The Manor's courtyard was unusually quiet for the time of day, when the most sparring was done, right before the midday meal. This silence was doubly strange considering the number of ponies that were packed within its small confines, all of them watching two very well-discussed ponies circle one another, looking for an opening in what promised to be an excellent duel.
Vino's opponent had the advantage of experience and a considerable reach, and was a tried and true warrior, whereas the young knight had never tasted actual battle, or even formal combat. He was, however, possessed of youth, courage, speed, and an almost supernatural sense of where his opponent might strike next, a skill which he had demonstrated time and again over the past month.
The two contestants watched one another through the slits in their visors, neither willing to take their eyes off of his opponent, even for a moment, waiting for the perfect strike. Even between two skilled fighters, there can only be a little time before somepony either slips up or becomes impatient. It was due to one of these factors that Vino raised his sword and attempted to bull-rush his opponent.
Invictus interposed his own sword, a bladeband that had naturally taken the form of a massive blade of Taurish origin, commonly known as a great-hander, between Vino's swing at his shoulder and its intended target, and with a simple thrust outward, sent the attack skittering sideways. His counter blow was as swift as it was brutal, but as had happened time and again, Vino's sword found its place unerringly, turning the grand stroke aside, though only just.
This insult was answered with a sliding blow from below, which was caught by the massive blade of Invictus with some difficulty, as Vino was now inside of his guard. Vino pressed his advantage, his quick thrusts keeping Invictus on the back hoof, if not quite off-guard. Twice during his assault, his blade scraped against the imposing golden plate of his opponent's armor, but it was never a solid blow, or, as it might be said, a killing stroke.
Invictus merely backed away, letting Vino press his advantage, and waited for his moment. Surely enough, he found it. A particularly daring attack had left Vino open to a counter, which Invictus employed with ruthless efficiency. The thrust in question was flicked to one side, and quite suddenly Vino found his sword pointing off to one side, with Invictus's blade hurtling towards the right side of his helmet.
Just barely, the younger knight managed to weave away from this stroke, but it was now Invictus who was pressing his advantage, and Vino who was forced to retreat, his blade flashing silver-red in the cold winter sun as he parried and cut, wincing with each blow that connected with his blade. The great-hander was a cumbersome weapon, true, but Invictus wielded it like a lesser pony might a rapier. Despite the seeming lightness of the weapon's movements, each stroke was as a hammer striking at Vino's defenses, and it was only the fact that he could dodge half of Invictus's blows outright that kept him from losing his sword.
Backed against the line of the arena, and with nowhere to go, Vino grit his teeth and rallied to meet Invictus's offensive with one of this own. Standing firm now, neither pony giving an inch, the two contestants hammered at one another wildly, blow after blow clashing as they waited in a desperate stalemate. If it was a stalemate, however, it was one that was destined not to last. Vino's offensives and defenses had cost him dearly, and he was flagging. Invictus knew it, too, and so redoubled his efforts, breath steaming forth like a dragon's fury from beneath his helm as he exerted himself to greater feats of combat.
At last, a limit was reached. Vino's sword moved just a bit too slow, and the great-hander's blade, turned at the last moment from its edge by its wielder, collided with the side of his head with a mighty clang that was strongly reminiscent of a clock tower bell. Vino collapsed in a heap, as the crowd, which had been holding its breath for what seemed like an eternity, erupted into a mixture of cheers, cries, jeering, and booing, depending on the personal proclivities of each witness.
Invictus allowed the bladeband to return to its place on his foreleg, once again marveling at the ease with which it had run forth to hover in front of him, a sword bound to his will, for all the world like a unicorn. He waited patiently for Vino to rise as the crowd dispersed. He was not worried about lasting damage, for the unicorn had been hit far harder than that in the month he had trained him and come back for more, and besides, he knew very well what a pony looked like when rendered unconscious.
Vino, perhaps staggering a bit, managed to get his helmet off. An observer unfamiliar with this ritual might be confused at what they saw, for Vino was beaming as though immensely proud of himself. And, perhaps, he should have been, for his fight, the third such fight with Invictus that morning, had lasted the longest yet. Titanically long by the standards of dueling, they had danced back and forth for nearly four minutes, and though Vino had harbored no illusions that he would lose the fight as he had lost every other one, he had made it his mission to last longer and do better each and every time.
