The Wayfarers

by TheFictionAddiction

Chapter Seventeen: Benevolence and Reverence

Though they sat opposing each other, the mood of the grand study was not rivalrous in the least bit. It was quite the opposite, actually. The youthful captain regarded the seasoned warrior with near reverence. Quill always found Shining Armor’s respect for him flattering, though a fair bit misguided.

Poor lad doesn't have the Princess to hold his hoof anymore, and now he’s getting a taste of how foul the world can really be. Quill almost grimaced at the thought. Just bite back your pride and help the boy however you can, you old bird. Your judgements do nothing for either of you.

To Quill’s left Speira sat dutifully, just as alert and just as watchful as ever. Her eyes occasionally scanned the room, taking in every detail of the room. What she was trying to do was notice anything different about this place from her last visit. Eventually her gaze would stop upon the book laying on the table separating the pairs. A double edged sword --one side of the blade gilded and the other dark as obsidian-- was embroidered on its hardcover.

What a pretty thing, she had thought, almost absently, before turning her mind and attention to the stallions seated before her.

Much like the teachers, the students were seated across from one another. And Speckled Band was Shining Armor’s student, Quill was almost certain of it.

Quill couldn't exactly say how he came to such a conclusion, but it just seemed right. Someone in Shining Armor’s position needs someone to trust -- someone other than his wife, anyways. The captain needed a loyal soldier who would stand by him no matter what, not out of respect of rank or duty, but out of love.

And Speckled Band does love him, Quill thought, glancing at the corporal momentarily. I can see it whenever his eyes meet the Captain’s… It’s a look I've seen far too often from Speira.

“I hope your stay has continued to be comfortable,” Shining Armor said, flashing a smile that would have charmed serpents.

Quill thought of the Speckled Gem, with it’s rock hard bed that left Quill’s lower back stiff and its boisterous clientele which often kept Speira up late at the late hours of the night, and answered as truthfully as he could.

“It’s just as it always is.”

Shining Armor nodded approvingly. “That's good. I'm sure it must be quite the hassle to find decent lodging lately.”

“Nay, not here. Though not many accept us with open hearts, they dare not shut their doors to me while my coin purse is full.”

Though the smile remained, there was a touch of melancholy in Shining Armor’s voice. “It hurts to hear that's what it takes to make ponies hospitable…”

“Well, better to pay in bits of gold than bits of flesh and feather. The places we’ve been, a purse full of gold is a purse full of problems. Especially for a griffin.” Speira nodded dolefully.

“Don't get me wrong, though,” Quill added. “We’ve appreciated the business you've shown us these past months. It’s kept us housed and fed.”

This did not seem to ease Shining Armor, however.

“Still… I'm watching alienation and violence grab hold of my country, Lieutenant-” the title was a sandspur that Quill tried his best to shrug off.

“Day by day, hour by hour, it spreads and it spreads. Today's reports will be tomorrow’s nightmares… Celestia knows I won't be getting any sleep tonight…”

Something unexpected happened before the mercenaries, something neither of them had expected. With each word, Shining Armor’s geniality and composure crumbled in on him. His brow furrowed ‘till it seemed like canyon carved upon his forehead, while the sadness in his voice pulled and tugged at his features.

Quill had noticed the bags under his eyes a moment ago, but what commanding officer didn't have bags under their eyes? And a commanding officer that helped govern a city to boot? But now Quill saw that this luggage was heavy, heavy enough to give the young stallion a bad neck if he wasn't careful.

This was Shining Armor as he really was, before Quill and Speira had been shown in.

How well you hid yourself, Quill thought. How well indeed. Perhaps being raised in the Equestrian upper-class has done you some service, Shining Armor...

Though it pained Quill to, he said nothing. If Shining Armor had needed comfort, he would have called for Princess Cadence, not two sellswords.

“Sir…” The word was no more than a mutter, yet it almost seemed to echo over the table because the silence was so dense. Shining Armor looked to the Corporal, though he was the only one. Quill sensed what was about to happen and knew it was none of their business. Averting his gaze, he glanced at Speira. Thankfully, she returned it.

Before Shining Armor could speak the question in his eyes, Speckled Band touched him with a comforting hoof. It was not a gesture fit for a commanding officer and his subordinate. But for a friend and equal?

