//------------------------------// // X - The Butcher's Knife // Story: A Beginner's Guide to Heroism // by LoyalLiar //------------------------------// Chapter X The Butcher's Knife For what I hope are fairly obvious reasons, Gale and I only returned to the Commander’s Quarters long enough to retrieve Graargh.  Ponies looked at me—and the massive hole I’d rather casually blown in the wall—with notable fear.  And, being completely honest, it felt great.  For once, I had the respect of the ponies around me, even if it did ultimately come from fear. With Graargh in tow, Gale led our newly minted trio down a series of dark alleyways and crooked sideroads, until we came upon a three-story lopsided brick shack that I feared would collapse into the street at any moment.  Next to its rough wooden door, a beam supported a wooden carving of a bed with some sort of writing on it.  Only one of the two chains holding up the sign was connected, so even that minor weight hung off-balance and misaligned with the ground. “You want us to stay here?” I asked Gale.  “I hope nopony has to sneeze.” Gale rolled her eyes.  “It’s a shitty boarding house—exactly what we want.” “Boarding house?” Graargh asked. I couldn’t help but notice that Gale gave the little werebear creature a wide berth, preferring to keep my body between them.  “An inn without a bar.  It might not be fancy, but Tempest couldn’t find the place before the whole problem at the Commander’s Quarters, so I doubt he’ll manage it now.  That, and I’ve got the old mare who runs the place in my pocket.” I couldn’t help but turn to Gale with a raised brow. “Don’t stand around in the street like a two-bit whorse, Morty.  Let’s get up to my room.” Inside the doors of the leaning tower, a visibly blind old earth pony mare raised her head from work cleaning a sheet.  “Gale, you’re back fast.  Glad you listened to me and didn’t stay up all night drinking again.” “It wasn’t exactly my fucking choice,” Gale growled back.  “We’ll be in my room.” “Oh, you brought friends?” The old mare smiled in completely the wrong direction to be looking at either Graargh or I.  “Well, you fillies have fun.” Gale snorted back a laugh. Up a spiraling set of lopsided stairs, Gale brought us to a crooked door in an equally uneven frame.  Producing a key with an unusually not-straight… well, you get the point.  She unlocked and opened the door, revealing a room with a pair of beds, greasy walls, a crumbling ceiling, a stained and unfinished floor, and a window. The description you read above is the most thorough I have provided thus far in my story.  It contains, without exception, everything I saw in that room. Gale shrugged off the satchel on her back onto the floor beside the door, and then leapt onto the bed on my right with a running jump, spinning in midair to land on her back facing me.  A bit of straw slipped out of the mattress from the tackle. “Okay, Morty, let’s get a couple of things straight.  You helped me out back there, and I guess at the end of the day, I’m grateful.  We’re both heading to River Rock, but your little stunt earlier means that the Legion will be looking for you as much as me.  So, you can stay with me for now, and I’ll charter a boat for us in the morning.  But that’s it.  If you get anywhere near my bed, I will geld you.  Got it?” Before I could even offer a witty remark, Graargh cocked his head toward Gale in the fashion of a lost dog.  “What is ‘geld’?” Gale chuckled, and opened her mouth to answer.  I thought it prudent not to let the dark mistress of all cursing convey such a lesson on Graargh’s young mind, and clamped her muzzle shut with a quick flash of telekinesis before she could begin her explanation.  “It’s a very painful punishment for when a pony is bad.” Thank Celestia, Graargh seemed to accept that explanation.  Even Gale’s ire was worth not having the little bear-creature repeat a thousand explicit descriptions of maimed genitalia as we continued our journey. “To answer your question, Gale, yes.  I ‘got it’.  However, before I sign up to traveling with you—” “What the fuck?” She interrupted.  “Hold on…  Now you’re not in on this?  When we were in the woods outside Manehattan, sticking together was your idea.” “Manehattan?” It took me more than a few seconds to put together she was referring to the town I’d labeled Hodunk.  In the same moment, I forgot the name, certain it would never matter in the future.  “Whatever.  Look, Gale, at the time I was under the impression that you were just a noble born unicorn who ran off with some money.  Maybe some Equestrian’s illegitimate foal or something.”  I took quiet note that Gale winced at the accusation.  “However, I now know two things that worry me.” “Let’s just skip to the big one instead of beating around the fucking bush.”  Gale rolled her eyes.  “Yes, Tempest is after me.  I know he’s kind of a big name, but you don’t need to worry.  Even if he does catch us, he’s not really gonna hurt you.  He’s too damn lazy to deal with the paperwork.” “He seemed pretty content to try and stab me.” Gale coughed into her hoof.  “Says the pony who tried to hit him with a spell that blew a six foot hole in a brick wall!  And even after that, I can guarantee you he wasn’t really trying.” I rolled my eyes.  “Is this going to be one of those ‘because I’m still alive’ things?  Because if it is, let’s just skip to the part that matters.  I’m probably the third best mage alive right now, assuming Star Swirl hasn’t keeled over from a cold since we started talking.  And unlike my peers, I’ve spent my entire life being trained to kill monsters way scarier than some pegasus.  I’m extremely good at my job.” This would normally be an excellent place to comment on how much I’ve grown from the colt who felt the need to explain his magical supremacy.  However, I find that such a commentary would be inappropriate in this instance, because I was absolutely right. Gale made a big show of rolling her eyes.  “I am not going to help you have some stupid dick measuring contest with him.  Do it on your own.  All I’m trying to say is that he’s probably afraid of getting chewed out by his mom if somepony gets hurt.” I paced across the room, testing the cushion of the other mattress.  For the cheap and gritty feel of the room, the hay stuffed inside at least seemed fresh.  Content, I sat down before returning my focus to Gale.  “You mentioned his mother before.  Should I have heard of Tempest or his family before?” Gale’s eyes widened, and then she laughed.  “Right.  You’re a crystal.  Tempest’s mom is Commander Typhoon.” I cocked my head.  “I recognize the title there, at least.  So she’s one of Commander Hurricane’s soldiers?” In response to my perfectly natural inquiry, Gale’s mouth fell wide open.  She blinked heavily twice, and struggled to come up with words.  “You… Holy shit, you seriously don’t…” Finally, the mare shook her head and found her words.  “Morty, Hurricane is retired.  He’s sixty-two.  That’s like eighty for a unicorn.  Typhoon is his daughter.  She’s in charge of the… Are you okay?” What Gale’s question alluded to was a growing feeling of pure dread.  My mind had put a number of pieces of information together faster than Gale seemed to have expected.  I answered slowly, with a hollow voice that echoed the pit in my stomach. “I… hit Commander Hurricane’s grandson in the face with an eel.” “Wait, really?” Gale asked, not exactly helping my mortified worry.  “I only saw the carp you used toward the end.” “Not carp,” Graargh announced.  “Was trout.  Rainbow belly.”  When we both turned to him in confusion, he smiled. “Watched from window.  Was funny.”  That seemed to be the thing that finally broke the dumbfounded unicorn.  Gale burst out laughing so hard she nearly fell off her bed. I held my head in my hooves.  “It’s not going to be funny when I’m hanging from thirty furlongs of rope off the side of Cloudsdale!” Gale ran a hoof down her face, still laughing.  “Hurricane would be laughing—” she choked on her own laughter before she could finish the sentence.  “Can you imagine his report?  ‘Dear Mom, I got my ass handed to me by some asshole with an eel—’”  Her last sentence devolved back into a fit of hysterics. “Okay…” I took a deep breath.  “Right.  I’ll just avoid the Butcher and… you said her name was Typhoon?” Gale nodded, her prior fit of giggling finally beginning to subside.  “She’s—” One last chuckle snuck out.  “She’s easy to recognize.  She’s got a fake hoof made of skysteel, and a stick so far up her ass I’m surprised it isn’t coming out her mouth.” I swallowed hard.  “Please tell me you don’t know her personally.  I’m not going to wake up in the night with Commander Hurricane’s daughter standing over me?” Gale laughed again for some reason I couldn't follow. “I can't make any promises.  But seriously.  You're not that important. How the fuck do you support your head when it’s so swollen up?” “A hearty spine and a strong heart.” Gale got up, slowly walked over to the side of my bed, slapped me across the face, turned, paced back, and calmly sat back down again.  A moment later, she collapsed onto her side, staring at me under her dirty blonde mane with a fierce scowl.  “Sweet fuck, you actually think that’s suave, don’t you?  I’m going to sleep before I have to hear any more of your storybook bullshit.”  To finalize the thought, she rolled over, turning her back to me. “Gale, why hit Morty?” Graargh asked, from his place curled into a ball in the corner of the room. “Because he was making an ass of himself,” Gale replied, clearly through gritted teeth. Despite the fact that she hadn’t unsettled it, I took a moment to readjust my jacket’s collar and lapels.  The accompanying lack of any groan of pain or obvious hatred made it clear I was above her petty methods.  Once I was certain I’d established I was the emotionally (as well as physically) bigger pony, I looked her squarely in the eye once more.  “Actually, Gale, there is something else.” I gave her a few good seconds to roll back over and glare at me before I explained my thoughts.  “You were wrong in assuming Tempest was the bigger one of my two issues.” “Oh yeah?” She asked with bitter sarcasm.  “What’s a bigger deal than being chased by the Cirran Legion?” I tilted my head toward her bag.  “Your stolen sword has a name.” Gale sat upright and let one brow slide up her head.  “Okay, so?” “Gale, most weapons don’t have names.   Let me name a few.  The Silvered Tongue of Hematite.  Malachite’s Conquest.  Silver’s Beauty.  The Blade of the Mind’s Eye.  Do you notice something they all have in common?” Gale shrugged.  “They’ve killed some arbitrary number of ponies?” I couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at that.  “Likely true, not that I have a specific number for you.  My point is moreso about their wielders.  King Malachite the Titan.  Queen Silver.  Electrum the Omniscient—” “All-seer,” Gale corrected me, giving me notable pause. A long silence settled in the room as Gale’s eyes widened, realizing that she’d just confirmed a major suspicion of mine. “That’s fascinating, Gale.  You’re right.  As a monarch, King Electrum is referred to as the ‘All-Seer’.  Omniscient was his title as an archmage… or back then, archmagus.  Very few ponies would have been brought up pedantic enough to know the difference.” “Says the pony who pointed out the difference.”  Gale huffed once out her nose.  “So what if I’m a noble.  I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business,” She turned her head toward the window, refusing to meet my gaze.  I very nearly abandoned the conversation in favor of laying back for a nap when she spoke up again.  “I'm half pegasus. My dad was…” She took a deep breath, and she turned her head away from me as she finished.  “He was a legion officer.” I felt my ears perk of their own accord.  An interracial marriage would certainly explain Gale’s estrangement from the traditional behavior of nobility, especially if her birth was illegitimate.  In a mere instant, almost every question I had about the mare answered itself.  Still, I gave the pronouncement a few moments to sink in before saying anything myself. “Was?” Gale bunched her shoulders; though the show off looking tough seemed awkward, it also told me what I needed to know. “I'm sorry.” Gale looked at me with wide eyes and a raised brow, as if my comment was somehow unusual.  In the back of my mind I made a note that whoever he was, Gale's father might not have been very well liked.  For her sake, though, I approached the question more delicately.  A roundabout lead-in seemed like the right move. “So is it your father’s sword?”  When Gale made no move to answer, I lit my horn gently (I was still feeling the fatigue of two earlier spells, after all) and pulled the weapon toward myself.  I wasn’t even up to lifting the ornate weapon, but it dragged along the floor just fine until it was close enough for me to lift with my forehooves.  While I had expected some heft, I was frankly stunned by the weapon’s mass.  “What did Tempest say its name was?  Prochuhlarrum?” “Procellarum,” Gale corrected, emphasizing a distinctly pegasus accent on the word.  “Technically it’s full name is the Gladius Procellarum.  It means ‘the Sword of Storms’ in Equiish.” Then, as casually as if she were commenting on the weather outside the window that still dominated her attention, she added “It’s Hurricane’s.” To say that I reacted emotionally would be accurate, though it perhaps might not convey the full magnitude of my response.  Almost on reflex, I flung the legendary sword as far from myself as I could.  Its notched blade slid free of its sheath in midair, spinning twice before impaling straight through the floorboards, roughly three inches from Graargh’s muzzle.  To my astonishment, and some significant fear, the blade kept going.  Either through magic or simply a legendary sharpness, its own weight drove the weapon straight into the floor, stopping only when the crossguard touched rough wooden beams. I hadn’t thrown it downward particularly.  It seemed Procellarum didn’t require a terribly strong grip from the pony wielding it. Gale made a large show of groaning aloud before she wrapped her magic around the hilt, pulling the blade out of the floor with a certain irreverence toward the weapon’s owner.  Her rose arcana likewise lifted the sheath, and then brought the two together, stowing the sword once more. “It’s not a toy.” “I agree,” I observed.  “It’s a death sentence.  No wonder his grandson is chasing you; are you insane?  You stole from Hurricane?” Gale shrugged.  “It's not like I stole it off him. I had to break in and avoid getting caught, but once I got to his office, it was just hanging on a rack by the wall.” “You just ‘broke in’?” I scoffed.  “Look, Gale, you’re not going to pull one over on me.  Are you a lady-in-waiting to somepony?  A courtier?  Or are you actually a career thief?” The mare turned an adorable shade of red, glancing away from me for just a second.  “I didn’t steal the gold.  I spent my time in court… Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?  I left for a reason.” I took a deep breath.  “Do you know Hurricane?  Personally?” “No…” Gale's eyes momentarily jumped away from me, settling on Graaaagh.  