Warm gusts of wind whistled past Sombra’s ears, jerking him out of his microsleep. He shook his head, clearing it of the fog that desperately called him back to sleep. In vain attempts to resist the desire to collapse and close his eyes, Sombra blinked several times in a very quick succession.
“I hate night shifts.” Nev yawned, rubbing his eyes and taking off his helmet. “Nevermind, I hate nights in general.”
“Who doesn’t?” Sombra took his helmet off and let the air brush his sweat-soaked mane. The spring was coming to an end and summer was looming on the horizon; its sweltering heat was already upon Granitza.
Out of all places they could have been guarding, Sombra and his squad got the most boring one: the eastern quarter of the town that had nothing in it except a few desolated and decrepit buildings, a handful of new ones and a pub.
“One of these nights, and I’ll chop off and cook my own balls.” Nev yawned again, putting his helmet aside and leaning against a crumbling, mossy wall. “Would be twice more fun than this.”
“I didn’t expect you to be that disgusting, Nev.” Sombra eyed the old ruins they chose as their temporary shelter for this night’s shift. The remains of what seemed to be a house reeked of wetness and rot — the wooden walls were crawling with parasites and the stone floor was covered with earth.
Local foals loved this place — who wouldn’t want to explore a ruined house as an imaginative child? In a second the old ruins turned into dangerous dungeons, white ants into monstrous demons. Their parents never shared their enthusiasm.
“Boredom turns me into a different person… Arrgh, they wouldn’t even give us a rifle! At least we’d do some target practice!” Nev murmured and swiped away a small insect that crawled onto his helmet.
“Yeah, like officers will gladly hoof out the most advanced weapons in the world to rookies like you.” Sombra cocked his head, peering at the starry sky in search of anything interesting.
He shared Nev’s concerns, though. Practicing with the crystal rifle back at Rubin’s house was great fun. Now, he only saw a rifle up close whenever their commanding officer Zvezda ordered him to charge it.
“Sounds logical,” Nev replied and looked up as well, sighing as the stars winked at them from high above. “Wanna go get something to drink?”
“Like?” Sombra levitated the helmet up and put it back on his head.
“Some kvass. Botchka keeps his pub open at night, as you’re well aware. Shall we?”
Sweet cold kvass. One of the most delicious beverages to grace the face of the world. Perfect for soldiers, since, while it contained alcohol, it was so little that it was virtually impossible to drink to intoxication.
“Well, why not? It’s not like anypony would want to steal these ruins.” Sombra shrugged and signalled Nev to lead the way. “But I’d love to see them try.”
As the two ponies headed out into the empty streets, the stars became even brighter, each and every one of them sparkling like drops of silver spilled on a dark canvas. A sudden flash of light pierced the sky; a shooting star flew across the darkness and disappeared into nothingness, leaving only a barely noticeable trail of sparks in its wake. Its beauty, however, went unnoticed by the two.
A tall wooden building with a small sign over the door reading The Golden Keg soon greeted Sombra and Nev with lights dancing in the windows. Sombra half expected to hear some noises and possibly a ruckus, but the pub was strangely quiet.
Nev pushed open the door, and Sombra felt warm air wash over him. The deliciously sour smell burrowed in the nostrils and left a sucking desire for a drink in his stomach. He heard Nev exchange some friendly greetings with the owner and quickly hurried inside.
“Brave soldiers! Feeling thirsty all of a sudden?” Botchka, a brown-colored pony with a greasy short mane and messy beard, smiled at his guests. Whenever he smiled, the scars that covered the most of the right side of his face would stretch so much, it seemed they were about to rip open. “What can I get you?”
As they sat down and Nev started a conversation with the old innkeeper, Sombra took a moment to look around. What a strange feeling — every time he came here, he always wanted to look around, as if something would change in the interior. But it was always the same old chairs, big round tables and, the most important part, a huge keg towering behind the barstand. It was the tavern’s namesake: made from gilded willow, a wood that never paled or turned dim.
Botchka would never miss a chance to tell his visitors how he got his hooves on such a magnificent work of art — and what a story it was. If Botchka was to be believed, he found the keg in the dungeons of a gryphonian lord, whose name was lost to time and fizzing ale, during his better days as a highwaypony. The only reminder he left behind was Botchka’s maimed face and a missing eyeball, which, according to Botchka, the gryphon crushed with his very claws.
However, despite its brilliant backstory, the keg wasn’t as interesting to most visitors as the heads of white alphas killed by the hunters hanging on the wall. When drinks were served, Sombra drank just a few sips and turned to the empty eyes of the beasts, staring at him from the wall.
These trophies were a rather bitter reminder of his first encounter with the white alpha as well as the fact that it was never caught and had never appeared afterwards. It seemed as though the wolves retreated and left Granitza alone forever.
“Scary beasties, aren’t they?” Botchka chirped, hoofing the soldiers their cups. “Perfect for fairytales. Puts the little ones to sleep perfectly.”
“More like makes them piss their beds.” Nev gulped from his cup and licked his lips. “And I wouldn’t blame them.”
For a moment both soldiers drowned their muzzles in their drinks and a weary silence loomed in the tavern. Only the whistling of the wind and the crackling of burning logs in the fireplace would disturb it. The warm air was like a blanket and it made Sombra feel sleepy.
“Any news from the outside world? Just wondering.” Sombra drowned his yawn in kvass. “It’s been a while since anything interesting happened.”