“You lost,” Invictus said impassively, casting his helm away as well. “Again.”
Vino shrugged. “I can't match you for stamina or experience or skill,” he said. “I've learned that much over the past month.”
“And what else have you learned?”
“How much I still have left to learn, if I want to do my duty as a knight and protect those who need it,” Vino replied. “That I'm still not good enough.”
Invictus snorted. “At least you are no fool,” he said. “Though perhaps you are understating your abilities. Your natural talent is impressive, and you respond well to instruction. In a different time, I think you might have made a good Sunborn.”
Vino blinked. “Thanks?” he said, unsure of how to interpret the compliment. “You're unusually chatty. In a good mood?”
Invictus regarded him impassively. “With today's matches factored into my impression of your combat ability, I estimate you have a three in ten chance of defeating the Captain tomorrow. I am glad to see that my time has yielded good results. When I first began to train with you, your chances were less than one in ten.”
“You always know how to cheer me up,” Vino muttered darkly. “But...thank you. If...if you don't mind, might I ask you a favor?”
Invictus tilted his head, unsure. In the thirty days they had met for sparring, and hours upon hours of practice, they had never exchanged anything approaching a pleasantry excepting the first day they had met, in which Invictus had explained that he was going to help Vino improve himself. Not a day had passed where they exchanged more than perhaps a hundred words, outside of instruction on Invictus's part, or to ask a question or clarify a point on Vino's.
“I am Bound to Cobblestone,” Invictus said. “You know this. What would you have of me?”
Vino scuffed a sheepish hoof. “I need a second,” he said. “Not to fight for me, but once...once things are over, if I am dead, I need somepony to see to it that my affairs are in order. Nothing big, just to get a letter I left in my room and send it home. Captain Fidelis will see to the rest of my things, but I'd like somepony to handle that letter personally. Could you do that?”
“I will attend to your affairs and stand beside you tomorrow morning,” Invictus said. “Provided Cobblestone allows it. I shall inquire, and send word tonight. But for now, I must take my leave.”
Vino looked at him curiously. “Do you have somewhere to be?” he asked. “Normally we keep training after the sparring match.”
“True,” Invictus replied, “But before a battle, it is best not to exert yourself. Besides,” he said, pointing one hoof to the opening to the courtyard, “It is not I who has business to attend to.”
Vino turned to see, much to his surprise, that Corporal Fireball was waiting for him underneath the tiled roof of the walkway past the courtyard, clearly waiting for him to finish so she could approach. He waved her over, leaving Invictus to meet her halfway.
“Yes, Corporal?” he asked the fiery maned Pegasus. “I'm surprised to see you here. Normally you train in the larger yard, right? I don't think I've seen hide nor hair of you outside of early morning practice in a month.”
“Captain Fidelis sent me to retrieve you, sir,” she said. “He said it's not a matter of urgency, but you should be done anyway, and asked me to escort you to his office.”
“Well,” Vino said with a gesture, “Lead on.”
The two began to walk in silence, passing through the courtyard and into the Manor proper, picking their way around Guards and knights of the Court, all clad in sky blue. They, the only ones clad in the purple of Everstar, weren't spared a second glance, even though one of them was likely to die on the morrow. The soldiery of Cadance's Court were busy with their own problems.
Soon enough, this crowd was left behind, and still the silence remained, until it had almost become unbearable. Vino, looking around idly, noticed that Fireball was seemingly lost in her own thoughts, words mouthed silently through barely moving lips. Vino cleared his throat. “Penny for your thoughts, corporal?” he asked.
Fireball flinched at the question as if struck before gazing at him with wide, panicked eyes. “S-s-sorry, sir,” she stammered. “I was just, well...I was just kind of spacing out.”
“You looked like you were talking to yourself,” Vino said. “What about?”
Fireball's ears laid back, a clear indicator of stress. “I...I don't think it's appropriate to talk about, sir,” she aid. “Especially considering tomorrow.”
“Are you that worried about my chances?” Vino asked, half-joking. “Invictus said he thought I'd do well. I trust his judgment.”