Her tail twitched once. I've seen foals with crumbs on their faces lie better than her attempt in that room.  Realistically, though, I already had my suspicions; Gale was obviously well acquainted with the wrong side of the Cirran Legion.  If she moved in noble circles, willingly or not, it would have been hard not to encounter the Butcher. I realized that I had been sitting silently for more than a regular sized pause, and mentally relived the last few words of our conversation before I picked up again.  “I'm a little bit worried, Gale, that you seem to think having Hurricane’s soldiers following us is an acceptable state of affairs.  Wintershimmer always said Commander Hurricane is the most dangerous pony alive.” Gale cocked her head; from her quick reaction and the little tug at her cheeks, I gathered she was eager to change the subject.  “Wintershimmer?  You said that name in Manehattan… Your teacher, or something?” I nodded.  “Wintershimmer was the best duelist in the world.  Even Star Swirl didn’t dare try to face him one-on-one, because Wintershimmer knew the secret to severing another pony’s soul using his magic.  And yes, the ’was’ there does refer to his death.”  I noted that Gale’s eyes widened slightly, though I didn’t let my observation slow my narrative.  At least, not back then.  “Wintershimmer knew he could best Clover and Star Swirl and Queen Jade, and probably even the Divine Sisters with his spell.  There was only one pony he feared.” Gale’s face lit up with wide eyes, perked ears, and a hint of a smile.  Then, arriving at some obvious conclusion, she scoffed.  “Because of Hurricane’s armor, right?  The black armor that eats magic?” “Only magic directed at him specifically,” I corrected.  “I can still pick up a sizeable rock and throw it at him.  Though pegasi are rarely easy targets.”  Though it might have seemed pedantic, the fact that Silhouette wore a void crystal around her neck was the primary reason I tended to avoid conflict with her directly.  The crystals were extremely rare, even in the Union.  I had no idea where Hurricane had found enough to coat an entire suit of armor, but the result was well known.  “Against anypony else, Wintershimmer was the greatest necromancer alive.  But against Hurricane, he would have been just a hundred-year-old unicorn.” “Is that how Wintershimmer died?” Gale asked. I deliberately held my tongue,letting Gale’s confirmation bias work.  I was a much better liar than her. “I guess that’s not a surprise, if he was one hundred.  Is that why you’re traveling to River Rock?” I nodded again.  “The truth is, I didn’t really finish my studies before Wintershimmer… passed.”  It was completely clear that Gale took note of my hesitation; I could only quietly hope she accepted it as just a pony mournful from a freshly lost teacher.  “I’m hoping to find Star Swirl, or maybe Clover the Cruel—” “Is that another crystal pony nickname?  Like ‘the Butcher’?” I knew what Gale was referring to; as an Equestrian, she almost certainly knew the mare in question as ‘the Clever’.  Thus I nodded, deciding to let the issue slide for the moment, if only to spare a lengthy lecture on the historical accuracy of the Hearth’s Warming Eve pageant. “Regardless, I was hoping to find one of Equestria’s archmagi, and then finish my education.” Gale nodded.  “Well, Star Swirl is just like your old mentor; he’ll probably kick the bucket any day now.  I think he might be past one hundred just like your old guy.  But he’s back in Everfree City if you really want to try.”  My companion gestured her hoof west, back the direction I had come. The back of my mind thoroughly objected with traveling back in the direction of Jade’s influence, even if I did stay inside the Equestrian border. “I think Clover is in River Rock, and she might take you.  If not, you could try Diadem.” “Who?” “Clover’s apprentice.  Though I don’t think Diadem is an apprentice anymore.  She’s super-strong, just like you.  I’ve seen her pick up a fully loaded wagon and just hold it in the air for a good twenty minutes.  It’s honestly pretty cool; and she has this…” I caught myself grinding my teeth as Gale continued a minor description of Diadem’s sheer power.  Of course Clover had already trained an apprentice; that much didn’t surprise me.  What frustrated me far more was that, if Gale was to be believed, this Diadem was almost the equal of my strength, but without my harsh limitations on magic. Finally, hoping to stop the onslaught of this rival mare’s achievements, I pressed a hoof against my brow.  “I get the point, Gale.  Do you happen to know what her formal rank is?  Or the topic of her arcane thesis?” By way of response, my newest traveling companion offered a lazy shrug.  “Like you already figured out, I don’t really do the whole ‘wizard’ thing.  I know they call her an Archmage.  And I know she spends most of her time working on setting up her wizard school.  She doesn’t really get out much.” At that final straw, I decided the best way to let out my irritation was to slam a hoof into the room’s brick wall.  