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// Chapter 9 No More Heroes 
// Story: Falconers and the Embers of Nations 
// by MadDonut 
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1. Conflicted Teams
2. Insipid Afflictions
3. A Great Failures
4. Oxinum

1.	The two teams of Falconers were at a standoff with the warriors who erected a strong wall of shields and blades that poked through the gaps between insuring Adridge herself couldn’t charge it and just above where pegasus that continued to circle never once landing insuring Lindestic or Kara couldn’t engage.
She had seen the fight, the beginning, middle, and horrific ending and now she watched as Quariomy past her warriors and listened as she made gave her and Igneouses team orders to deliver a message. But in one day? Getting to the capital would take more than a week even with no sleep.
But soon after Quariomy finished she then said, “However, there may be a way to liberate Igneous and many other lives.” She gestured with her hooves to bring the tied up Igneous over and Adridge watched in utter grief as they savagely dragged him through the dirt; hearing every screams bounded muffled screams of pain as every divet and tug of his binds caused him pure agony, and seeing the pain in his eyes as he tried to stay strong as he looked up to her made it all the worse. Quariomy tilted her head down and looked at him as if he were a specimen for study. 
“What is your proposition?” Oxinum asked stubbornly as he stood set ready to fire his crossbows at the slightest advancement of an attack.
Looking back up she looked past Adridge and straight to Oxinum and at the sight of her even he faltered in his stance. She then stood tall and asked, “do any of you happen to be an Oneirocritic?” She said nothing more and awaited an answer looking at the Falconer who exchanged slight glances in confusion and almost soon after she said, “That is a no. What a shame.” Resting a hoof on Igneouses punctured side releasing a heartbreaking, muffled cry from the stallion, she said, “Then our conditions will remain the same. One day.” For a long the falconers stood there even as more Warriors began to gather round filling the ground with armor and the skies with feathers. Quariomy then lost patents and said, “Right then.” 
Unsheathing her sword she raised it above Igneouses neck and brought it down. “NO!” Adridge said suddenly jolting forward in defence of Igneous which was only met with a surge of swords pointed outwards in defence of Quariomy who withheld the blade just before piercing his flesh. “We’ll go.” Looking back gesturing for the others to begin walking she again said, “we’ll go.”
As the others turned slowly turned around and backed away Adridge gave Igneous one last fleeting glance before running off with the others and written across his face she saw something she hadn't seen from him befor. 
Helplessness…
For hours they ran ceaselessly, recklessly. Even if there were monsters to be seen they were ignored as they tirelessly pursued the borders of Noriphmy however in half the time it took for them to get to the abandoned village they had already made it back to the mining village by nightfall. With heavy breath they came to a stop just above the ridge that looked over it. Still far away any ponies standing out in the open seemed like insects by comparison. Breathlessly she said, “We made it. Let's go quickly.”
She began to set off just as Floritha landed but as she did Oxinum said, “Shouldn’t we talk about this.”
“What?” she said looking back to him. He stood in the back by Floritha with Lindestic and Rechon near Adridge herself.
“Are you not the least bit concerned?” he said in a lowly voice. “Igneous is being held by those fiends and were here… wallowing.”
Adridge could clearly sense his frustration. “We are not wallowing we are-”
“Delivering a message? To whom? Them?” he said pointing to the village. “You really think they would believe us or do you just expect to run to the capital in one night?”
“We need to send the message otherwise-”
Again he interrupted Adridge and said, “Do you really, really think the knowledge of Istudious would make a difference.” He shook his head and aggressively said, “Look. Look! You really think Noriphmy is capable enough to sustain a war? You think the royal guard is going to come and save us, those incapable dunces?”
“What are you suggesting?” Adridge said as she began to retort. “Nothing? That we just let the tide of war wash over all of Noriphmy covering every corner of it till there is nothing left?”
“Again it's all the same. Look at us. Were falconers,” Oxinum bleekly said.
“No,” she argued. “Today we are warriors.”
“Were Falconers!” He shouted, “Igneous was a Falconer! He fought as a Falconer and we left him.” He took a few steps forward and in the presence of his aggression Rechon made his advancement on him in his loyalty to Adridge. Suddenly Oxinum deployed his crossbows letting them spring up at his side and he stared Rechon down as he took a steady stance. “Stand down,” he said not faltering his gaze with his gaze alone freezing Rechon in his tracks. “Or I will insure I stay a falconer longer than you.” Looking to the rest out of the corner of his eyes he said, “Tis the first rule of Falconering: Never leave another behind. So easily forgotten, just look at us. I'm going back, and I'm going to save Igneous if it's the last mission I enroll myself.”
Steadily backing away Adridge said, “We're going to warn Noriphmy, and were going to do it swiftly.”