Fireball's ears perked up. “Oh!” she said, as if surprised. “Well, then...that's good, right? We were all kind of worried.”
“All?” Vino echoed curiously. “You and others?”
“All of us, sir,” she said. “The Fourth Rifles and most of the rest of the Guard. No offense, sir, but most of us thought you were a goner.”
“I wouldn't call a three in ten chance a 'goner', exactly,” Vino said cavalierly. “Not as sure as I'd like, but I'm not doomed to certain death. Is that what you were talking to yourself about? My odds?”
Fireball flushed, the normally deep blue of her cheeks touched with pink. “No, sir,” she said. “And, well...if you really want to know, I was praying.”
“Praying?”
“For you, sir,” Fireball clarified. “Asking the Lady to grant you strength tomorrow. And...and for forgiveness on my part.”
Now it was Vino's turn to perk up, this time in interest. “Forgiveness?” he asked. “What do you need forgiveness for?”
Fireball looked at him, stunned. “You really don't know?” she asked. “More than a month since that bast...that captain challenged you, and you didn't ask why he did?”
“He challenged me because I stood up for the ponies who follow me,” Vino said. “I didn't need any reason more than that.”
Fireball seemed to deflate, almost, the flightiness and burning curiosity gone. “Barracks scuttlebutt is right,” she said. “You've got more honor than sense, pardon my saying, sir.”
“I'll pardon that if you tell me what you need forgiveness for,” Vino said quietly. The pair of them passed by an alcove, and Vino stopped, indicating that she should step inside. Fireball did so, Vino following behind. It was not a large space, but it was private enough. “What have you done wrong?”
The pegasus looked at him, throat and mouth seeming to work against one another for the briefest moment, as though attempting to mangle the words before they could escape her, but at last, she sighed, ran a hoof through the unkempt yellow and red mane on her head, and withdrew a small metal pendant from her uniform jacket, one shaped like a very familiar six-pointed star. “It's because of this,” she said. “And my faith.”
Vino said nothing, simply allowing Fireball to continue. “I'm a member of a small...I guess you could call it a temple or something like that. I was raised to believe that Lady Everstar isn't just a powerful pony, but a deity. Like Celestia or Luna or Cadance.”
Fireball began to relax as she explained, clearly having given this speech before. “We call ourselves the Evening Path,” she said. “We believe that Lady Everstar was chosen to be the steward of ponies, unlike the three goddesses, by a higher power, and the fact that she denies her divinity is proof of her status, and her right to lead us all. We keep her tenets, like Loyalty and Honesty, and try to live our lives as she did, to follow her example.”
“Such as? Vino asked.
“Such as serving the common good in any way we can,” Fireball said. “My dad taught ponies how to defend themselves, my mom is a nurse from Hoofington, and I joined the service. We also try to better ourselves through education. I'm the first pony in my family in almost four generations who didn't attend university immediately after school. We're supposed to be humble and help everypony we can, and we're really big on self-determination.”
“Well, as far as I can tell, you fit that ideal pretty well,” Vino said. “So what do you need forgiveness for?”
“We also believe that ponies are supposed to find out Lady Everstar's divinity on their own,” Fireball said. “Telling ponies that Lady Everstar is divine is like how ponies in the Celestial Empire are raised. They don't get to discover it, they never question it. That's just how they are. Lady Everstar is a goddess of Thought and discovery. If another pony has come to grief because we've been prancing about and claiming our faith is the true path, regardless of if it's true or not, then the fault lies with us.”
Fireball took a deep breath. “It's because of my faith, my insistence to wear this pendant here of all places, knowing what those who follow Cadance think of the Lady, that the captain lost his temper,” she said. “It's because of my faith that he started to beat me, and it's because of my faith that you stepped in and got challenged. And now my faith might result in the loss of a knight defending the daughter of Lady Everstar. So, sir, that would be why I need forgiveness.”
“And why you've been avoiding me for the past month,” Vino said. “Because you don't want to make it worse?”
Fireball's jaw tightened, and she nodded. “Yes,” she said quietly, “Sir.”
“Corporal Fireball,” Vino said, after a moment of quiet contemplation, “I want you to know that I respect your faith, even though I may not understand it, and I admire the courage it must have taken to say what you just said to me.”
