In Which Troubling Information Is Revealed
The Field of Trials, part of the greater Regia complex, was a building with a unique and unusual history. Its construction in the early days of the Kingdom had been fiercely opposed by most of the nobility, who had held the purse strings to the project, on the grounds that it emulated the culture and values of the empire they had just seceded from. Those who supported it, mainly the common ponies, did not quite have the political or economic clout to push for its advance.
The eventual decision was made, as so many were in those days, by the young Evening Lady herself, Twilight Everstar. Calling upon the sacred powers she had taken for her own in the previous conflict, she had called forth the Field of Trials whole and true from the bones of the mighty earth, raising it as a towering testament to the bravery of the Evening Kingdom’s warriors with as much thought as a lesser pony would give to the Sunday wash.
Upon the outraged protests of the nobility, she had calmly informed them that she would be reclaiming the history of Equestria for her own ends, that the arena was here to stay, and if they disliked her decision, they were more than welcome to attempt to put it back under the earth. This stance had shaped policy in the Kingdom for centuries to come, and had nipped the burgeoning arrogance of the noble houses squarely in the bud.
The arena itself was a proud building hewn from what appeared to be a single piece of marble, which had not in four hundred years weathered or cracked in the slightest. Ornamented with arches and statues in three tiers, it was able to seat more than twenty thousand ponies as spectators, and a series of columns and platforms above provided both shelter for the earthbound spectators as well as a resting place for an additional five thousand Pegasi.
The floor of the arena was made of thousands of hexagonal tiles, able to be adjusted at a moment’s notice via magic into a variety of configurations, from hills and hollows to mazes and interconnected platforms. They were watertight as well, allowing for the arena to be flooded if necessary for certain trials. In a city full of wonders, the Field of Trials was considered one of the most revered and respected. It was certainly one of the oldest.
The series of tunnels and preparation chambers beneath the Field of Trials, known as the hypogeum, were a welcome relief from the brightness and bitter wind that occupied the rest of the arena. Glowing the soft yellows and blues of magelights, the complex beneath the arena floor boasted three separate medical facilities, an enormous armory, and even private chambers for competitors to compose themselves in and rest on small cots and benches. The second level, deeper beneath the floor of the arena, was home to numerous containment pens, rarely used, for the keeping of animals used in the quadrennial lucanturs held in the city.
It was into these tunnels that Vino rushed, armor a-clatter, with the fervent hope that he would not be considered disqualified for his lateness. He had no idea how to get to the staging area for the fights, and was worried he would need to wander, but his fears were soon assuaged by a guard at the entrance to the tunnels.
“Name?” the mustachioed sergeant demanded unhurriedly, checking a roster by his side.
“Vino of House Hedera,” the young knight replied, scraping the ground nervously.
“You’re in the second group of fighters,” the guard replied, “Also known as Manticore. Down this hall, take the first three rights. You’re late, but then the competition’s been delayed. Hurry.”
Vino thanked the guard and bolted into the tunnel, hooves echoing off the walls. The ground underneath his shod hooves was roughly cobbled, in contrast to the rest of the walls, which were precisely cut, clearly the product of skilled unicorn artisans.
Vino hurried around the first corner, noting as he rushed past them that the walls were also decorated with tiny bas relief images of combat and heroic deeds, knights and dragons and Fae all clashing in a jumbled and beautiful mess. Soon enough, he arrived at a door made of bronze banded in iron, through which muffled voices could be heard. Thinking better of knocking, Vino simply opened the door and walked in.
The room was filled with the chatter and laughter of what looked to be at least thirty fighters, all of whom appeared to be gathered around a single low table, hewn from one solid piece of wood that gleamed a dark red under the glow of the lights. On the table was a tray, upon which rested a single band of blue silk. One of the warriors, a grizzled old unicorn with a red mane and white coat, looked up from polishing his weapon, a hefty looking axe, and grinned.