“You don't need to get into this, sir, not now and not with them.” Quill cracked a smile at “them”, but quickly loosened it. “It doesn't seem right to talk about such things in front of… guests.”

In all of Quill’s time, he had never heard a soldier of lower rank address a superior so kindly. It was becoming clearer and clearer to Quill that Speckled Band was more than just a Corporal.

Shining Armor patted Speckled Band’s hoof. “There's no need for any of that, Speck. Besides, I don't take Quill for a fool.” Then, to the mercenary himself, he added, “You can probably tell I'm not well off right now. Those tack-like eyes of yours miss little, don't they?”

Quill was polite enough to allow himself a flush. “They are quite keen, yes. Most tiny details I pick up out of experience, however.”

Quill found himself surprisingly put off by Shining Armor’s directness. To show such a side of himself, and to a griffin no less, seemed almost blasphemous to the old Wing Guard in him.

What did we do to earn the trust of some hatching, Equestrian stooge, that sulky, steely thing wanted to ask. The warrior he was, shaped and molded by some of the coldest and most ruthless claws to ever taste blood, wanted to writhe in revulsion at the prince’s hospitality and concern. The warrior he had become, however, had come to rely deeply on this unexpected friend and cherished the temperance to his spirit.

“I’m not sure what kind of reassurance it would give you,” Quill said, “But my ears are always open to you, Shining Armor, should you ever find that you need a few more.”

Shining Armor smiled, the weariness written there upon his face replaced with a slightly happier expression

“I appreciate that, I really do.” Quill could tell that he meant it too. “And perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer... sooner than you think, in fact.”

“Oh?”

Shining Armor nodded. “There are still some things I must figure out for myself first, as you may know.”

As a matter of fact, he did. Quill understood that Shining Armor valued his opinion, yet didn't want to become ruled over by it.

If only he had been better equipped, though, I'm not sure what part of Guard training could prepare a pony for ruling a province while still helping manage part of the country's military.

“Anyways, that's enough sulking for now, I think,” Shining Armor continued, some of his usual confidence reasserting itself. What a quick turnaround, Quill had thought. “Turns out I need your services yet again.”

“Ah? Another job? And so soon, too?” Quill smiled, allowing his talons to drum rhythmically upon the arm of his chair. “You're far too generous with your patronage.”

Speckled Band eyed those talons. Perhaps you're too generous, Captain, the Corporal thought. Fear nagged at the back of his brain as he studied those sharp, deadly things. Did they look… thirsty?

“What nobel pony shall we be escorting this time?” Quill inquired, genuinely released. He had surely suspected that Shining Armor wanted to discuss the bodies littering the main road.

Shining Armor returned his smile, a subtle twinkle of mischief barely missed, and touched his chest. “Why, that would be this noble pony here, sir griffin.”

Up until this point, Speira had seemed otherwise uninterested in this little meeting of theirs. Quill knew this for the ruse it was. Though the filly glanced about the grand study, seemingly more taken by the volumes reaching up to the ceiling than the talk of adults, she always had an ear tucked into Quill’s and Shining Armor’s conversation. Now, however, her attention turned to them in full, along with her wide eyes.

“That right?” Quill sounded mildly interested, though this was more to keep his own bewilderment at bay.

“Indeed. As we speak, a convoy is being constructed. Well… two convoys in fact. I'd like to hire the two of you as security for one of them.”

“A convoy, you say…”

Quill fell silent. Three sets of eyes moved to meet his face, to see what might be written there. As usually, he was a blank slate. Speira knew he was thinking, and thinking hard. His thoughts held the presence of an amassing thunderhead, brooding and slightly scary, yet completely intangible.

“I'd assume our destination would be Canterlot,” Quill said after a moment. “The Equestrian Landsmeet is less than a month's time away, so I couldn't see you amassing the resources for a trip elsewhere.”

“Astute as always,” Shining Armor remarked rather amiably.

Oh, you have no idea… The arrogant thought danced around Quill’s beak for a moment before he swallowed it, his pride a bitter pill that always left a sour taste in his mouth.

When Quill continued to sit and ponder in silence, Shining Armor felt his high spirits begin to falter. Perhaps with all the time he had spent with Quill, some of those keen powers of observation he admired so much were beginning to rub off on him. Shining Armor had the strangest inkling that something was amiss to the feathering mercenary.