“Hey, if waking up at first daylight to march for the entire day and then getting a night shift is boring for you, I’d rather not hear what you find exciting! I want my sanity intact, thank you very much.” Nev joked, turning to Botchka. “But he has a point. Anything new in the world?”
“I’d offer you some gossip spreading throughout the town, but you’re way too sober for that.” Botchka scratched his scars. “A caravan with supplies arrived at the town hall. Probably preparing for another of Crumbled Paper’s banquets.”
When Botchka said that name, both Nev and Sombra spat on the ground in disgust. The governor of Granitza had earned himself the reputation of a ghost. He rarely appeared in public, and when he did, he was always followed by a couple of guards and high-class administrative officials of Granitza. In short, a bunch of thugs and a couple of retarded idiots who couldn’t tell a wolf from a tree. They were especially loathed among soldiers for their love for inspections and complaints on spending. Though, scrupulosity and love for money were a necessary trait for an earth pony.
“And who’s that earth-digging scum going to invite this time?” Nev gritted his teeth, a little drop of sweat running down his neck. If he got any more angry, it might just vaporize instantly. “I swear, if he organizes a parade right before the Summer Festival, I’ll personally throw his ass back into Dirtville.”
“What if it’s during the festival?” Sombra smirked, earning a hateful glance from Nev.
“Then I’m going to murder him.”
“We’ve got a coup on our hooves here.” The bartender stiffled a giggle. “I don’t know whether he’s going to throw a parade or not, but I’m pretty sure he’s receiving some important guests. Maybe our revered Lord decided to show up for a change.”
“You think so? It’d help if I actually knew what he looks like.” Nev finished his drink and smiled. “He’s probably ugly as all Abyss if he never shows up in public.”
“All nobles are ugly. Not necessarily on the outside,” Sombra murmured under his breath, pushing the empty cup away from himself. “How about we switch the subject? All this parading and banquet shit is making me depressed.”
“And we don’t want you to be brooding any more than you already do, eh?” Nev always knew how to lighten up the mood. Or make it twice as dark. He couldn’t usually distinguish between the two. “Since I mentioned Summer Festival, how are the preparations, Botchka?”
“They couldn’t be any better! I’ve got at least ten barrels of fresh ale just waiting to be chugged. It’s going to be a blast.” Botchka was always welcoming for any celebrations. He’d even share booze for free if he trusted you enough. “But don’t worry, for you soldier guys, I’ve got a bottle of the finest vodka ready. It’ll be ice cold when the time comes.”
“Oh, we will be ready, believe me!” Nev exclaimed with a satisfied grin. “Just make sure not to let Bulat near it, like last time.”
“Oooh, please don’t make me remember. I’m still having nightmares about having to carry him to the barracks.”
“And having to listen to his jokes! By the Emperor, a real comedian died in that pony. And have been dead long enough to smell rather foul.” Nev laughed and got up. “Alright, I think we’ve been sitting here for long enough. Let’s go.”
Sombra silently nodded and tossed a few gold coins on the table. Botchka would definitely let them drink free of charge, but everypony deserved a proper compensation, Sombra always thought to himself. With their thirst satisfied, they walked out into the night, back to patrolling the empty streets. Thankfully, their efforts of guarding absolutely nothing would soon be rewarded by the Summer Festival.
***
The loud buzzing of the crowd was quite rare in the usually empty Granitza. So were the many displays filled to the brim with weird wooden toys, exquisite homemade food or pretty clothes and dresses. During the Summer Festival, all of it was present, even if for a short time.
Sombra and his entire squad of 12 ponies were assigned to patrol the streets and catch troublemakers on this sunny day. Officer Zvezda ordered each one of them to follow a separate route — that way, they could cover more ground, in his opinion.
Sombra didn’t mind being alone for this instance; he wanted to browse some goods on his own anyway. He didn’t have an exact target in mind, but anything that would make life in the barracks a bit livelier would do.
His eyes were mostly drawn to displays of food and jewellery, but occasionally Sombra would stop near a tiny stage and watch a short spectacle. Usually it would be a short scene from an ancient legend played by extremely unprofessional actors. Either sounding extremely bored and detached or dramatically overdoing their role, they provided a good laugh for a second or two, then the crowd would disperse be on their ways.
Sombra took a moment to buy a loaf of freshly baked bread from a stand and continued on his merry way, munching some of it. A thousand times better than the gruel we get in the barracks’ canteen, Sombra thought to himself. As he was walking, the crowds around him became thicker until he reached a big open plaza, with a stage placed in the centre. The construction was shoddy, made in haste and probably couldn’t hold more than five ponies.
He stopped for a moment to look at the stage. The big red curtain that served as the background had several patches of different colours in it. There were heaps of white cloth everywhere on stage, and a fake sun made of carton hanging on a rope above.
Each year, the same show would be performed on this very same stage for everypony’s amusement — the recreation of the old legend of Winter and Summer. In the first act, the Winter, usually played by a stallion in a wolf’s costume representing white alpha, would come out and try to frighten the crowd with the promises of endless blizzards and the army of wolves. Then Summer, usually represented by a young mare dressed in all things green, would tell the Winter off, usually in rhyme.
The cheesiness and cheapness of the performance was baffling to Sombra. He could never watch it in its entirety without cringing. But for most ponies this was the most anticipated part of the Festival. Perhaps it lifted up their spirits, let them know that winter was over and it was time to relax and stop fearing for their lives.