“Looks like the last of us has arrived!” he shouted, and the entire rest of the group turned to Vino and let out a cheer, a few waving before turning back to the table, their weapons, or their companions. The unicorn shouldered his axe and trotted over to vino, the studded leather of his armor swinging in time with his beard, braided and threaded with silver rings and woven through with a green ribbon that matched his eyes, which sparkled with good cheer. He stuck out one hoof, which Vino took gratefully.
“Welcome, lad. I’m Afi. Afi Refrsson. And if yonder roster’s to be believed, you’d be Vino of Hedera, unless I am very much mistaken!”
Vino found an instinctive like for this pony, who had greeted him so warmly. “Call me Vino,” he said by way of greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Afi grinned, exposing a golden tooth. “And a pleasure to meet you as well!” he boomed. “I’ll admit, Vino, we were beginning to get worried! There’s a full thirty of us here, and the roster’s a bit out of tilt if one’s missing!”
His horn lit up red, and the ribbon floated off the table, hovering in front of Vino. “Take the ribbon,” he said. “Tie it on somewhere. You’ll be identified by it when you’re fighting your opponent.”
“We’re fighting each other?” Vino asked. “It’s a tournament?”
“Each of us gets a round against another member of the group, someone other than your color of ribbon. You’ll be fighting no Manticores today,” Afi explained. “Instead you’ll be fighting ponies from Dragon today. It’s a grand melee!”
“And I take it you belong to Dragon?” Vino asked, realizing what the green ribbon in Afi’s beard meant. “If the Manticores wear blue.”
“Aye, lad. I’m with Dragon.” Afi said proudly. “I met most of my team members, and they’re upstanding types, but a little too ‘city’ for my tastes. Lots of shiny uniforms and shinier commissions.”
“You know, if you make it into the new Guard, you’ll be wearing one of those uniforms and have one of those commissions,” Vino warned him.
Afi grinned broadly. “I certainly hope so, lad!” he exclaimed. “Life as a Ranger tends to be short and hard. If I give good service, I can retire comfortably with a nice chest of gold for my trouble.”
“I take it you’re not doing this out of any sense of duty?” Vino asked drily.
Afi’s face grew somber. “I’ve served this Kingdom faithfully for many a year, lad,” he warned, “But I’m getting older and losing steps slowly. Duty might be enough for you young colts full of piss and vinegar, and it did me as well, but I can’t be a Ranger forever, and duty won’t keep the hearth warm or the belly full when you’re older. I intend to give good service for four or five years and take my leave.”
He perked up. “But that’s me, lad!” he said. “I’m a simple pony. I’d like to think I’m dependable and not hard to read. What about you? Your armor is new, I can tell. And you do not act like so many knights I have seen in my time. Who are you to have garnered such an invitation?”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Vino said, “But I’m not sure why I was invited to try for a Guard position. I knew Lady Serale growing up, but aside from that, I’m nothing special. I’m good with a gun and a blade, but that’s about it.”
Afi looked at him closely. “You know,” he said, “You remind me of somepony. Somepony familiar. You said you were a Hedera? Was your father Silvanus Hedera, by any chance?”
“You knew my father?” Vino asked incredulously.
“Knew him?” Afi said. He barked with laughter. “Lad, I studied alongside him at the Academy! He and I had rooms across from one another! Now I know I’m old, I might get the chance to fight alongside the sun of Silvanus! Imagine that!”
“What was he like?” Vino demanded. “He never talked much about his service, even though everypony else did. Is it true he was in Lady Everstar’s guard? Did he really fight up north?”
Afi nodded. “It’s true,” he said. “He fought against Minotaur raids up north, and fought like a true warrior. Always where the fight was thickest, and never gave ground if he could help it. And he was in the Crown Guard at one point. He didn’t stay long, though. He had a family at that point, wanted to give them a better life. Resigned his commission, hung up his sword, and started into trading. A damn shame, too. Haven’t seen a warrior quite like him since.”