“I hope you don't mind a few questions,” Quill said at long last. “We’re interested, of course, no doubt about that -royal gold goes a long way for a pair of sellswords like us- however, we’ll need to know more about the affair before we accept.”

“Of course. That's only fair.” Then, Shining Armor turned to Speckled Band. He whispered something into the Corporal’s ear. It would have been nothing for Quill to eavesdrop, but he decided to stave off his curiosity in the name of courtesy.

Speckled Band seemed to straighten in his seat. How much more attentive he seemed with Shining Armor’s lips in his right ear. Then, back to Quill, Shining Armor said, “Fire away.”

“Well, I'm mainly puzzled as to why a convoy. I understand railroads don't run much farther than your Crystal Empire, but we both know they do towards the Equestrian inland.

“I know it’s my not my place to ask, but why risk the perils of the road at such a time? It… simply makes me wonder.”

“Would you believe me if I said that I just prefer the solemness of a stagecoach?” Shining Armor answered, a touch sardonically.

“Not in the least bit, I’m afraid. You seem to be a pony above such trivialities. I only ask so that Speira and I are prepared for anything… unruly…”

Quill’s thoughts had turned to the small band of marauders they had left to rot. Such nuisances were starting to become the norm for the frozen roads of the north. There were even rumors that the wagon of a small-time business owner hauling raw gemstones was knocked over only a few miles out of Detrot. Quill knew that the young prince was brave of heart and strong of stomach, but he didn't think Shining Armor was feathered of brain.

The sideways glance the Captain received from Speckled Band told Quill everything that he had needed to know. There was something amiss about this job, something Shining Armor wasn't telling them. Perhaps it was even something dangerous.

Shining Armor cleared his throat before speaking. “There’s no need to worry, you're right to ask any questions you may need. I wouldn't want the two of you unprepared for anything, should you accept that is.”

Why do I feel that you're not about to comfort us? Why do I feel that the grim look in your eyes has nothing to do with the obvious sleep you're missing?”

“The truth is-”

“Sir!” Speckled Band should've been reprimanded for his sudden outburst, but Shining Armor only set him back in his place with a single, saddened look. This brief interaction between the two spoke waves to Quill, but he chose to acknowledge this adoration later.

“The truth is,” Shining Armor continued once more, the words seeming heavy in his mouth, “I believe there may be an attempt on mine and Cadence’s life on the way to the Landsmeet.

If nothing else was to come from this day, Shining Armor could at least end it knowing that he had finally managed to do the one thing that always seemed so impossible.

He had caught Quill off guard.

****

A feathered brow furrowed slightly, the eyes beneath studying the night outside through a grimy window. Speira hated it when Quill was like this. As open as he was with some things, his thoughts always remained little more than a mystery to her.

Speira stifled a yawn in the crook of her right leg and watched her mentor through lidded eyes. The day had been terribly long, and now that she had found the comfort of her own bed again, she feared that it might just consume her along with her weariness. Not even the raucous down below -and it sounded like the Speckled Gem was fit to burst- was enough to stave away the undenying weight of her eyelids.

“Something wrong, Papa?” Speira asked, blinking a few times. The sound of her voice was enough to keep her upright at least, but for how long?

Quill glanced at his daughter, saw her head bob and her eyes flicker, then smiled. “It's been quite the day for you, hasn't it, my dear? Your exercises this morning, then the trip to the castle this afternoon. I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner.”

“I'm fine,” she answered, almost defiantly, “Just a little tired. What's wrong, Papa?”

Quill chuckled. “Speira, my dear, you look ready to keel over. I've seen corpses with more life in them.” Then, his features hardening, he added, “Now, lay yourself down and get some sleep. We can discuss things later.”

The weight of the world seemed to accompany Quill’s gaze, yet Speira held it with all the grace and poise that she had been taught. If it wasn't for the earlier triumph, when she had mustered the courage to request that Quill let her explore the crystal city, then maybe she would've have shrunk back into her sheets and slept.

Not now, however. Speira was feeling brave. So brave that she managed to rise up on four shaky legs and hop down to the floor. The day’s exercises had finally started to take its toll, leaving the lean muscles of her legs cramped and sore, but she bore it as she crossed the room.