For Sombra, this was a mockery of winter, a failed attempt at relieving those who managed to survive — but to each his own, as they said. Sombra preferred to dedicate his time to something else entirely.
“Hello!” A familiar mellow voice suddenly shouted in his ear. Sombra shuddered a little before regaining his composure and turning to the source of it.
A young mare around the age of sixteen was standing right beside him, smiling. A grey mane framed her pretty face. Her cheeks rosy a faint blush, she was looking straight into Sombra’s eyes.
“Silver? I, uh, wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He murmured, turning his sight away. Next thing he knew, Silver leaned on him and burrowed her muzzle in his mane. “Agh! What are you doing?”
“Come on, big guy, don’t be an ass,” she purred, wrapping her forelegs around his neck. “I know you’re happy to see me.”
“Just not when you cling to me like that.” Sombra gently escaped her embraces. “I thought we agreed upon this. What we had was a one night stand, not a sign of a stable and healthy relationship. Please, keep that in mind.”
“What, you’re afraid of scaring away my future husband? You’re being too harsh on yourself, you’re not that ugly.” Silver grinned, sticking her tongue a bit. Sombra couldn’t help but sneer at the remark.
A pony standing nearby angrily gazed at Sombra and Silver, prompting them both to look back.
“Thank you for such invaluable input into my rumour box, thank you very much, now please could you both discuss your affairs as far away from here as fucking possible?!” The stranger looked rather sanguinary, so Sombra didn’t tempt fate and ignored his injured pride.
“Sorry for troubling you.” He bowed his head, turning away from the angry eavesdropper. “I need to go. I’ve got a job to do.” Then, he turned around and started forcing his way through the thickening wall of ponies. Despite Sombra’s intimidating look, stature and soldier’s uniform, ponies just didn’t seem to notice until he had squeezed through, usually prompting an angry remark or a comment about how rotten, disgusting and non-orthodox the colts were nowadays from the elderly.
He could hear Silver calling out to him, probably asking him to slow down but instead he pressed onwards. Hopefully, she would get the hint and move on with her life — for her own sake, at least.
Only when Sombra was out of the rag fair, he could take a deep breath and relax. Coming to the plaza was clearly not the brightest of ideas he could have had. Meeting Silver here was even more unfortunate. His consciousness was still screaming at him for leaving her like that, but Sombra knew he did the right thing.
Safe from the noise of the crowd — which gradually grew quieter every step he took — Sombra paused for a moment and looked at the wall protecting the town and wondered what it would be like to live on the opposite side of it. He’d asked himself that question a thousand times already but it kept coming back. There was a whole world out there and he was still here.
Driving away the pseudo-philosophic dribble from his mind, Sombra perked up and headed straight for Golden Keg. If he was lucky, he’d be the first of his squad to arrive to the “improvised field headquarters”. When Sombra and his friends told Zvezda about the little surprise Botchka prepared for them, he’d immediately changed the point where they’d meet after their rounds to the tavern.
Pretty soon it was in Sombra’s sight. As much as Sombra could make out from the distance, it was quiet inside, which meant he’d arrived first. Delighted, Sombra trotted inside, pushing open the door.
“Hey, Botchka!” he exclaimed immediately upon entering, but no friendly reply followed. The answer was only silence. Rather curious by that, Sombra looked around the tavern; there was nopony at the tables, nopony behind the counter. It looked as though the pub was completely empty.
Sombra swallowed nervously, mentally preparing himself for anything, be it robbers or wild animals. A good innkeeper like Botchka would never leave his establishment open unless he was ready to provide services. There was something very off about this. Treading quietly, Sombra proceeded deeper into the tavern, until he heard voices coming from downstairs, from the cellar.
Sighing with relief and irritation, Sombra eased up and quickly descended down via a passage deep within the tavern, behind the golden keg.
The cold damp air filled his lungs, creeping down his throat like a gulp of ice-cold water. The green moist moss covering some parts of the stone wall glistened in the warming light of an oil lamp. Big oiled barrels took the most space of the cellar; the remainders were filled with spare chairs and tables. Sombra scanned the room and found the source of the familiar voices in the very corner.
“And then he says - breathe, idiot! Breathe!” boomed the loudest voice in the company. It was impossible not to recognize Zvezda’s speech — his loud hoarse baritone was perfect for the pony of his position. “Oh! Look who just got here!”
Ten rather intoxicated-looking muzzles turned to Sombra, all beaming with excitement. Sombra eyed them with a drop of scorn.
“So this is what I get for doing my duty, eh?” he grumbled, walking towards the table. Most present snickered at him, Zvezda only put up a shit-eating smile. “Ya bunch of drunk dicks.”
“Hey, I take offense to that. I’m not drunk.” Nev smiled as the crowd burst into laughter. Even Sombra couldn’t help it.
Without further ado, Zvezda poured Sombra a cup of vodka, welcoming him into the delightful world of insane blabbering and horrible headaches. With slight enthusiasm, Sombra accepted the cup from his commanding officer and drank the entire cup dry. It was proper to down the first drink in one go, then you could just go on your own pace.
Sombra didn’t rightly know the origins of this tradition. Perhaps it was to level the playing field for the oncoming conversations — to make all ponies present equally smart. Or stupid.
“Ugh, darn…” Sombra coughed, the cold vodka streaming down his throat leaving a burning sensation. The pony on his left passed him a small slice of bread, which he quickly swallowed almost without chewing. When the burning stopped, he let out a sigh of relief.