Vino contemplated what he had been told. His father had been tight-lipped about the days before Vino’s birth as a rule, and the only time he had ever been forthcoming about his service had been when Vino had found a box full of his old medals on display in his father’s parlor. Calmly, Silvanus had informed his son of what each one meant, citations for bravery, ribbons for certain tours of duty, and so on. He had not told him what each one was awarded for. It was then and remained today one of the great mysteries of Vino’s childhood, one of the many that had surrounded his father and his work.
“You’ve gone awfully quiet,” Afi observed. “Nervous?”
Vino shook himself out of his reverie. “No,” he said, not really sure if he believed it, “I’m not. Why would I be nervous?”
Afi grinned. “I would be nervous. You see that pony over there? The one in the dark armor?”
Vino looked where he was pointing. Sure enough, standing alone in one corner was a pony all in black, from the heavy looking plate armor they wore to the sturdy wool cloak on their back. The pony in question was currently engaged in maintenance of their shield, which was without device and heavily used. A helmet wrought in the shape of a snarling wolf concealed their head.
“That’s one of the most fearsome fighters in recent years,” Afi said. “Whoever it is, they don’t go by any name, don’t display any loyalties to a House I’ve heard of, and haven’t been beaten yet. He’s only known by the title of ‘Mace.’ On account of the mace, you see.”
Vino noticed the extraordinarily large mace leaning up against the wall, and dimly realized that he was shaking a bit. For the pony wearing that armor to be able to wield that mace, they would have required massive strength.
Afi gestured to another corner, where three ponies in armor were chatting with one another, two of whom looked remarkably similar, one stallion and one mare with similarly braided black manes and palomino coats, green ribbons twined in their tails. Their only separating features were the veritable holocaust of scars running over their bodies. “Those twins over there are from the southern lands, learned most of their tricks from the buffalo. They fight with spears like nopony I’ve ever seen, back to back. The lad’s named Red Tail, and the lass is named Silent River. They’re inseparable.”
“Sounds like you’re in good company,” Vino said warily.
“Aye, though they’re the only ones with any real backbone,” Afi said cheerfully. “Most of the rest are uniformed types and knights like yourself. No offense, Vino,” he added quickly. “If you’re anything like your father, I’m sure you’re a true terror on the battlefield.”
Vino stretched his neck idly, gazing up towards the ceiling, but stopped short. “There’s something up there,” he said quietly. “Perched on the rafter.”
Afi glanced up and grinned when he saw what Vino was talking about. “That’s Ahan,” he said quietly. The shape perked up. “He’s a dirty rotten bastard who wouldn’t know the sharp end of his pike if you shoved it up his arse.”
The shape detached itself from the ceiling, spreading massive wings as it did so, and landed in a flurry of feathers and fur before the two ponies. The gryphon drew itself up to a towering height, the brown leather of his armor nearly matching the shade of his plumage. “And you, Afi Refrsson, are an imbecilic barbarian who picks his nose with his axe.”
He bowed his head ever so slightly in Vino’s direction. “I am Ahan of the Kingdom of Durmasagarti, son of Neezhoo, son of Mahtaram. It will be an honor to fight alongside you today,” he said, indicating the blue ribbon tied to the haft of his long spear, a strange looking weapon with a leaf bladed tip that shone sharply in the dim light.
Vino returned the favor, recalling a distant scrap of some etiquette lesson. He bowed low, making sure to lead with his left hoof instead of his right. “You do me honor,” he said. “I am Vino, son of Silvanus, son of Hedera. I beg your pardon for my rudeness.” What rudeness that was, he didn’t know, but he had been taught it was always better to err on the side of caution with gryphons, who were prideful and quick to anger.
Ahan snorted, an odd whistling sound that sounded almost like a chirp. “I left behind the old manners when I left my father’s home,” he said. “There’s no need to bow.”
Vino nodded. “It’s rare to see a gryphon so far north,” he said, “What brings you here?”
“Mercenary work,” Ahan replied scornfully. “I guard caravans making their way here. As well as other things. I made a name for myself a while back during a border conflict and was approached by a messenger from the castle asking if I wanted steady work. This was it.”