“It's hopeless,” he said. “Even with the all the falconers and royal guards in the nation fighting on the front, it's still so very hopeless.”
“So is the liberation of Igneous.”
“I gave up hope once… I'm never doing that again.”
As he began to walk backwards away from them with his crossbows still drawn Kara said, “I'm coming with you.” Just as he looked to her she said, “there's no convincing me otherwise. A falconer never goes alone.”
When Oxinum and Kara finally departed Adridge looked back to her team who both seemed unsure of the situation. Speaking clearly she said, “Our plans still stand. Rechon you are to run to the north onwards and warn the ponies there, and Lindestic you are to fly south onwards and… What's that,” she said gesturing to his wing.
Only slightly opening it he said, “it's the bird. You remember.”
She didn’t remember as the previous events clouded everything that wasn’t relevant at the time. “Did you run the whole way here?”
“I did,” he answered.
“I need you to fly Lindestic.”
“I can run,” he said. “I am well abled and-”
“No, I need you to fly,” she suddenly snapped throwing Lindestic off.
“Adridge?”
“Give me that,” she said stepping forward. He tried to intervene by twisting his body side ways so she couldn’t grab the bird but instead she lifted his bladed feathers causing the still blinded bird to fall to the ground rapidly flapping its wings as unknown panic griped its tiny mind.
“Adridge stop,” he pleaded trying to stand over it.
“Move!” she yelled as she shoved the larger stallion off using her dark armor as leverage sprawling him onto the floor.
“Adridge please, I can run,” he said as he quickly tried to pick himself back up, but when he looked he saw she had already drawn her sword and had raised it above her head. He yelled and in a moment had covered the bird with the armaments of his wings but when her blade came crashing down it held true to its strength, but his wing. So frail had been snapped were her blade had struck and in short time he passed out from sheer pain alone.
Adridge looking at what she had done, the bird still panicking, Lindestic slightly bleeding Rechon staring in shock at what he just witnessed his two most trusted friends do. She fell back on herself dark armor, black cape and all.
She looked to the village, how peacful they seemed as night wanders trod about the street unaware of everything. Of Igneous, of the Istudians, of them and the ensuing danger. Igneous intended for them not to know but was that really the best options. Do they deserve to know and at least stand to protect their livelihoods. Surely he would have thought so.
It was her call what happened next as Lindestic lay unconscious, and the consequences soon after were hers to bare. 

E2	Igneous had been effectively bound and tied down. His catalyst had been set with a ring made of the dust used to forge binding stones effectively stopping him from performing magic. They kept him in a tent which was one of many they put up for the night.
Taking turns one after the other warriors would come in spouting their hatred for his lineage and leave soon after. During a few selected rants a few warriors boasted of how they were building a grand mount fit for a prince. Fit for Igneous. A claim backed up by the sounds of craftsmen hard at work. Warriors would enter and later leave wilse another would enter taking post to verbally assault Igneous and trade out once again following the same trend till the night took hold of weariness. Igneous never answered not in part of stoic acceptance but because he was far too weak. Severely injured with a wound held together loosely by light magic. His face and maw was raw from the severe beating he took from Quariomy and her war now infamous ‘prince slaying flathead.’ A title that needed work as he could hear the warriors idly discussing titles for the now famed weapon.
His swords had been taken, his shield broken, his armor shattered, his magic bound. He had nothing. No alternative but to cooperate and come what may. Late into the night when he thought no other Istudian would bother his hunch was proven wrong when he heard the rattling of mail and clacks of plated armor as one more character entered, and unlike the rest, was alone. 
“Prince of Noriphmy,” his voice rumbled. He recognised the tune. The voice of the general who directed the duel. Now he himself come to greet Igneous in the flesh. Igneous rolled his head over lacking the strength to lift it only glancing at his beholder. General Horace. Leader of the Istudian army. And with a stark grin he pulled a knife and advanced in indignation. Standing over Igneous he slowly pressed the edge of the blade against the side of Igneouses face were as he closed his eyes in meger defence.
Against his frail, bruised skin the blade threatened to tear away at his flesh. He gasped in pain and helplessness.
“You know not the fury of the Istudians warriors,” he growled. “One mark will suffice. One cut.”
Just as his blade completely bore into him, the general, his name was called. Loud amidst the sea of relatively tranquil silence, it made even the most stern of patrols jump in sudden agitation. “General Horace!” Opening his eyes, he looked passed the hooves of Horace to see Quariomy standing beneath the folds of the tent entrance. 
Horace stood in attention hiding the blade putting it back in its scabbard tucked neatly between his satchel that hung at his side and the protective plating he wore. Stepping forward away from Igneous he fully presented himself to the princess with a chin held high.