“Where have you been wandering for so long?” Bulat leaned on the table, looking at him. “And don’t say about patrol, I’m not buying that.”
“He probably went shopping, like a damn housewife.” Zvezda smirked evilly, peering at Sombra like a vulture. “What’dya bring back this time, honey? A new spoon? I’d love a new spoon.”
“I wanted to buy something, but… never got to it. Just ended up walking around.” Sombra kept rubbing his temples in vain hope of driving away the slight dizziness.
“Well, the festival will go on for a few days; you’ll still be able to get something later.” The pony with dark-blue mane and a red ribbon tied to his ear — which he was wearing all the time for reasons he never explained — said. His actual name was Chern, but everypony just called him Ribbon.
“Come to think of it, it’d be great if we could redecorate the barracks,” said the one sitting right next to Bulat, a pony with chestnut coat and mane of the same colour. Sombra did know his name but never bothered to remember it, they never talked that much.
“Shopping, decorating…” Nev snickered, looking at Sombra. “Come on, be fair, who’ve you set your preying eyes upon?” Other ponies quickly turned their eyes to Sombra.
“I didn’t. You may or may not believe it, but I was actually just taking a stroll.” Nopony believed him. Nopony would believe him even if he was telling the truth. There was no point in hiding anything. “Okay, maybe I met somepony and talked to her for a moment or two.”
“Really? I thought you could manage more than a moment or two.” Bulat’s remark sent some ponies present into a laughing fit.
“Seriously, Bulat, it’s always crude humour with you all the time! Be original for a change.” Nev exclaimed, facehoofing. “One day your jokes will kill me, I’m sure of it.”
“It’s way funnier than your metaphysical stuff, Nev.” Orthoclase joined the conversation, much to Nev’s disappointment.
“I’m sorry for making my jokes too complicated for you, my dear! I’ll try to be less clever next time.”
The discussion raged on as more and more joined in to discuss the nature of a good joke in their own unique way — by trying to outshout each other, in hopes of getting the point across through sheer volume. However, all the happy banter ended immediately when Zvezda struck the table with terrifying force.
“Done bickering? Good. I’ve got a toast.” He grabbed the bottle once more and poured a small amount into each cup. “This one’s mandatory.”
Everypony raised their cups, waiting for Zvezda to deliver his rousing speech. Whether it was before training or before drinking, it was always short and always hit the spot.
“Comrades, there have been many dark days in our service. We had to endure through winter, protect our fellow ponies from ferocious beasts and still manage to survive ourselves. But we endured all of it. We’re strong, my friends, we won’t be broken, we can’t be broken. Yet I still drink to your strength…” He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “To endure the welcoming parade next week. Ura, comrades.”
Zvezda emptied his cup while others stared at him in disbelief, disappointment and a slight touch of uncontrollable killing rage. Then, they clinked their cups and drank everything, silently.
“Talk about fucking irony.” Nev whispered to Sombra, who smirked in reply.
“Alright, ladies, let’s get going. We’ve got a whole week ahead of us, so we’ve got a lot of time to prepare. Don’t even think about killing yourself before the parade — I’ll dig up your corpses and make you regret ever dying in the first place. Understand?” Officer Zvezda’s threats were always partially amusing and partially nightmarish. But out of all officers Sombra could have served under, he wouldn’t pick a different one than him.
“Yessir!” The soldiers shouted in unison, preparing to venture back outside and accomplish their duty of protecting the city, upholding the law and not dying of boredom in the process.
***
“One! Two! One-two-three!”
Zvezda’s loud voice reverberated in Sombra’s ears. The sound of drums accompanying it made it feel like a full scale siege of one’s brainpan, a very organized and well-planned one.
“Come on, colts, we ain’t on a funeral! Sing on my command!”
The drums were accompanied by the triumphantly blasting trumpets. Their pompous resonance dominated the already noisy plaza, and yet even it yielded to the power of the one hundred voices that formed a powerful chorus. The song was simple in its construction and had even simpler meaning: to praise the arriving guest.
Sombra felt extremely sick today, for no particular reason. But even standing by his friends and compatriots, all dressed in the fanciest armour their little garrison could manage to get, caused his throat to constrict to stop the bile from spilling. Anything he saw as he marched onwards, keeping in rhythm with everypony else, birthed so many cynical comments Sombra wondered if he turned into Nev for a moment.
As if by coincidence, the summer was in full power on this accursed day — the heat was unbearable, especially in black cloaks they had to wear. A soldier might look stone-faced on a parade, but underneath that stoic mask was a pony screaming internally for this damned parade to end as fast as possible.
The collumn of soldiers stopped their march in the middle of the plaza, continuing to stomp out the melody for their song, even as the drums and trumpets grew quiet. Then, a loud command, growled by the leading officer, ordered everypony to be quiet.
“Alright, guys,” Zvezda whispered to his subordinates, still trying to preserve a straight face. “We’ve got the ‘honour’ of standing in the first row, so don’t fuck this up. I need you to be at the top of your game today.”
His quiet command was met with quiet disapproval. None of his squad, not a single soul, looked forward to what would happen next.
“I owe you all a drink… Two drinks.”
The eleven ponies all replied with a loud ‘ura’ to such an offer. Thinking it was part of the program, all other soldiers joined them in the loud celebration.
Underneath the black cloak, Sombra felt as if his skin was slowly peeling off, boiling into a mass of bloody goo. The sweat was dripping down his body, the non-too-pleasant aroma of body odour assaulting his nose, mostly coming from ponies next to him. His mane clung to his face, especially underneath the helmet. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Sombra felt a biting pain in his stomach, making it really feel like he was about to get sick.