“Am I the only one who came here because I felt an obligation other than money?” Vino demanded incredulously. “No offense to either of you, but I’m wondering why Serale Everstar decided to create a guard apparently comprised of soldiers for hire.”
“A good mercenary is oftentimes better than their more ‘altruistic’ counterpart,” Ahan said calmly. “You get a job, you sign a contract, you complete the job, and you get paid. If you break the contract, you don’t get paid, and you don’t get hired as easily. Whereas honor and loyalty will only last as long as a warrior has faith in them.”
Vino blinked. “I…hadn’t thought of it like that,” he said. “I suppose that makes sense, who knows how long Lady Serale will need this guard? It’s better to have a group of good hired ponies…or gryphons,” he amended, “Than somepony whose only tie to her is loyalty.”
Afi smiled. “You’re not as dense as you look, lad,” he said, clapping him on the back. “Besides, you’re not the only pony here who showed up because of loyalty.”
“I’m not?” Vino asked.
“Of course not!” Afi exclaimed. “Just the only interesting one.”
“Attention!” a new voice called from the doorway, and the room fell silent. An imposing pony, wearing the bars and stars of a high-ranking officer in the castle Guard, strode into the room, bearing a tray of small cups in his telekinetic grip. Two watery blue eyes peered out from under an expertly cut mane of greying (and thinning) blonde hair, and a mustache that looked like it had seen better days was perched precariously on the end of his nose.
“I am Major-General Bombard, the Commander of the Watch for the Field of Trials. Today’s match is a very simple one. The lot of you have been divided into two teams. Manticore, signified by a blue ribbon, will be fighting against Dragon, signified by the green ribbon, in a grand melee. The last six standing on either team will be accepted into the newly formed Guard under Lady Serale as its leading officers.”
He proffered the drinks as the assembled warriors began to gather round. “These are potions of discorporation specially calibrated by top mages. You will feel perfectly solid to your teammates and most of your surroundings, but there is a catch. You will be unable to be harmed by the weapons of your opponents, save for a certain effect which I shall elaborate on. And for those of you disreputable sorts who think to harm your teammates in order to better your chances, think again. That has been accounted for.”
The tray was passed around. Vino noticed the liquid was colored either blue or green, and he discretely picked a blue potion off the tray, noting who did likewise.
“If you are ‘struck’ a fatal or debilitating blow by one of your opponents, you will discorporate, reforming back here in this preparation room. You will be compensated for your time and escorted from the arena with honor. Keep in mind that this effect only applies to those who have consumed the differently colored potion from your own, the properties of which last for an hour. Drink these potions now.”
Vino did as he was told, draining his in a single gulp. It tasted faintly of berries, and he felt a dizzy rush for the briefest moment, but it quickly cleared. His fellows did likewise.
“Wonderful,” the Major-General said. “Collect your things, contestants. The melee is set to begin in ten minutes.”
Vino stood by along with the other knights who had carried their weapons with them as the non-regular types collected their equipment. He used the opportunity to quickly tie the blue ribbon around his foreleg, above the knee. He noticed that many of the knights wore green. Afi had been right, then, most of his compatriots were ones he would be fighting against.
A few wore blue, though, raising the visors of their helmets to smile at him or simply nodding at him encouragingly. Gradually, the other contestants began to file back. Ahan stood next to Vino, his stance and expression calm.
“Are you ready, son of Silvanus?” he inquired gently. “You smell of fear. Your first taste of battle?”
“I got here two weeks ago,” Vino muttered, “And already I’m in over my head.”
“If that were true, you would not be here,” Ahan said. “I sense greatness in you, Vino of Hedera. The blood of ancient powers runs in your veins. Have faith in yourself and trust your senses. You are capable of more than you know.”
“Teams form into lines!” General Bombard called. Vino fell in behind Ahan, near the back of the line. He scraped at the cobbled floor nervously. One of the knights in green noticed this and murmured something to his compatriot, who snickered quietly. Vino tried not to notice and kept his eyes forward.
