving my possessions from the evidence chest, I headed down into the Ratway. Going by memory, I eventually found my way to the Ragged Flagon.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Serif said as I entered through the back entrance, “Where did you come from?”

“Prison,” I told her, sitting down across from her at the table.

I went on to explain the whole affair, including how I’d killed Sage for the Dark Brotherhoof, and how I’d just helped save the town from a dragon attack. It looked like I was trapped down here. I certainly couldn’t show my face in Splitten again, not with Jarl Aria out to get me. But, maybe there was some way I could get around that.

“I could really use you guys’ help,” I said after I finished telling my story.

“Of course,” Serif answered, “If there’s anything we can do, of course we’ll help.”

“Hold up,” Malif butted in, pulling up a chair, “I see where this is going. It seems you have a feud with Jarl Aria.”

“You’re no fan of hers either though, right?”

“Yes, but we don’t kill ponies. We leave that to the Dark Brotherhoof,” Malif said, “If you want Jarl Aria dead, you’ll have to take care of it yourself.”

“He’s right,” Serif said, “No matter how much we dislike the Jarl, we would never go as far as assassinating her.”

“Of course not,” I said, “I know that. But, you don’t want her in power any more than I do. Perhaps we could find a way to replace her as Jarl.”

“How?” Malif complained, “The Thieves Guild doesn’t have as much pull in Splitten as it used to, and even if it did, there’s no way anypony could convince Jarl Aria to step down. Besides, who would take her place? All the nobles are as corrupt as she is.”

“Not exactly,” Vespers’s voice came from behind, nearly startling me out of my seat.

“What do you mean?” Serif asked curiously.

“Arband, the Jarl’s nephew,” Vespers explained in his chilling voice, “He is not like his aunt. Though he is part of the royal court, he refuses to enjoy the benefits of it. He is very vocal against Aria’s policies, and he often steals from the Jarl’s storehouses to provide for the poor. If anypony would make a good Jarl, it would be him.”

“So, how do we make that happen?” I asked eagerly.

“Most of the nobles in Aria’s court only follow her and grovel to her because she has the power,” Vespers said, “She has few true friends. If she could be forced to abdicate her throne to Arband, the other nobles would flock to him instead.”

“And just how are we going to get her to abdicate?” I asked.

“It’s easy,” Vespers said with a cold smile, “We’re going to start a revolution.”

I laid low for the next few days, surfacing only long enough to let my friends know what was going on. While I hid from Jarl Aria’s guards, they and the Thieves Guild members helped spread the word that soon there might be a new Jarl in power, one that sincerely cared for the poor. Support was overwhelming (or so I was told,) but one thing remained. Arband still needed to be convinced to lead the revolution.

So, after three days of honing my lockpicking and alchemy skill, I finally was allowed to leave the Ragged Flagon. Vespers and Serif were coming as well, along with some of the more prominent ponies that would meet us once we left the Ratway. There was a small boat waiting for us outside of the sewers, and we climbed in at once and set sail down the canal in the moonlight.

We were guided through the waters until a lantern appeared in the distance. From its light, we could see a group of beggars gathered around a pony in a cloak. A white muzzle tinted blue only slightly protruded from the cloak, and the pony it belonged to spoke softly as he passed out food and clothing to the beggars around him. We left the boat a short distance down the docks and proceeded on hoof toward the lamplight.

“Lord Arband,” one of the ponies in our group, a mare nominated by the dockworkers to represent them, spoke up as we approached the cloaked figure, “Fear not, we simply wish to speak with you.”

The cloaked figure still looked like bolting, so we all removed our weapons and set them aside as a symbol of peace. The pony seemed to relax only a bit, and pulled the hood off of his head, revealing the stallion I’d seen in Misttail Keep standing apart from the others. Arband appeared guarded, though curious as to why we’d seek him out.

“Who are you?” he asked, trying to project some authority into his voice.

“Concerned members of the community,” Vespers spoke, “Like you. My associate here and I represent the Thieves Guild.”

“I speak for the ponies who work the docks all day,” the first mare announced.

“I, the ponies who dwell in the slums of Dryside,” a stallion who’d joined us said.

“And I speak for the beggars who live around the canal,” the final member of our group announced.

“And you?” Arband asked, looking to me, “Who do you speak for?”

“Well, myself mostly,” I answered, “I just don’t like seeing where Splitten is headed.”

“Wait, I know you,” he said, rubbing his chin, “You’re the pony that killed the dragon and who killed Sage.”

“Right, that’s me,” I said not all enthusiastic about my second “accomplishment.”

“Then I do believe I have you to thank for helping out those orphans,” he said, surprising me, “I tried to have Sage taken away from the orphanage, but my aunt wouldn’t touch her. I can’t commend killing her, but there’s no doubt you may have saved some of those foals’ lives with what you did.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I said.