“Thank you, sir,” Fireball said.
Vino held up a hoof. “That said,” he continued, “Assuming that your faith is the reason why you were singled out, and the reason I stepped in, that's not what requires forgiveness. What requires forgiveness is the colossal arrogance in assuming that your faith is what singled you out, or that you were somehow special because I stepped in to save you.”
Fireball's eyes widened, and her head bobbed as if she had been slapped. “Sir?”
Vino sighed. “Corporal Fireball,” he said, “Over the past month, I've thought a lot about what I might have done differently to avoid this duel tomorrow. When faced with impending death, you start to contemplate some things. And would you care to guess which conclusion I've come to?”
The Pegasus shook her head.
“I wouldn't have changed a thing.” Vino said. “If any other pony, a member of the Fourth, a member of the Guard, hay, even a member of the Court here was being beaten by Captain Brightsteel, the outcome wouldn't have been any different. I'd have stepped in regardless. I'm sworn to defend those in need and to uphold the laws of chivalry wherever they are being broken. Captain Brightsteel is a petty bully, and if it hadn't been your pendant, I'm sure he would have found another reason to keep hitting you while you were down.”
Vino's hoof clenched involuntarily. “Your faith isn't what made you stand out,” he said. “It didn't define you then, your frankly damned impressive sword work did. The Captain didn't challenge you because of your faith, he would have challenged anypony who would have gotten the better of his apprentice. I've seen swordmasters like him before when I was in training. Their pet pupils have to be the best, and anypony who shows them up is an enemy.”
“I...” Fireball said. “I hadn't thought of it that way, sir.”
“Corporal Fireball,” Vino said, his tone even. “Your faith is what drives you. I understand that. I respect it. My vows, made to the Lady just as you've made yours, are what drive me. You don't need her forgiveness, you didn't do anything wrong. If anything, your refusal to hide that pendant around your neck means that you deserve to be rewarded, not punished. And,” he said lightly, “It means I'm probably not the only one here with more honor than sense.”
Fireball shifted uncomfortably, her wings fluttering a bit. “Thank you, sir,” she said. “That actually means a lot.”
“And come tomorrow,” Vino said, “I'm going to show that slimy excuse for a cavalier what it means to be a knight. I'm not going to die anyway, so don't worry about you somehow being responsible for that, either.”
Corporal Fireball nodded once, a quick, jerky motion. “Right, sir!” she snapped, her old fire returning once again. “I'll be looking forward to it!”
Vino grinned, showing far more confidence than he felt. “Glad to hear it,” he said. “Now, let's not keep Captain Fidelis waiting.”
It was with a considerably improved mood that the duo left the hallway behind, neither of them noticing the very large black cat which had been perched upon the tapestry across the hall from them, a single amber eye cracked open and watching every movement, and a single twitching ear having heard every word.
While the Guard had not been officially assigned any quarters at the Manor, and indeed, they did not expect them, the stewards and nobility of the Court recognized that a visiting army, even a small one, would need a base of operations. So, for nearly the past two months, the unofficial headquarters of the Evening Guard in Dawndale had been located in a small, roundish tower that served as both their offices and armory in addition to their quarters, located on the upper levels of the tower itself.
The space was snug, some would have called it cramped, and the few braziers that had been placed throughout the building only warded off the worst of the cold, leaving a lingering chill in the air, but a few attempts had been made to make the quarters more palatable, including the proud display of regimental banners and pennants, the “requisition” of several rugs and chairs for use in the common rooms, and, perhaps most noticeably, the patching of several holes in the wall of the tower, which had one point been used for guard duty before falling into disrepair.
The fact that they had been assigned quarters in what amounted to an abandoned ruin was not lost on the members of the Guard.
The office that Vino was interested in was located in the tower, but not above-ground. The basement, still showing visible foundations, was deemed most secure, and so it had been converted with considerable time and effort into the officer's work area, a title which conferred more prestige upon the cramped cellar than was strictly needed.
Vino, leaving Fireball behind, descended the steps to the cellar door with nothing more than a quick nod to the sentries on duty, and paused only to do up the next button on his coat before he raised on hoof on the door, knocked three times, and waited for a response.
“Come.”