“Open the door!” the General called. The great wooden door creaked open, and he took the head of the column, which began to file out of the room.
Vino tried to quash his nerves, and took a few deep breaths as they stepped out into the hallway. He didn’t know why, but his senses were telling him that something was very, very wrong.
Libra was an apparently direct mare, if nothing else. If a problem presented itself that she had solved a certain way in the past, she was one to attempt the same method again. She kept a simple schedule, lived an almost ascetic lifestyle, and was plain and forthright in her speech as a rule. However, this was merely a façade, a veneer of civil placidity that veiled a much more complex and wily mind than would appear to the average pony. Her opponents, both political and otherwise, had oftentimes learned this the hard way, and far too late.
So when a summons arrived for her in the middle of a potion brewing session with a young mare hardly more than a filly herself, Libra’s response, while seemingly direct, was a simple indicator of a much grander scheme. She reassured her new apprentice, whom she judged able to handle her unfortunate affliction for a brief period, banished her to the field where she was supposed to be attending and was already late, and, checking to ensure her robes and hat were not askew, reached through the fabric of time and space and magic to answer her mistress’s summons.
It was a curious thing, she thought to herself as she traveled near-instantaneously through the use of her spell. She was being disassembled and reassembled, a task she had performed countless times. Theoretically, she could go anywhere she knew of, anywhere she could hold a picture of in her mind. Within reason, of course. Trips to far-distant lands were still beyond her. But anywhere in this castle, or indeed anywhere in the city itself, was no more than a brief thought away for the Magus.
The door she appeared in front of with a loud pop was made of simple stone, completely inaccessible through mundane means, and did not appear in the plans for the Regia. Nopony save Lady Everstar had any idea where in the castle it was, or even if this particular room was in the Regia to begin with. And even more curiously, travel by magical means into or out of the room beyond the door was simply impossible. No magical spells could be detected in its making; no runes were visible to any of Libra’s senses or arcane trials. And yet, she could only ever enter or exit by a single door.
It was upon this door that Libra knocked thrice, her blows echoing far longer than they should, and waited patiently.
The door split open down the middle, swinging open on massive and silent hinges to reveal a most curious room. A gentle breeze, warm and soft, blew through the air, carrying with it the scent of jasmine and roses and pine. It stirred the branches of great trees and rippled through fields of grass, softly causing the world to undulate under the pale light of a summer morning. Birdsong filled the air, and as Libra watched, a pair of rabbits raced across the footpath in front of her, headed for their burrow by the bank of a creek running swiftly, chuckling to itself.
The fact that this room existed without care, or that it existed at all, was not what made it unusual, far from it. What made it unusual was that every last thing was made of stone.
The grass was soft to the touch, and even smelled like fresh grass, but to pluck a blade would be useless folly. The tree’s leaves occasionally fell, far more swiftly than they should, before disappearing and reappearing back on their branches before hitting the ground. The rabbits were friendly, but their weight was substantial and their fine hair was nothing more than stone cunningly crafted, or perhaps they were the victims of some curse that had befallen this place in ancient times. So too did the birds glance at her curiously, the stone eyes in their heads reminding her uncomfortably of the gazes of the dead.
Libra steeled herself and stepped into the room, the door whispering shut behind her. She followed the path before her down towards the banks of the river, where she knew her mistress would be waiting for her. If she closed her eyes, she knew that she would be able to fool herself into thinking she was wandering through some bucolic meadow. But nothing here greeted her gaze but the hardness and greyness of stone, save for in one spot.
A splash of color was silhouetted on the bank, a small wooden table set for two, along with a chair upholstered in red and a stool with a cushion of the same color. On the table rested a crystal pitcher filled with crystal clear water, brought from outside. The water here set in the throat like concrete. Upon the stool was a Pegasus in leather armor, with a coat of black and livery of rose pink, drinking deeply from a glass in front of her. Upon the chair sat Lady Everstar, sovereign of the Evening Kingdom and the undisputed champion of her subjects. She looked frightened.