“Well then,” he said, turning to speak to the entire group again, “Why is it you wanted to speak to me, and in such a dire place?”

“You know as well as we do that Splitten is rotting from the inside,” Vespers spoke for the group, “Jarl Aria feasts in Misttail Keep while the poor starve outside its doors. If something isn’t done soon, Splitten will erupt into war and unrest.”

“We both do our parts to keep this city alive, taking from the rich and corrupt and giving to the poor and needy, but it’s not enough anymore. Unless there’s real change in Splitten, it won’t last much longer. But for real change to happen, it must be done from the top, not from the shadows.”

“What are you saying exactly?” Arband asked.

“The ponies of Splitten want you to be Jarl instead of Aria,” the dockworker mare answered, “They’ve seen your generosity and kindness firsthoof, and they know you care about them and not just yourself. They are willing to fight to place you on the throne if need be.”

“No, I don’t want a war,” Arband objected, “I don’t want bloodshed and revolution. I may despise my aunt’s policies, but she’s still family. I don’t want her dead.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Vespers reassured him, “We only intend to press with our force until Jarl Aria gives in and abdicates her throne. All you need to do is support the movement by speaking to the townsponies and be ready to take the throne when Aria abdicates it.”

Arband bit his lip, thinking hard about the implications his actions could have. I could see him wrestling with the decision in his mind before coming to a conclusion.

“All right,” he said, “I’m in.”

It was two days later that the citizens of Splitten took to the streets. The guards were pushed back to the Keep, and injuries were minor. The other planners of the rebellion and I moved around through the crowd in plain clothes, encouraging the demonstrators without drawing attention to ourselves.

A few of the Splitten guard defected to our cause, but the majority stayed where they were, drawing up battle lines in front of Misttail Keep. Jarl Aria had rewarded them generously for their loyalty. However, even with most of Splitten’s guard force barricading the center of Splitten’s government, the crowd began to push forward, reaching the steps by dusk.

Through the night, the crowd of angry ponies continued their disobedience, keeping anypony from entering or leaving the keep. Scuffles broke out from time to time, but thankfully there were no casualties, only wounds from fights with the guards. Mephalda and Mystic helped tend to those, keeping to the back where the wounded were brought.

It was nearly dawn by the time chaos broke loose. Somepony had antagonized one of the guards too much, and she’d cut the demonstrator down with her sword. The townsponies around her instantly converged, beating her to the ground, and fighting began to break out along the line.

I tried to stop it, but it was no use. The crowd was churned up into a frenzy, and they wouldn’t stop until the guards were dead. Those at the top of the steps, protected by wooden barricades, began to shoot flaming arrows into the crowd, hoping to disperse things. Instead, the townsponies became even angrier and began to cry for the death of every guard.

A few tried to make their way up the stairs, but were quickly shot down by the crack shot archers. Eventually, they gave up on scaling the stairs for the moment, and the guards ceased firing their bows, only using them to keep ponies away from any advance to the keep’s doors. The revolutionaries were about to try another assault when the keep’s doors burst open.

“Stop!” Arband called from the top of the stairs.

Though a few of the guards turned to look at him, most of them kept their sights fixed on the crowd below, bows held at the ready. In his hoof, Arband held a scroll triumphantly. He unrolled it and held it up for all to see.

“Jarl Aria has abdicated her throne!” he announced, “Let’s put this fighting to an end! As Splitten’s Jarl, I order you to stand down.”

The guards dropped their weapons, kneeling to their new Jarl, and a cheer went up from the crowd. I couldn’t believe we’d actually done it! We’d put Jarl Arband in power, and deposed his corrupt aunt. And we’d done so in a mostly nonviolent way.

As the crowd of ponies began to disperse from in front of Misttail Keep, plans were discussed for a celebration. Soon a makeshift festival was put together in the town square to celebrate the ousting of Aria. After I retrieved my possessions from the Ragged Flagon, I joined in the festivities with my friends.

“What’s this all about?” I heard a voice ask from behind me.

Turning around, I saw the tan-coated pony who’d asked the question. He was dressed in Stormcloud armor, and behind him stood eight Stormcloud soldiers, looking around longingly at the festivities, but staying in formation.

“Hello Bereloth,” I greeted him, “What brings you here?”

“Jarl Stormcloud has tasked me with recruiting more soldiers for the Stormcloud army,” he said proudly, “Splitten’s my last stop before we head out to Foalkreath. Say, I don’t suppose you and your friends would tag along with us? We could always use a few more good swords.”

“I don’t see why not,” I told the first pony I’d met upon entering Horizon.

“Great,” he replied, “I’ll let you know when we head out.”