A few clods of loose baked ceramic fell from my blow as I forced myself to slowly breathe in and out. “Well holy shit, Morty.  Did I say something wrong?” To answer that question, I put on what could only have been an extremely forced smile.  “You’re fine, Gale.” I sucked down a very sharp breath.  “Why don’t we talk about something else?  Why are you traveling to River Rock?  You mentioned somepony named Cyclone?” Gale shrugged.  “I mean, it would be cool to meet Cyclone, but that’s not really why I want to go to River Rock.  I was just hoping it would scare off Tempest.”  Gale shrugged, tweaking her head over to her pack.  “You can’t kill a windigo with a regular sword.” Graargh again interjected in our conversation.  “What is windigo?” “Hmm… I feel like I’m probably gonna sound like a fucking idiot for asking this—” “Language, Gale.  There are foals present.” “He’s a grizzly bear!” Gale protested, before bashing a hoof against her face.  “Whatever. Grog, have you—” “Graargh,” I corrected as gently as I could. Graargh roared. Gale looked slowly between the two of us and sighed, deciding she had clearly had enough of this.  “Graaargh, have you seen the Hearth’s Warming Eve play?” Graargh shook his head.  “Not know those words.” “I didn’t think so.” The mare shook her head.  “Well, not long before I was born, the three types of ponies weren’t in a unified country yet.  There were three tribes.  The Diamond Kingdom for the unicorns, Cirra for the pegasi, and the Low Valleys for the earth ponies.  And it was a total shitshow.  The pegasi were almost at war with the unicorns, there were a series of really, really brutal winters, and ponies were starving.  Then it started snowing during summer, and everypony knew something was up.  So each of the three tribes sent a team to go find somewhere warmer to live.  The bitchy unicorn princess, Platinum, and the dipshit earth pony chancellor, Puddinghead, got sent off by their tribes hoping that they’d die instead of ruining the government.  The pegasus leader, Commander Hurricane, actually just up and went himself instead of delegating.  And he brought that sword.” Gale gestured with her horn toward where Procellarum was resting. “Oh, and all the leaders brought one other pony from their tribe along.  Smart Cookie, Clover the Clever, and Pan Sea.” I held up a hoof to stop her.  “Why did you pause in the middle of his name?” “Hmm?” “It’s ‘Pansy’, right?  Like the flower?” It seemed Gale couldn’t control her humor, laughing even as she rolled her eyes.  “No, Morty.  His name is ‘Pan Sea’.  Two words. It’s kind of old Cirran; it means ‘all the seas’ or something like that.  Hell if I know, doesn’t really matter anyway.” She turned back to Graargh.  “Now, according to the play, the cause of the winter were these monsters called Windigoes that feed on hatred, like how the three tribes were feeling toward each other.  Then they made the snow and ice and basically ruined everything.  There were three of them.  And supposedly, the three tribes’ leaders finally made friends and the magic of them having stupid hug-time and stuff saved the tribes.” I coughed into my hoof to interject.  Gale glared at me. “That is magic,” I explained.  “The whole ‘friendship’ thing. Because souls are made of mana, whenever there is a bond between two souls, positive or negative: love, rivalry, hatred, whatever, that bond is a piece of physical mana that you can, theoretically, use to power spells.  That’s not to say the play is true, but it’s worth noting.” “Wow…” Gale muttered, mostly to herself.  “You actually take yourself seriously saying shit like that?” “The idea that friendship is literally magic is an extremely important principle of necromancy,” I countered calmly.  “It’s how spirits like windigoes are formed in the first place.  I hope you see the irony of mocking it for being a foalish immature-sounding idea when you swear so often that it loses all significance.  But don’t let me keep you from your story.” Gale rotated her entire body to face Graargh and away from me.  “So that’s what the play says, but it’s not what actually happened.  There weren’t any magic friendship hugs making everything better.  Commander Hurricane just stabbed the windigoes.  Well, two of them anyway.  The third one escaped, and returned to River Rock.  That’s why it’s always winter there.  Somewhere, that windigo is out there.  And I’m gonna kill it.” I snorted out a little hint of laughter.  It must have been audible, as Gale’s ears immediately fell back against her scalp. “Yeah, jackass, that’s what everypony in Everfree City thought too.  But they thought I wouldn’t get out of the city with Procellarum, and look where I am now.” “I don’t mean to offend.”  I smiled to the filly sitting across from me.  “I think you have a good idea from the perspective of helping ponies.  I just think you ought to at least know how to teleport before you take on something that powerful.”  And with that comment, I laid down to sleep off my battle with Tempest.  “Gale, get some rest.  In the morning, I’m going to teach you magic.”