Quill eyed her, his expression unreadable. Speira came within a foot of where he sat before finding her own seat on the faded rug thrown between their beds.

Speira’s eyes glittered rebelliously up at Quill. He had once seen that same look in a mirror not twenty years ago.

“There,” she began, “Have any corpses ever picked themselves up from where they lay? Or moved across a room? Will you please tell me what's bothering you now, Papa?”

Though she hid it well, fear had robbed Speira of her next breath. Instead of thinking about the granny apple slowly rising up her throat, choking her, she funneled all of her focus into burrowing past the granite walls that were Quill’s eyes. The irony of it all was that Quill wasn't even angered in the slightest. In fact, he was proud.

This is good. A warrior without the gale to nip the talon that feeds it from time to time is a poor, complacent thing, nothing more than a tool meant to be used then discarded. But Speira? No, she's surprising me more and more each day.

He had better be careful, though, least Speira’s nips turn into toothy chomps. Quill gave her a small smile, then gestured for her to move closer.

“Alright, my dear, we’ll hold counsel, but afterwards it's right to bed, no questions asked. Understand?” She nodded.

Though Speira’s features continued to reveal nothing, her eyes remained an open window for Quill. Excitement glittered beneath those hazel curtains as she hopped up next to him. He lifted an arm so that she might situate herself beneath his chest, as she was apt to do. Though this was something customary mainly for Griffins and their hatchlings, the filly had taken to it from an early age.

Speira looked up at her mentor, her nose only a mere inch or so from Quill’s chin, waiting for him to say something. The Griffin only stared out across the room for the time being, lost in his thoughts and his daughter’s warmth. How thankful was he that Speira had decided to remove her wings before laying down. There were times when he wasn't so lucky.

Speira felt a slight tremor run along her body as Quill cleared his throat and began to speak.

“Tell me, my dear, did you notice anything peculiar about our meeting with the Prince? Perhaps about Shining Armor himself?”

Speira’s nose began to wrinkle. What was this? Wasn't he supposed to be answering her question? And now he’s testing her yet again? The filly quickly overcame her agitation.

Quill wanted to make sure she hadn't let her mind wonder while she was in that palace of wonders. He knew very well what was amiss, but he wanted to make sure his student knew it too.

“I noticed he was tired,” she said, then paused. “But that's not it, is it, Papa? Not entirely, anyways. Princes and Princesses are always tired. It was the bags under his eyes… as if he hadn't slept for nearly a week.”

“You're on the right track, my dear, but you're still not quite there yet.”

Speira’s brow furrowed in frustration as she buried her face into the bed sheets, trying with all her might to summon forth the face of the handsome prince to her mind's eye.

She did her best to remember him, and Speckled Band too. It was the Corporal that had kept capturing her attention. He seemed too fidgety in his chair for Speira’s liking, constantly readjusting himself every few minutes or so.

Then again, that could've been due to that heavy armor of his, she thought.

After a moment more of consideration, Speira lifted her face to Quill’s once more. He had been watching her, the depths of his brown eyes illuminated by the glow of the bedside lamp.

“You think Prince Shining Armor isn't telling us something, don't you?”

“Think?” Quill repeated back, a touch of humor in his voice. “No, I do not think he's hiding something from us. I know he is.”

“Should we be worried?”

“Nay. As deep as his adoration for me goes, I would think Shining Armor a fool if he were to trust us enough to tell everything. No, I'm guessing he had plenty of sense in keeping us ignorant.”

“What, then?” Speira asked, almost waspishly. “What am I to notice, Papa?”

Quill didn't like the hint of impatience underlying in the filly’s tone. It was to be expected -- Speira was still just a filly after all. However, it was a weed that would surely blossom into recklessness should Quill not tend to it in time.

This was such a time.

As Quill spoke, a hint of winter had crept into his usually warm voice. Those eyes seemed to glisten like ice sickles.

“I think a certain someone is tired. I think that someone has let her talons get sharper than her senses.”

Though Speira had no talons to account for, she understood him all the same. Shame burned at her cheeks. Quill regarded her a moment longer, noticing the slight shift of unease in her body- suddenly Quill’s seemed to weigh down upon her like a boulder.

“I think I’m ready for bed,” Speira said, her voice felt like a stone lodged in her throat. The curiosity that had burned within her only moments ago was snubbed out.