To drive his mind away from unpleasant physical details, Sombra examined his surroundings: the town was clearly prepared for the Lord’s visit. The roads were cleaner than usual, the buildings near the roads and in the centre were properly painted in just a matter of a few days. Too bad it was only for looks — the inside of the newly painted houses would probably be still as rotten as it was before.
Ponies that were brave and curious enough to come out all bunched up in small groups and stuck as far as possible from the parading soldiers, to avoid any trouble. Most, however, stuck inside their little wooden boxes and leaned out of windows, observing the parade with interest.
Just as Sombra started considering bludgeoning himself to death with his own helmet, the sound of hooves striking the ground along with the creaking wheels reached his ears. Everypony perked up for a moment, turning to the source of the sound.
A fancy looking stagecoach, towed by two feral-looking ponies, creaked and squeaked its way to the center of the plaza. The golden ornaments on its doors and sides were covered in thick layers of mud and dust, the flag on the back of the stagecoach was blackened and stained with dirt and, even from where he was, Sombra could see small cracks in the wood.
The plaza shook as the drums and trumpets blazed once more, lauding the arrival of the stagecoach. The musicians weren’t half-bad, probably very well paid — after all, there was no obstacle that could stop Crumbled Paper from sucking up.
The door of the stagecoach swung open and Crumbled Paper climbed out, carefully watching his step. His sickly body shuddered at the touch of the wind, even despite the sunny weather, and he pranced in one place to warm himself up before finally assuming the prideful stature of an announcer.
“Loyal subjects of our beloved and venerable Emperor Lux, peaceful residents of the town of Granitza! I, your respected governor, Crumbled Paper, am proud to announce the arrival of Lord Radiant!” Paper mustered all his strength to make himself be heard. He spoke slowly, enunciating every word, and yet sometimes a slight shiver sneaked in.
The sight of this weak earth pony, his carefully styled dark-brown mane and sleek chestnut coat was enough to make the locals cringe. But when he started speaking... that was when Sombra felt truly bored. It felt as though at any point Paper would stop talking and Radiant would take a step out of his little stagecoach and into the real world, but he kept on talking… and talking… and talking.
How come ponies that are interesting, witty, funny or just plain enjoyable to listen to have to be silent in the presence of the one who might as well be mute, Sombra thought to himself. Slowly his mind was drifting away from the real world and in a few moments he couldn’t hear Crumbled Paper at all — he was too deep in thought.
He heard a few angry whispers, but didn’t pay attention to them, instead wondering how to spend the rest of this day, hoping that this event would end soon. Really, he’d rather be anywhere than here.
“You! H-h-how dare you!” Sombra suddenly heard Crumbled’s voice, shaking with fury, right in his face. Dragged out of his thoughts he quickly found himself face to face with the earth pony who had to look up in order to meet his eyes.
Sombra felt a chill run up his spine and barely managed to keep his emotionless mask up. So many curses were gathering in his lungs, all directed at himself. How could he let his guard down, especially at such an important moment? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now he was going to be crucified, and he wouldn’t even know why. Did he miss a salute? Was he asked a question? Did he not hail when he was supposed to?
“A Lord is the Emperor’s right h-h-hand! You’re offending the Emperor himself, you b-b-baffoon!” It looked as though Crumbled Paper was just as nervous as Sombra, only he had to speak. “I knew you stinking savages had no shame, b-b-but this is just ri-...ridi...-ridicilous!”
His stuttering was only made worse by the fact that he spat every time he tried to express anger. If this was to continue, Sombra would be soaked by sweat and saliva.
“Sir, I’m so…” Sombra tried to take the first step to resolving the conflict, in the vain hope that Crumbled Paper would be content with having him humiliated in public, but his plans were shattered into dust as he felt a heavy strike to his cheek. Well, it was supposed to be a heavy strike, but Crumbled wasn’t really strong.
“Don’t speak unless spoken to, you b-b-barbarian! You vandal! H-h-hooligan!”
Sombra’s eye twitched as his desire of ripping Paper’s insides out of his mouth and then choking him with them grew alarmingly. Despite being right next to him, Crumbled Paper was hidden behind a wall so thick not even a battering ram could destroy it — the wall of inequality. He was protected, Sombra wasn’t.
“But I was spoken to, sir.” He went for round two. Maybe a little common logic would pour a vat of cold water on Paper’s boiling anger. “You spoke to m…”
Another strike. This one felt a bit more hurtful, because it was expected. And it was a sign that common logic didn’t work in this situation.
“Sh-sh-sh-shut up! Shut up!” Paper growled through his teeth, which made him spit even more than before. Sombra closed his eyes in an attempt to contain his anger.
He was humiliated in front of his friends. The entire town. He’d be a laughing stock for entire months, maybe even years, just because he got distracted. It just couldn’t get any worse.
“And even now you’re still asleep, you m-m-moron! You’ll be strung for this, I swear!” The strike didn’t connect this time. Sombra predicted it and dodged it with ease.
Then, he delivered a strike of his own.
As Crumbled Paper rolled over in the dust, groaning in pain, vainly trying to stop the blood flowing from the broken nose, Sombra realized he underestimated his own strength and Paper’s ability to take a punch. Also, he just probably signed his own death warrant.
A shocked sigh flew through the air, all ponies present averting their gazes from Sombra to Crumbled Paper. Instead of one shattered reputation, they got two today. Quite a record for Granitza.