Vino did so, opening the door to reveal a study that more closely revealed the office of a prison warden, or perhaps the warden of a dungeon. A desk, black metal, was bolted firmly to the floor, with a simple wooden chair behind it, and a twin in front of it. The only ornamentation in the room was a pair of file cabinets, one of which was still half-empty, and the room was lit only by the flickering light of a brazier, swinging from its chain from the ceiling, made of the same rough stone as the walls and floor, and a single candle, which kept a small pitcher of purple wax ready to pour.
Captain Fidelis looked up from his papers for only a moment, before gesturing towards the chair in a clear invitation to sit. Vino did so, the creaking of wood almost deafening in the otherwise quiet room. Captain Fidelis's pen scratched out a few final words, before he returned it to its inkwell, blowing on the paper before folding it quite neatly into thirds, setting it to one side to be placed in an envelope and sealed later.
Finally, he looked up at Vino. “So,” he said. “Tomorrow's a big day for you.”
Vino nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Are you ready?”
“Ready as I'll ever be,” Vino replied. “Invictus says my odds have improved.”
Fidelis sniffed. “I still don't trust that thing. But then” he said, begrudgingly, “That's not my business. My business is to mistrust others.”
“You want to know if I've found anything out, sir?” Vino asked.
“You're perceptive,” Fidelis said. “Yes, that's why I called you here, or at least one reason. So, let's get that out of the way. What can you tell me about your fellow captains?”
“Well,” Vino said, mulling it over. “If I had to pick one pony to be our mole, I'd peg it on you, sir.”
Fidelis's mouth twitched. “Oh?”
“You're in the right place to intercept everything pertaining to Lady Serale's security,” Vino said, “Even if you weren't a Changeling, you've got the most experience of us all when it comes to spycraft, and it's not like anypony would want to stop you from sending a missive if you said it was official business.”
Vino's eyes lingered on the letter, which lay folded on the desk. “But if you'd turned,” he said, “Then your entire hive would know. There's a dozen cases from the past decade alone involving Changelings being imprisoned by the hive for engaging in espionage against the Queen or Lady, as well as another ten cases I could name involving Changelings and dark magic. It just doesn't work.”
“So that leaves you, Captain Ahan, Captain Afi, and Captain Kore,” Fidelis said. “And we both know you're not the mole. So who is?”
“Kore would be the likely choice,” Vino said thoughtfully, “At least, that's what I thought. She's a Cambiae, which means she's familiar with dark magic already, and she's got a crown charter as a knight errant, which means she could have been part of a dozen cults if she was careful enough. But there's a problem with her, too.”
“That being?”
Vino shifted uneasily in his chair. Spying on his fellow captains made him uneasy, and it had taken most of his energies outside of practice to keep up his duties as a captain and still discretely observe the other captains. It had helped that most of his evenings were taken up by “training exercises” with the other captains.
“That being that she's a knight errant with magical talent and a murky background,” Vino said, “And any move she made to do that kind of thing in the Kingdom would have been noticed by the Magekillers.”
“She could have slipped them,” Fidelis pointed out reasonably.
Vino shook his head. “She keeps to a strict schedule. She gets up at the same time every day, performs the same exercises in the same places, visits the same locations, eats her meals in the same spot at the same times, does the same work as every other captain from one to six in the afternoon, files it for your approval, and then goes to bed after dinner. And stays there, too.”
Fidelis scratched at his chin thoughtfully, before running a hoof through his graying mane, mussing it a little. “She could be leaving her room.”
“I've watched the door overnight at least four times, and her room has no window,” Vino said. “If she was sneaking out, it was when I wasn't on guard duty.”
“So is it Afi or Ahan?” Fidelis said. “If you're so sure of Kore's innocence.”
Vino, warming to the topic, leaned forward a bit. “I'd suspect Ahan next,” he said. “After all, he's got no loyalty to the Lady, being a Gryphon, and he's a mercenary. He might have been hired to infiltrate the Guard. Except I've never heard of a Gryphon taking that kind of contract. It wouldn't fit with their idea of honor. And a Gryphon contract can't be bought out once it's been made. I've seen his paperwork myself. He's clean. A mercenary maybe, but an honorable one and certainly not a spy.”
“So that leaves Afi.” Fidelis said. “What are your thoughts on him?”