“Libra,” she greeted the unicorn, “Good of you to come so quickly.”
Libra gave a curt bow. “I live to serve, Milady.”
“This is Stella,” Lady Everstar continued, and Libra saw that there was indeed a star on the Pegasus’s flank, trailing what appeared to be feathers in its wake. “She flew here nonstop for two days and nights to deliver a message to me from Princess Cadance. Stella, would you mind repeating the message? It’s alright, I trust Libra like I do myself.”
Stella finished her glass of water and addressed the Magus. When she spoke, it was with a high-pitched, piping voice, stilted with the accent of a native New Classical speaker. “Buongiorno,” she said. “The Dawn Princess, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza Allegretta, sends her warmest greetings and salutations to her colleague, Lady Twilight Everstar, Duchess of the Forest and Keeper of the Evening. She wishes to inform you that her search for the Witch of the Woods, known to her as Radiant Zenith, has been unfruitful. Even with all her power, searching across the land, she was unable to find Radiant Zenith, which she finds worrisome in the extreme.”
The Pegasus paused for air. “She can find no trace of her, nor any lingering emotion in the areas she would frequent indicating a sense of purpose which would indicate a desire to travel. My Princess is nonplussed, and awaits the recommendation of her colleague before she will attempt to search further. Princess Cadenza sends her regards, wishes the Lady her continued good health and cheer, and awaits a response via this courier, who she feels to be more trustworthy than means of magical communication.”
Stella paused respectfully to allow Libra time to process this information. “This concludes the message,” she said helpfully.
“Thank you Stella,” Lady Everstar said. “I’d like you to go for a walk while I discuss this with my advisor.”
Stella smiled brightly before hopping off the stool and trotting off down the road, not looking back once. A butterfly appeared to catch her interest, and she was pursuing it soon enough. Libra watched her go, feeling a pang of sympathy for the marked Pegasus.
“Well?” the Lady asked. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s bad news,” Libra said. “If Princess Cadance couldn’t find her, even with her power…”
“Then something’s wrong,” Twilight said. “My thoughts exactly. Radiant Zenith doesn’t travel often except when I invite her to Court, and what travels she does take are confined to the Everfree Forest. If she’s not there…”
“Her power is invested in the Forest,” Libra mused. “I thought she couldn’t leave, even if she wanted to.”
“And within the Forest, she’s the closest thing to a god there is,” Twilight continued. “Which means that whatever happened was big.”
“Powerful enough to take her down, but also discreet enough that we didn’t notice until now,” Libra said. “Who knows when this could have happened? What do you think happened?”
“I’ve got an awfully good guess, seeing as the most powerful beings in the world are ones I’ve been keeping track of except for one.”
“Discord?” Libra asked. “Cobblestone claimed he visited her this morning.”
“I noticed,” Twilight said. “As soon as he entered the Regia I had a spell trained on him that would have turned him into stone or worse. And I don’t think this was him. He doesn’t have the clout to take on Radiant, not anymore. Which leaves us with one option, the Shadow or one of its familiars.”
“If Princess Cadance sent this message to you, Milady, then there’s a very good chance Celestia received a messenger as well.”
“I’d thought of that,” Twilight acknowledged, “And Cadance is right to send a messenger instead of our usual magical communique. Whatever it was that could have handled Radiant Zenith would be more than powerful enough to eavesdrop on my conversations with the other Avatars. This throws other, more threatening implications my way. I’ll have to redouble the security spells on the tower, but in the meantime, I’m going to investigate her cottage.”
Libra bowed. “Very well. Shall I accompany you?”
Lady Twilight shot her a look. “Of course you’re coming. I’ll need your power in this as well, and two sets of eyes are better than one.”
“And what of the Pegasus?” Libra asked.
“I’ll leave her here. Odds are good she won’t even notice we’ve gone.”
Libra bowed her head in silent assent. Twilight took her hoof in her own, maintaining a firm but comfortable grip, and with a murmur, her horn lit up, shining brightly even in the sunlight of the room, a beacon of purple power in a sea of gray. Libra felt something tugging at the nape of her neck, and she felt herself swirling apart, tunneling through the fabric of reality for the second time that day.