“Whuh… you… you!” Crumbled Paper rattled in helpless fury, slowly getting up from the ground. His face was smeared with blood and it was still streaming down his muzzle and dripping on the ground — a rather gruesome sight. “You’re dead! I’ll have you executed! You’ll…”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence, for a huge bag made of black leather hit him right in the back of the head. Once more he slumped back down on the ground, pinned by the seemingly massive weight of the bag. Dumbstruck, Sombra looked to where the bag had come from and his boiling blood froze at the sight of the offender in a matter of seconds.
The door of the stagecoach was open and an elegant mare gracefully stepped outside. Her sapphire mane framing the insidious grin on her face; the dark violet coat mostly concealed by a thin, black and scarlet cloak — Sombra had never forgotten her. She came to him in nightmares.
“I thought I said catch!” Larissa giggled, trotting over to the fallen earth pony. “Or were you too busy shouting at this poor soldier?”
Crumbled Paper could only muster a few moans. The pain was probably unbearably for a pony of his complexion. Sighing playfully, Larissa used her magic to lift the bag and put it aside.
“He- he has insulted his majesty.” He finally spoke when he stood up, holding a hoof at his nose to stop the bleeding. “And he assaulted me! He must be punished.”
Larissa looked at the dumbstruck soldier, her eyes widening. Swiftly shifting to Sombra’s side, she looked him dead in the eyes, her smile widening with each passing moment.
“Oh, Crumbly, assaulting you is such a heinous crime! The Empire wouldn’t stand losing a fine asset such as you… Why, not just the Empire! The entire world! Our poor little world would just fall into the depths of the Abyss if poor Crumbled Paper was to suddenly pass away.” She moaned in feigned concern. Then, she once more turned her gaze to Sombra. “You’re such a bad boy! My, you have no shame! No shame at all!”
She turned around, still smiling, her tail brushing Sombra’s cheek briefly.
“I shall choose the punishment for this soldier. From now on, he’s in my personal care.” Crumbled Paper looked mighty shocked and very disappointed as the words left Larissa’s mouth. This wasn’t the outcome he’d expected, not at all.
“L-L-Lady Inquisitor, with all due r-r-respect… I believe it would be better if the judgement was handled by Lord Radiant… I th-th-think…”
“So, my authority, granted to me by the Emperor and the Grand Inquisitor, no longer matter just because you th-th-think?” Larissa smugly giggled at her own parody of the stuttering fool.
“B-B-But...b-b-but…”
“Butt? You have two already — one for your behind, the other’s for your face, why would you need another?” Larissa chuckled at the cringe-worthiness of it. “If you’re in such a dire need of Radiant’s approval, run off to him. He’ll confirm that I have more authority over this entire town than you have over own body, it seems.”
Looking crestfallen, Crumbled Paper looked around and retreated back to the stagecoach, his shoulders slumped. This wasn’t of any help to Sombra, though, as he was now face to face with the demon of his past.
“Hello, sugar. Long time no see,” Larissa cooed gently into Sombra’s ear. Then, she took a step back and eyed the large crowd of soldiers, who were still standing there waiting, their emotionless masks still on. “And what are you all waiting for? The parade’s over, you’re all dismissed.”
There was no reaction. The soldiers stood as if nothing happened. Larissa sighed and took off the clasp that kept her cloak on her shoulders, holding it into the air.
“I, Larissa of the Inquisition command you: this parade is over and you’re all dismissed!” The clasp, a sun with spears jutting out around it like rays of light, was proof enough to the officers that she, indeed, belonged to the Inquisition. The officers shouted their commands, preparing to march home.
“Run off now, sugar. I’ll catch you later.” Larissa whispered into Sombra’s ear, pushed him back into the line and hurried back into the stagecoach, not forgetting to levitate her heavy bag along with her.
As the soldiers walked back to the barracks, Sombra didn’t talk to anypony, and nopony approached him. They all needed a little time to let everything that happened sink into their heads. But Sombra was having much bigger problems.
Memories were slowly flooding back into his mind, memories of his past life. They all were brought by the devil in the black corset.
Slowly marching along with the rest, Sombra wondered if it would be a good idea to drown everything in ale. Perhaps somepony would join him so he wouldn’t look as pathetic. But these were thoughts for later. Right now, he just wanted to lie down in his bed and snuggle the pillow and dream, dream, dream this disgusting day away.
***
“Come on, Sombs, don’t be like that.” Nev leaned over his full cup which he hadn’t touched ever since they’d sat down. “It can’t be that big of an issue.”
“But it is.” Sombra downed his cup to which Nev sighed heavily.
Out of four ponies present at the table, Sombra was the only one who’d touched his cup. It was his first round and he already felt sick — and yet, he didn’t know any other way to drive away the thoughts about that horrid parade. And then Larissa... Just mentioning her name to himself made Sombra chug what remained of the ale in his cup and slam it back on the table.
The Golden Keg was quite full today. After a long day, ponies wanted to unwind and forget all their troubles. In the loud discussions of somepony’s recent purchases, weather and political stability of a country nopony gave a shit about, the heavy thoughts drowned like gold coins in a river. Surrounded by others who’d come here to lament their troubles, Sombra felt just a little bit better.
“Do you seriously expect ponies to laugh at you after everything that happened? You’re a freaking powerhouse! You almost took Paper’s head off with that punch!” Orthoclase tried to add his own comments into the conversation.
