Magnus was, understandably, upset with the way the night had been going. Not only had he been called back to the castle on his only day off that week, but when he found out that his post had been penetrated and his charge desecrated... well, his displeasure had only grown.
He muttered quietly as he yanked on his peytral and secured his spear. Not only did it look bad on the Guard in general, but it looked bad on him. He had been assigned to the position. He had watched over the plot diligently. He had protected the grave of whatever hero had been laid to rest.
And he had gone out for a swim on his day off while the castle was infiltrated, the Guard embarrassed, and the grave robbed.
With a soft grunt, he marched out of the barracks and turned towards the gardens. If they couldn't do their jobs, he would have to do it for them.
-~oOo~-
Slinking away after startling the creature had been easier than she had anticipated, thanks (in no small part) to it having a remarkably brutal kick that had sent her flying. Being hit by the falling spear it had thrown... well, that was an unpleasant occurrence, but such things happened, she supposed.
On the upside, despite being considerably slower now with her broken ribs, she had acquired a weapon she was fully capable of using. The spear, really little more than a glorified stick with a bladed end, had proven remarkably easy to disassemble. Whatever these creatures were, they evidently took great pride in maintaining their weapons - the spearhead had only taken a few sharp twists to unscrew.
Grinning as she scuttled along, her new 'staff' lashed to her back with a twist of her severed intestines, she slunk from one piece of cover to the next, ever wary of revealing herself.
Finally coming to rest under a leafy outcropping of some powder-white flower, she grew still to observe the creatures that continued to flood the area.
Since her impromptu diversion, a number of the winged ones had shown up, making a clean escape seem less and less likely. The 'normal' looking ones seemed straightforward enough to handle: a few quick hits, maybe a lucky slash or two with her finger bones, and they should be dispatched. The winged ones though.... those she wasn't quite sure about. For one thing, they seemed to be remarkably quick. Not only had she seen them winging around the garden, but she had seen how quickly they had wheeled on her earlier opponent. While they weren't nearly as heavily armored, they seemed to have more than made up for it in agility and speed.
She frowned as one of the newcomers swung a lantern in her direction, narrowly missing her hiding spot as it scanned the surroundings for her likely hiding place. A few quick blows with her mace would have taken out its wings... for that matter, a single smite or a brief column of holy fire would have reduced them to a mangled mess. As it was, however, she feared she would have to improvise against her much more mobile adversaries.
A series of bright flashes caused her to flinch as she squinted into the clearing. One of the horned ones had just done something, leaving her perplexed. It was no spell she recognized, and certainly not an attack she was familiar with, but it had left a set of faintly glowing wisps of smoke across the ground near itself.
Scowling at the unknown magic, she slowly edged further under the brush, trying not to make any sudden moves that might alert her stalkers. To her surprise, the foliage about her was roughly jerked aside as it lit with a bright blue glow.
Reflexively, she siphoned off a portion of her remaining mana, uttering an ancient and nearly forgotten word: shield. Instantly a faint golden film sluiced over her body, enveloping her in a bubble of protective light just as a startled yelp brought her location to the attention of the nearby creatures.
With a gasp of pain, her own startled shriek died before it even left her lips.... the feeble yellow glow in her empty eye sockets blinking out as quickly as her magic.
-~oOo~-
Magnus stared down at the charred thing at his hooves.
There could be no doubt about it - whatever it was it, most certainly, did not belong within the garden.
The creature, for lack of a better term, looked as it if had been killed, torn apart, lit on fire, drenched in oil, rolled in grime, and then left to rot in the sun for a few weeks before being buried and summarily exhumed. Parts of it were clearly missing, the most obvious being whatever had previously resided below its shattered ribcage, while other segments seemed eerily intact. It had the tattered remains of what he could only guess had once been armor of some sort weakly draped over its shoulders, and what was clearly a partially disassembled spear tangled in some rope-like material near its lower half.
He had just decided to retrieve the spear when his eyes happened to trace the damaged cordage back up into the thing's ribcage. With an almost involuntary jerk, he pulled his muzzle back from what became suddenly clear as the creature's innards.
Whatever it was, the invader had clearly been interested in it. No sooner had the unicorn yelped out an alert than a faint golden glow had covered the thing before blinking out.
That would make their invader a unicorn. Blasted scum was probably miles away by now, likely to end up getting away scot-free.
With a huff, he called over the wing commander and told him to get a guard detail to secure the remains; whatever it was, if their invader wanted it, the Guard wanted it more.
He was just about to leave when a sickly sweet smell drew his attention to a nearby patch of wilted flowers. He leaned in, looking over their faded, dead petals and brittle stems before glancing at the plaque that read 'Lilies' in the golden glow of the lanterns scattered around the area.
"What a shame," he muttered, "the General must be finally feeling his age."
-~oOo~-
A blast of dragon fire, coupled with a belch any buffalo would be startled by, announced the arrival of the scroll which was expertly plucked from the air by a pair of purple claws. Without hesitation, Spike left the bowl of pancake batter and raced up the stairs in the wee hours of the morning to deliver his precious cargo to the half-conscious wreck of a princess he knew was sitting on the upstairs balcony.
Taking a moment to catch his breath, the little dragon coughed lightly to announce himself before walking up to Twilight.
"Twilight, um, the Princess sent a letter."
When she didn't respond, he slowly crept around to face her.
"Oh Twilight...." he sighed, carefully stowing the letter as he gently lay the sleeping alicorn down.
The letter could wait until morning.