Stepping forward she carefully eyed the general staring him directly into the eyes as he looked slightly upward towards the sky avoiding her glance. Speaking slowly and very carefully she said, “As to what are you doing? Affiliating with a prisoner of war?”
“No your highness,” he answered with the slightest of nervous cracks in his voice. “I was-”
“Look me in the eyes,” she commanded. She stood so near that when Horace lowered his chin he had to pull his neck back as to not accidentally nuzzle her. How embarrassing. Igneous watched as they locked gazes but only for an instance. Standing up to this taller Stallion she then broke eye contact peering over his shoulder to Igneous. Stepping past Horace she rounded him pulling his concealed knife effortlessly examining it as she circled the stallion faintly nervous but nervous nonetheless. “As to what did I command you to do?” she asked never taking her eye away from the blade.
“Account for all the warriors of the third brigade your highness,” he said ceasing to skip a beat. “Take stalk of weapons, armor, food supplies and equipment.” he came again. “Post guards perform a perimeter check review battle plans and report back to you.”
“Now tell me,” she said with the same calm stoic voice as before, still circling like a wolf toying with its prey. “Have you counted every head of the third brigade?”
“Yes my princess,” he immediately answered.
“Did you take stalk of supplies?”
“Yes my princess.”
Igneous already knew she knew the answers to each oncoming question.
“Did you post guards, check the perimeter and review the battle plans?”
“Yes, my princess.”
“Now,” she said coming around to the front of him still toying with the blade as she spoke. “Were you, and this, may have slipped my mind, but were you to affiliate with the prisoner?”
“...no. My princess.”
“What were your intentions,” she said breaking orbit continuing forward directly in front of Horace.
He hesitated. Swallowed, then said, “My princess... I cannot lie-”
“To make a MARK!!!” Horace’s head cocked to the side and the blade buried itself within the dirt before Igneous. Looking up he saw the all too familiar crimson blood drip from Horace’s face. Horace swallowed deeply but still remained unmoving from his place. Walking past Horace she paused in her stride and said, “You are to not purge this scare. You’re fortunate I don't feed you to the champion. Let it remind you of this transgression.” Then she hissed, “Out of my sight.”
“Yes my princess,” said he, obeying her wish, leaving without a word or a knife.
Igneous fell under the gaze of Quariomy were as he could only look without lifting his head due to lack of energy. “Only hours remain Igneous,” she said. “This war will be fought with ferocity and triumph. Mark my word it will rival that of the first hundreds of years ago.” She turned to leave but before she disappeared Igneous to the best of his ability commanded her to wait though it was more of a breathless grunt she understood. Answering she said, “and what is it my dear prince?”
He had to tell her. It's what she deserved. Her warriors wanted blood but not the blood of the innocent that much was clear but the blood of the honorable and the blood of the worthy. She wanted an epic war were two armies would clash, weapons swinging, arrows flying, bodies writhing, ponies dying.
Every warrior weather this warrior hailed from Noriphmy, Istudious or Freath, they followed a word of honor. After the barbaric first war were any living bodie was fair game any laborer was fit for death, Carridian, the successor to the invader, conqueror, and king Kordan Verex. Carridian decreed that if there ever be a war weather it was between two villages or whole Nations that the warriors represented may slay only those of arms and weaponry. Warrior, militia or roge all of which fit for the blade but neither a farmer logger or minner my dare have his hide slickened by the blade of an attacker.
There was no other war but the warriors themselves longed and thirsted for battle tirelessly slaying thieves and bandits for hundreds of years. Maybe if he told her now he would suffer the ensuing wrath. It was only the polite thing to do. So with the best of his greatest respects undercut by his sheer weakness he said, “Noriphmy... has no armies...” (Boi thats very articulate)



C4	There he stirred and Adridge came back to attention as she patently sat nearby. Lindestic slowly came to opening his eyes to the darkened room with moonlight that poured in through the shudders and crags of the wall providing thin streams of visibility.
He pushed himself up in the cot he laid in as he finally came to. His wing bandaged his armor removed, his gauntlets and bladed feathers taken. Guiltily Adridge said, “I'm, sorry Lindestic.” He didn’t answer. Just then there was a flurry of excitement and Adridge held up both hooves saying, “It seems some one’s excited to see you.” It was the Cardinal bird with eyes that still remained shut. He looked outside pulling down the shutters with his hoof for a better view. The sight wasn’t savory. Adridge sitting quietly said, “I told them Lindestic. They had a right. They know of what's to come.”
Ponies ran through the streets while others bore armor obviously having never been in proper battle. Carrages did their best to leave though the masses with as much as they owned packed on the back with colts and fillies worriedly sitting atop the mass waiting to leave just as much as their parents who pulled it. Shopkeepers rushed to take down their stalls places of business flooding the streets with carts of their own. Lines just short of a mile long flooding out of the village.