As suddenly as it had begun, the ride was over. With a loud bang, the duo appeared in a small clearing, dead leaves crunching underhoof as they fell a few short inches to the ground. Libra took a moment to compose herself before drawing her sword smoothly out of its sheath with her magic and surveying the spot where they had landed.
A small house, set into the riverbank along which swift water flowed, greeted her, the brass knob in the doorway gleaming and well-polished in the weak light of the winter sun. A small chimney protruded from the embankment, seemingly jutting up from the top of a hill, and a single circular window overlooked the river and porch, which protruded into a dock where a small boat, hardly more than a skiff, was moored. It radiated welcome and good cheer, a beacon of civility in the undoubtedly hostile lands of the Everfree Forest, nearly a hundred miles from the city of Starfall.
At least, it would have radiated civility.
The door swung loosely in the wind, hanging crookedly within its frame. The window was shattered, letting air in alongside a massive hole in the wall, which had splintered the deck and snapped it in two. The boat was half submerged, protruding from the water like a gravestone. A small garden which had until recently held both vegetables and flowers lay churned up by heavy movement. Something was wrong, very wrong indeed.
“Stay close,” Twilight warned. “Whatever did this could still be around.”
The Magus and the Lady crept closer to the ruined house, their horns lit and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. As they approached, they began to notice other details. Burns littered the entryway, small spots where magical bolts had missed their mark. A knife, made of some sort of strange black stone, lay discarded and snapped in two, the point embedded in the door itself and the hilt laying in the disturbed soil. What was most unusual, however, were the clear prints by the door, and the jagged lines of claw marks.
Long lines scored into the door alongside splintered holes implied that something big and hungry, or many somethings, had battered their way through the door heedlessly, a move that had cost them dearly. It was clear by the smears of ash on the floor that the first attackers had run into Radiant Zenith’s wards. A print, one of many, was marked in the ash, an almost triangular central pad surrounded by four toes, each tipped with lethal claws.
“These are unusual marks,” Libra whispered as they crossed the threshold. Twilight nodded her assent.
The interior of the house was worse off than the exterior. The carefully crafted wood panels on the walls were shattered and cracked, and an old potbellied stove to one side was burst seemingly from the inside. Swatches of blood stained the walls dark brown, and a dozen pots lay crumpled in various places throughout the sitting room. A desk appeared to have been rammed through a nearby wall, its side stained with yet more blood and heavily dented, but not broken.
“No bodies,” Twilight murmured. “Radiant wasn’t holding back. This house has been abandoned for a while.”
“Look,” Libra said, indicating the study, visible through the open door and the hole in its wall. “There’s something in there.”
Twilight’s horn flared brighter, ready to fire off a dozen spells at a moment’s notice as they silently crept towards the study. She reached out with one hoof and pushed the door open wider, wincing slightly at the creak it made. Libra had been right. There was something in there.
The body was a crumpled mess, though its form was still relatively recognizable. Broad, powerful shoulders gave way to two long, sloping arms culminating in powerful prehensile paws, which mimicked the obscenely muscled legs that were at one point attached to its torso. A wide neck supported a head dominated by a brutish muzzle filled with sharp teeth, and pointed ears atop eyes that at one point had gleamed with mad intelligence, avarice, and bloodlust. It wore a short leather jerkin, and a cape made of feathers which were sickeningly similar to those on the wings of Pegasi, and was completely covered in mottled brown fur.
“Do you know what this is?” Libra breathed.
Twilight nodded. “I met a creature like this once, very long ago. They haven’t been seen under Celestia’s sun for the better part of two millennia.” She swallowed. “It’s a Diamond Dog. Diamond Dogs walk Equestria once more.”
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Why did you have to post 7 min. ago?
I'm in school I can't read it!!
5151638
Because I gain pleasure from your misery.