“Yes, I think you are,” Quill agreed, some of that winter in his voice making way for spring. “We will continue this conversation later. When you've had time to sleep and I've had time to think, we will continue this little conversation of ours.”

Speira wasted no time. She was out from under Quill and on her hooves in an instant. Without the weight of her armor, she felt as if she could've floated down as she jumped from the bed.

She had no more made it across the room when Quill’s voice halted her.

“Wait one second, my dear.” Speira glanced over her shoulder, one hoof raised to pull back her sheets. “There’s a question I’d like you to ponder as you lay your head down -sleep on it, not think on it, as my grandfather used to say.”

Speira had turned back around now. “Does this have to do what's really troubling you, Papa?”

Quill nodded. “Yes, it does. Now listen, and listen well, for this is all I will say for now. We’ve both seen what shadows lurk on those long, wintry roads leading north, and even south. We’ve fended off three stagecoaches this past month from bandits and the like. What’s more, those are only accounting for the robberies we’ve experienced.

“Those roads are dangerous, especially for noble folk. What's worse is that these rouges are starting to look a little less starved and a little less unequipped with each attack. Hell, a scholar unicorn was with them that last time!”

Quill glanced away for a second, trying to control the sudden rush thrumming in his heart. He wanted Speira to understand the coming question. No, he needed her to.

“Now,” he continuing, “Knowing this, what I'd ask you to ponder is this: why would Shining Armor choose to lead a caravan to Canterlot when it would not only be safer, but quicker for him to just travel by train? Especially if he really fears of an attempt on his life? He might say it’s due to the large party that must accompany him, but I don't see it being any trouble for a prince to rent a train car or two for safer passage… that is what I'd like you to think upon my dear. We still have a day or so before we leave, so just think upon it. Tell me when you may, but before we leave.”

Then, with a smile and a wink, Quill added, “Consider it one of our lessons.”

Speira stared at her mentor for a long time without answering. Quill was pleased to see that her thoughts were unreadable, her sharp features revealing nothing to him.

Finally she said, “Yes, Papa.”

Then, with a quick ‘good night’ she crawled back up into her bed. It would be sometime before Speira thoughts gave her reprieve from their troubled prattling. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss in this whole ordeal. She saw it in Quill’s face -maybe for no more than a second or two, but she saw it nonetheless.

Finally, probably an hour or so after Quill flicked the lamp on his night stand off, Speira managed sleep. It was thin and dreamless, but it was sleep.

****

Many ponies throughout the ages- a good deal of them Scholars from the school of magic- had commented on Celestia’s choice to house her study in the highest spire of Canterlot’s castle. One such pony, head mage Fairfax, had said that it was so that the princess may look down upon her subjects in the city far below.

One had to remember, however, that the School had existed as long as Equestria’s ancient rulers -a certain few even arguing that the School was founded before the princesses. Through the centuries, a kind of rivalry had developed between the houses. Though there was never any real animosity between the two, it certainly left the door open for small pricks of gossip.

“Our ivory princess,” mage Fairfax had said to his young assistant upon a return trip from Canterlot. His face had contorted into an ugly frown as he spoke, as if he had been sucking on a cube of salt.

“She sits up there on that pedestal, wearing clouds like a pearl necklace as she sneers down at us all. Bah!”

The mage’s assistant smiled consolingly and nodded, understanding that the princess had denied Fairfax’s request for aid to remodel the School’s library. The irony in all of Fairfax’s tantrum is that fifty years after his passing, Princess Celestia would be as healthy as she's always been.

Whatever Fairfax might've said about Celestia and her study, though, he was wrong. As Celestia sat in her favorite chair -a simple, hoof-carved thing commissioned from a carpenter still residing in Canterlot- and gazed out of the immense window of her study, she did smile. It wasn't the cold sneer of a monarch proud of her cunning and heritage. No, it was something warmer, something kinder. One might mistake her for a mother watching her children wrestle in the back yard instead of Equestria’s eldest daughter.

Despite whatever the Scholars might have to say about her, Celestia loved her people. In that moment, with all of Canterlot lounging at her feet and the Equestrian countryside rolling away from her like a viridian ocean, that love swelled up in her heart ‘till she feared it just might burst. The only other thing that matched Celestia’s fierce love for her country was her vast weariness.