Vino winced. Of the three, Afi might have been the most likely culprit, but he was still unsure. “Afi stands the least to gain,” he said. “Granted, he's good at disappearing, and he might be able to get a message out to somepony through the Regia's security, but he's an old soldier who hasn't shown any interest in anything besides taking one last assignment and retiring with honor.”
“He's gone on record saying that he no longer feels a sense of duty,” Fidelis said. “Mostly he's interested in the commission and the retirement. It's taken ponies far less to turn on the Crown.”
“Something about that doesn't fit,” Vino said, furrowing his brow. “If Afi's the one to watch, then he's very dedicated to his role. I'm assuming his background has been checked, which means he's been in the Rangers for longer than the Lady Serale has been alive, and he was one of the ponies in the car with us when the train cars blew on the way to Ponyville.”
“He could have been keeping close on purpose,” Fidelis said.
Vino shrugged. “It's not much to go on,” he said. “But I think, if any of the captains are the traitor, it would have to be him.” He swallowed, suddenly feeling sick.
Fidelis nodded, leaning back in his chair. His hoof tapped against the floor, and he gazed up at the gently swinging brazier as if divining the truth in its flame. He exhaled slowly. “Well,” he said. “This puts me in an awkward position. I've been investigating the mages for the past month or so, and what I've found worries me.”
Vino frowned. “How so, sir?”
“There are five mages,” Captain Fidelis said. “Sir Dunlevy of Oakton, the cavalier Cheval du Ombre, Angelus of the Magekillers, Zara Stonehoof, our resident zebra, and your own rookie mage, Ceres.”
Vino nodded. He hadn't seen much of them since they had arrived, being involved in the training and his duties, and they had spent much of their time engaging with the Clerics of the Dawn Court on matters of what he assumed were mystical importance.
“I looked at Ceres first, seeing as he was the only one to actually land a hit on Magus Libra during the trials,” Fidelis said, “But near as I can tell, he's just a lucky apprentice who has a bit more talent than you might think. I'd get to know him, Vino. He's going to be an excellent mage one day. Unfortunately, he's also probably the least likely candidate to be the mole. His record's almost boringly clean.”
“Sir Dunlevy and Lady Cheval both have excellent records, and what's more, I was with them the entire time while we were preparing to leave,” Fidelis said. “They're about as clean as I can be sure of. Zara's a possible candidate, but I'm disinclined to believe that she'd have anything to do with it. As near as I can tell, all of her power is in that staff she's made, and in her knowledge of potions. Not exactly something that lends itself to sending hidden messages.”
“So that leaves Sir Angelus?” Vino asked. “Would a Magekiller...”
“No,” Fidelis said with finality. “The Magekillers police their own far more stringently than they do everypony else. If he'd put even a hoof out of line at any point in the past, we'd have gotten a half-dozen reports detailing the time, place, infraction, hay, even what he'd eaten that morning. It's not him.”
“So the mages are clear?” Vino asked.
“That's what worries me,” Fidelis said. “I got a missive from Starfall saying that they'd found psychic echoes in the courtyard after the explosion, and that it might have been a mental communication. I think that our culprit, whoever it is, is one of the mages.”
“Or Afi's better at magic than he lets on,” Vino said.
Fidelis nodded. “I'm going to be asking some questions tonight,” he said, “Discrete ones, but things might get hairy in the next few days. I needed everything you had on the captains before I could figure out where to start.”
Vino's mouth twisted in a wry smile. “And here I'd thought you called me here to say it had been an honor and you were rooting for me tomorrow,” he said.
“You know that you still have duties to attend to,” Fidelis said quietly. “We have dangerous jobs, and you had intelligence I needed. I'm a spy as well as a soldier, Vino. You know that.”
“True,” Vino replied easily. “And I'd meant to get it to you today, after practice.”
“With that out of the way,” Fidelis said, “I do want to say that you are an excellent soldier, Vino. One who shows promise. And regardless of what happens tomorrow, win or lose, it has been an honor serving with you.”
Vino's confidence became more subdued. “Thank you, sir,” he replied. “I hope to make the Lady proud.”
“She's already proud of you, Vino. Just make sure you've earned that pride.”