5151645 You do seem to revel in that...
And ooh! I'd completely forgotten about the Dogs! I hope Radiant's okay...
Oh hey, Diamond Dogs.
Is there some significance about Diamond Dogs that I'm missing? Last time I checked they weren't all that threatening... They just kept to themselves and dug for gems.
5151826
They are touched on here.
I can't, I just can't. *flips table*
Tourney begins, assassination drawing dreadfully near. I feel like a team similar to that from DDG should be forming. But no Changelings apparent, I can't remember if they died out or not.
Vino pls. Be spectacular.
Radiant Zenith is out of commission, at least it appears so. I wondered where she had gotten to. I'm almost certain that the diamond dogs would have help from some other source, because a pack of dogs by itself would have never have even made it past the door. Also, dogs that prey on ponies, not sure if that's canon in this universe, I can't remember if they were even mentioned at all.
How many more chapters until the end of book 3? This will end with something blowing up, I'm sure. Hundreds of civilian casualties. The death of no less than 3 major characters. And some more mind-bending magic on a scale that the English language can only barely describe.
And I'd like more giant earthen wolf golems. That'd be great.
Oh boy, a sequel of THAT series... hm... not sure.
5151842 Okay, thanks. I forgot they were even mentioned in that story.
5152079
Such was my intention.
5151996
Do it. You know you want to.
5152143
I just hope it's better than Dusk's dangerous game. That one was kinda bad. No offense. Well, not really bad, but not very good.
5152242
Yeah, that one got away from me near the end there. Lessons have been learned, and hopefully this time around I'll get it right!
5152315 I liked that one. Whatever, you can dislike it if you want. It is your story.
I don't know why Diamond Dogs are such a big deal, Rarity seemed to take care of them pretty easily without magic, and Twilight should be able to disintegrate them with barely a thought.
EDIT: other comments.
FYI proper English grammar is to use masculine pronouns for people with unknown genders, such as "A helmet wrought in the shape of a snarling wolf concealed his head". Afi is correct when he says "He’s only known by the title of ‘Mace.’ On account of the mace, you see.”
5158155
Why, I do believe you are correct! In this situation, it is both proper and appropriate to refer to a male fighter by male pronouns. I wonder why I chose to use neutral ones?
5160486
I think in Japan they use neutral pronouns if one is unsure of gender. I remember that they did that in the Soul Eater manga whenever Crona was mentioned.
5160793
And I think that you're on to something!
5151842 Pfft, they thought Celestia was cruel? They should see what happens when Twilight gets mad...
5161775
Someone once mentioned that there were a ton of Celtic symbolism in these stories, so maybe Hob is a Cat Sith? There's also the Cath Palug from Welsh mythology, and others.
"sun of Silvanus!" ... sun?
Nice Chapter!
Hmmm, wonder if 'Mace' is concealing a big facial burn scar under that helmet of theirs...
As noted above, Diamond Dogs showed up in canon. Is not being seen under the sun a technicality here?
That selection technique is inherently flawed.
If one team manages to push advantage early on (say, forming a line of defense, luring single opponents behind it and elliminating them in pincer attack), the field will quickly get unbalanced and the opposing team is very unlikely to recover lost advantage, being outnumbered. The balance will only shift further towards the victors, and it's likely the fight will end with twenty or so of the victorious team still standing. Not six. Also, standing back and avoiding combat is more likely to see you through than taking on the strongest enemies, rewarding cowardice.
A system where you gain a point for a 'kill' and lose for 'death', returning to fight immediately, would be much better, say, ending when six combatants exceed ten points each.
5487656 So pony Halo?
5487656 Serale isn't looking for honour or bravery, she's looking for independent cleverness and unconventional attitudes. Cowardice as an advantage fits well with that sort of preference.
5152315 I thought you did ddg very well it's to best one in the series what mistakes were made?
Holy runon sentence, Batmare!
Vino should be capitalized, and ought to know by this point in his military career that there is no such thing as "studded leather" armor. That was a misnomer applied to a brigandine by a layman who wanted to make a role-playing game.