“That’s the problem, Ortho.” Sombra sighted heavily. “I knocked the chosen of the Lord right on his ass. Do you think somepony as high and almighty would forgive having his trusted servants beat up by low-life trash like me?”
“Pff. The Lord can think whatever he wants. If he wants to get to you, he’s gonna have to go through me,” Bulat growled sombrely, flexing his neck. “I’ll show his pretty ass how we handle things in Granitza.”
“Yeah! Who the hell does that fucker think he is? Just because he graces us with his visit we’re supposed to kiss the dust he walks on? Not in a million years.” Nev scowled. “If he’s gonna mess with you, Sombs, he’ll mess with all of us.”
“What’s with that Inquisitor, by the way?” Orthoclase rubbed his chin. “She, for the lack of a better term, defended you. I mean, if you knocked Paper down on the ground, she ground his face into bloody pulp and then spat at the remains — figuratively speaking, of course. It seemed as though she knew you.”
Sombra flinched, not knowing what to say. Tell them the truth? Make up a lie? All those options seemed rather questionable at best.
“I don’t even know, to be honest. I’ve never seen her before in my life… Maybe she just wanted to piss Crumbled Paper off?”
“Most likely.” Bulat drank a bit from his massive cup. “She definitely has balls putting Crumbled Paper down like that. Like, a massive, huge sack!”
“Oh, gods.” Nev rubbed his eyes in disgust, angrily cursing his imagination and Bulat. Everypony at the table chuckled slightly.
“In the end, things aren’t that bad at all!” Orthoclase exclaimed, sipping some ale from his cup. “We’re there for you, Sombs. If there’s any problem, you just tell us. We’ll sort it out. Am I right, guys?”
“Damn straight.” Nev nodded, and so did Bulat. Sombra felt a beacon of warmth deep within his chest and it definitely wasn’t alcohol.
“Oh my, oh my, look at the small rebellion we’ve got going on right here.” The warmth quickly changed to a chill, when Sombra heard Larissa’s voice from behind. “May I join in? Rebellions make me feel all fuzzy inside!”
Sombra and his friends immediately stood up to hail their superior, but Larissa only snickered at them.
“A salutation! For me? Aww, sweethearts, I’m touched.” She playfully licked her fangs. “But I’m not up for a ménage à cinq today, I’m afraid. So you can just sit down.”
Exchanging glances, the soldiers slowly slumped down on their seats. Whatever cheerful spirit their conversation had, it was now gone in a moment’s notice, when Larissa daintily pushed another chair to the table and sat down.
“I know eavesdropping is bad… but I’ve never been much of a good girl, anyway. So, just to clarify — I don’t have balls, no matter how much you want to believe that.” She snickered, looking at Bulat, who blushed.
“I wasn’t, uh, speaking metaphorically… I, ah, mean I was speaking metaphorically… Not literally… Yeah.”
A weary silence hung over the table for a few moments. Eventually Larissa got too bored and fished out a small comb out of her corset, starting to work her tail with it.
“So how’s life? Family? Weather?” She yawned, looking at Orthoclase, who shuddered as if doused in cold water.
“Family? Uh, they’re all fine… My mom caught a cold a few weeks before… Got over it very quickly though,” Ortho murmured under his nose. “She’s a strong one, heh… A bit clingy, maybe. Whenever I and Sombra visit, she never lets us go without a dinner.”
“So you and Sombra live together?” Larissa’s expression changed to one of interest and she put the comb away. Sombra immediately tried to hint Orthoclase to change the subject using gestures.
“Uhh… nah, he just visits my house time from time. We’re friends, hehe.” Ortho let out a sigh of relief once the question was evaded successfully and Larissa turned her gaze to Bulat.
“And what of you, handsome one? Do you visit your friends’ mothers often, too?”
Bulat looked at her, confused, trying to untangle the web of innuendos Larissa weaved with every sentence.
“Ehm, no. I’ve got my own mother to take care of.”
“A good son. Your mother must take pride in you.” She smiled at Bulat, and for a moment it looked as if that smile was sincere. However, it disappeared quickly, when she turned her head to Nev.
“Excuse my rudeness, Lady Inquisitor, but I know why you’re here. You’re going to act all gently, collect information on us and then when we’re a problem you’re going to grab us by the balls and make things go your way. Let me disappoint you there.” He looked extremely serious, which, for some reason, made Larissa laugh. “You’re not going to get anything. We protect and uphold the law. Sure, somepony might take some time off from time to time, but that’s it. Nothing the Inquisition should be interested in.”
Nev couldn’t speak further as Larissa cracked up. She laughed and laughed until tears formed in her eyes.
“So serious! Oh my, this is hysterical!” She wiped off her tears, still giggling. “Do you actually think I came here to spy on you? Why would I even do that?” Larissa went through her mane with a hoof.
“I might be an Inquisitor, but I’m nothing like those old farts in robes. I don’t go around looking for traitors every day. In the end, I’m just a mare in need of good care.” She cringed at her coincidental rhyme. “Talking about care… I’ve got something to tell your friend Sombra — in private. So if you could leave us alone for a moment, I’d be very happy.”
“Not going to happen.” Bulat frowned, crossing his forelegs. “We need guarantees that he’s safe.”
“No, Bulat… I suggest you all go.” Sombra finally gathered courage to speak up. “I don’t want you to get in trouble just because I needed help. Don’t worry, I’ll be alright.”