The ones who were armored feverishly drank to drown out their better senses to run. Some were perfectly sober having taken a vow to protect the village they lived in for years. All were unorganised, none could claim leadership. Slowly he let the blinds pull pack up to their places sparing Lindestic from the saddening view. A threat greater than even than that of a dragon driving them from their homestead. “Where's Rechon,” he asked leaning back into his cot.
“Spreading the word,” she replied. “Deep into Noriphmy.”
“You're aware of why Igneous had said not for you to do that,” he said slowly shaking his head, staring at nothing as he glared at the ground. “For this very reason. They take to arms now. May lack the qualities of a formidable threat but one to be exterminated by the armies of Istudius regardless.”
A moment later he began to hear the sounds of whimpering. He looked over to Adridge to see this dark armored smaller mare begin to start crying and he knew why. She had scarcely spoken of how terrifying being the leader of a group of friends is especially when your decision could get them all killed. Only now she made one on a much grander scale.
It was a hard decision were not deciding still was in and of itself, a decision that would cost the lives of thousands if not hundreds of thousands. She made her call however hard it was and now she just couldn’t bear the potential repercussions of her actions. To let them possibly be killed while they slept or to give them a chance to fight putting them in a position to be rightfully killed. “I’m sorry Lindestic.” Lips trembling, tears streaming, body quivering. This was the first time Lindestic ever saw Adridge herself, a beacon of hope to manny. Often a proud symbol of protection to the little ones, a living body of defence, begin to so shamelessly cry. Right there and then. “I’m so sorry,” she said tears spilling down her face as she softly let the bird down on the floor before she too fell in her emotionally ridden state. Laying on the ground in tears, udderly vulnerable like never before. It sickened Lindestic to see her like this.
This wasn’t the Adridge he knew. This wasn’t the Adridge he ever saw. This wasn’t the Adridge that stood against beast of all kinds, combated bandits of any number, who saved countless villages and villagers. The Adridge who saved Igneous the unbenounced prince of Noriphmy himself so long ago since before princehood. This might have well been a stranger, a different beast altogether. He wanted Adridge back, the village needed her. In their desperate time of need as the melita took up arms serving as the only line of defense to an otherwise defenceless Nation.
It wouldn’t be long before all of Noriphmy knew and most of which may put their own lives on the line in fear of their livelihoods justifying their slaughter. “Stop,” he said gently. “Please stop crying.”
“I'm sorry Lindestic,” she said. “It's too much. Its simply too much.”
He scooped the bird off the ground with his good wing softly tucking it into his side. He kneeled down next Adridge still moping unable to come to terms with herself, completely ripped, her black cape draped across the floor. He said, “Adridge. Those stallions and mares out there. They suit themselves in armor and bare up swords, clawed gauntlets and fixed weaponry. They long to fight for their village but have not a right and proper leader to guide them.” Art of the word. Worked thrice on three separate occasions and intended a fourth in this moment. Encourages all, gives strength to any. Even a scared broken leader. “Take up your curved sword. Honer this cape like always. Remember the days you were a filly that fateful snowy day. Honer the memory of the wrongfully condemned falconer. The one who saved your very life, many, years, ago. Qudake Hongarious.”

B3	Adjusting his armor, rattled his crossbows, shook off the sweat and dirt buried within his fur and mane as Oxinum continued forward beneath the cooling sun signifying the change of a season. Floritha too as her metal made hoofs strided on after the other over the dirt terrain. She so very badly wanted to talk some sense into her friend but knew the cause, she knew his nature. Self worth of himself.
Manny months ago he was completely helpless as he watched Dettetcheny die, was utterly powerless when he mistakenly killed his teacher and now again with his leader having been captured he had the sense that he could avert yet another loss. Only she knew and he refused to see how helpless it was.
For many more miles they treked through woods and plains when a he abruptly stopped. Looked to him in concern. “Oxinum?”
Meekly he said, “Call me by my real name Floritha. For what I’ve put you through. You deserve it.” He patted the dirt he stood on lightly tossing aside the soil. “We will wait here hide ourselves beneath the leaves and bushes. Infiltrate their ranks as they travel. Rescue Igneous soon after.”
Only one dilemma with two unattainable solutions. “Oxinum,” his ears flicked up. “There is no armored warrior of Istudious who doesn’t bear a catalyst or is without wings. We don’t even bare their armor.”
“I know,” he said as he begun to shudder. “I know, I know, I know.” And sadly began to weep.  With shakiness in his breath he uttered, “Those... Dafted unicorns…” His eyes illuminated with ferocity and in his maw he kept safe a cylinder. The explosive end of an explosive wooden bolt. “I will make them pay.”