Only after a reassuring glance, his friends all looked at each other, then got up and slowly trotted to the exit. Sombra took a deep breath — now, he was face to face with the insidious Inquisitor. Whatever she was going to say, he was ready.
“My my, you grew quite a bit.” Larissa switched her seat to the one right next to Sombra. “You were but a bratty colt back when we first met. But now… you’re a real stallion.”
She leaned closer to Sombra, her lips inches away from his ear.
“You know, I thought about you once in a while. As you can guess, those nights were… restless.” She cooed softly into his ear. He immediately leaned away from her, frowning.
“With all due respect, I’m not interested in such details.” Sombra murmured angrily. “What do you want from me?”
“But don’t you find it funny?” Larissa ignored his question. “First, you were living in the capital. Now, I find you here, the ass of the world. Did you walk here all on your own? What were you running away from? So many questions…” She closed her eyes, smiling. What thoughts were flowing through that sick mind of hers?
“This ‘ass of the world’ is my home.” Sombra snarled at her. “Why come all this way just to find me? Am I that important? You certainly seem to provide yourself with… entertainment without me!”
“Don’t be so full of yourself, Sombra.” He froze in shock when Larissa touched his cheek and turned his head to face her. “You’re not that important for me to track you. I was sent here because some idiot noble didn’t want me to be present in Crystal City. So I was sent here, to investigate Dust smuggling.”
She let go of him and turned away, her jovial behaviour gone.
“Even the last idiot in the Empire knows there are no smuggle routes on Republic-Imperial border. Pegasi don’t need Dust, since they don’t use magic and are already the best in bed — at least so I’ve been told.”
The atmosphere at this one certain table was getting more and more unsettling. Meanwhile, the rest of the pub continued to bustle and buzz, completely ignoring the drama that unfolded just steps away.
“The fact that we met is nothing short of miracle. It’s a blessing.” Larissa wiggled around a bit in her chair, it seemed as though her corset was causing her discomfort in such crowded and hot environment. “But enough foreplay. I came here to offer you a position as my personal bodyguard.”
Sombra turned to her, his eye twitching in shock. Those were the last words he expected to hear today and his answer was clear as day.
“No. I’m not doing that!” he answered angrily, ready to face any consequence for his tone. Larissa, however, seemed unfazed.
“An expected reaction. But you didn’t hear me out yet. For your little shenanigan at the parade, Crumbled Paper wants your head. And I’m not joking about it. He’s ready to sign an execution order at any given point.”
Sombra was dumbstruck. It had to be a bluff. Paper couldn’t just execute whoever he wanted, he didn’t have the right. He was just a governor, not a lord. Immediately, Sombra voiced his thoughts to Larissa, who shook her head in reply.
“Radiant doesn’t give two shits about you or Paper. He is ready to sign any order as long as it doesn’t take him much time, be it an execution or an award ceremony. The lord’s signature is not to be questioned. If the document has it, it’s legit.” Larissa put her hooves together, as Sombra turned more and more pale. “You have already seen how petty Crumbled Paper is. There’s nothing more dangerous than a dirt pony with something to prove.”
She leaned closer to Sombra, looking him straight in the eyes. “Nopony can protect you from him. Not your commanders, not your friends. They will all meet the same fate as you if they try to support you.”
Sombra closed his eyes, his very being shivering. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. He had only begun to live a new life.
“Nopony will save you… But I can.” Sombra immediately gazed at her when he heard the words. “I put you in my personal care just for show back there, but if I really take you in… Crumbled Paper will be powerless. He has no authority over me, not even the Lord does. I can shield you, if… you agree to be my bodyguard.”
Sombra looked at Larissa long and hard. Just how cruel could a pony be to toy with the lives of others, using them for her own purposes? He drove away these questions. Larissa’s morals interested him the least in this situation. He was more concerned with his friends’ wellbeing.
“So, if I were to accept your offer… I’d be safe?” He swallowed, his stomach churning in realization of what a shitty set of choices he got.
“Yes. Completely. Being my bodyguard is pleasure, really; you’ll just have to accompany me everywhere I go and protect me. You’ll even get your own room in the town hall — I’ll make sure of that.”
Sombra’s imagination finished the picture that Larissa so obviously hid, concealing the details. He’d be her plaything, completely at her mercy. Who knew what was going through the mind of this mare? Even now, she was looking, devouring him with her eyes. He saw the hunger — she was obviously craving him.
“Don’t worry… I don’t bite.” She smiled demurely, baring her fangs slightly. Sombra took a deep breath.
“Very well… I accept.” He knew he had no choice, but he’d be damned if he’d succumb to her will completely. She might think she owned him now, but she was wrong. Sombra mentally prepared himself to stand his ground against Larissa, and yet not to alienate her at the same time.
“That’s terrific! I knew you’d make the right choice.” Larissa smiled at him. “You may run along to your friends now. I’ll inform your commander of your temporary switch to my service. We will get along just… fine.”
She licked her lips and got up from her chair, trotting gracefully to the exit. Sombra watched her all the way. Larissa certainly mastered the art of utilizing her body to get what she wanted and there was no denying that it was a work of art.
The primal instincts raged within him, and if he were to succumb to them, he’d be in her full possession. He’d be her slave. But Sombra was not going to be a victim of his own lust. Not this time. Not ever.
Quietly, Sombra tossed a few gold coins on the table and prepared to leave. Hard days were ahead of him, but he was sure he could make it through. Whatever plans Larissa had in store for him — she was in for a nasty surprise.