Though most of her troubles were fresh and new, decades weighed upon Celestia’s bones and centuries upon her mind. However, despite this, Celestia was determined to persevere, just as she always had. Where a mountain might be flattened by the weight of the world, Celestia found strength.

Besides, she thought, that smile growing a touch morose, I can't afford to show such weakness, not this close to the Landsmeet. Times are tough, and our people need to be reminded that their rulers have kept Equestria strong this long for a reason.

At that thought, her mind drifted to her sister. Her dear, dear sister. How quickly she had taken to the rising tide of problems these passing months. Locked away in her own study, working through the night and even into the late reaches of the morning. Rarely did they talk.

Celestia sighed and went on thinking her troubling thoughts for quite some time. Her diligence had bought her time enough to brood. Unfortunately for her, the window she gazed out did not face the south, so the flight of the balloon from Ponyville went completely went unbeknownst to her. Sure, she saw plenty of Pegasi, their royal armor shimmering in the sunlight, but not the balloon. Thus, the knock on her door and the arrival of Chasset came as a dear surprise to her.

The head maid poked her head in through a now cracked door, a few threads of her usually tame mane standing out on end. Chasset was flushed and her voice sounded winded.

“I’m quite sorry, Princess, I hope I didn't interrupt.”

Celestia had turned at the sound of the opening door. That benevolent smile that had graced Canterlot like a setting sun now fell upon Chasset. The mare’s winter heart always melting under that smile’s warm rays.

“All is fine, Chasset,” Celestia said reassuringly.

Chasset breathed a sigh of relief, but quickly found that sigh caught in her throat as Celestia spoke again.

“Now, tell me, what's got you so vexed today, my dear?”

“Urgghh…” Chasset glanced over her shoulder, then looked back to Celestia’s. Her eyes seemed to roll madly in her sockets. “It seems that… Princess Twilight has arrived earlier than expected.”

It was now Celestia’s turn to be stunned.

“Is that so?” Celestia was struck dumb, her eyes had grown to dinner plates. Well this is rather unexpected.

It only a moment later before that cool composure slipped back over her like a warm glove. The smile, which had dropped momentarily, returned. ‘All was still well’ that expression said. ‘All is always well.’

“Really now? Why, what a wonderful surprise!” Chasset felt at ease to hear her princess’s earnest jubilation. What cool summer rain that voice of hers is, Chasset thought.

“I take it she is with you then?”

Shaken from her thoughts, Chasset nodded vigorously. A few more strands of mane sprung up like frayed wire.

Celestia beamed. “Good! Then by all means, send her in.”

There was another nod from Chasset before her head disappeared. Celestia had only a second or two to gather herself. She couldn't let her beloved pupil read the fatigue and stress written on her face.

Reading is definitely something she excels at. There was no small amusement with this thought.

The door, which had only been opened partway, was flung open. Instead of the sour face of Chasset, it was the booksmart mare that Celestia had come to love almost like a daughter. They both seemed to glow in one another’s presence.

“Why, hello there, Twilight Sparkle. You're quite the early bird, just as usual.”

Author's Note:

Hope this chapter does you fine. My apologies if it reads kind of strange at times, this was written back when I had just started back at writing -- I was more than likely high as hell at the time.

Comments

[TheFictionAddiction]

Gonna try and answer both of these question. Hopefully the answer won't put anyone off too much.

8387199
Okay, this is something that's been on my mind ever since I first started typing away chapters to this story. First off, as of now, I am writing the story as it comes to me. My greatest desire is to tell the story to myself first. The Wayfarers is a culmination of inspirations from epics such as The Stand, Dairies of a Madman, and Fallout Equestria. That said, I've found the story starting to shift gears the longer I work on it everyday. I think you might be surprised at the changes coming along soon, if you're still willing to give this hunk of story a try. I don't blame you if you get impatient with it, for I did too back before I went on my hiatus. I think my eagerness to write and to share will pick the story up along though.

That said...

8387775

I'm sorry, but the only promises I'm making are to myself. That said, I'll let my work ethic answer your question in time.

[TheFictionAddiction]

8384585
Warms my heart greatly to see your still here.

[kalash93]

https://www.fimfiction.net/group/211585/reviewers-cafe/thread/308771/reviews?page=7#comment/6238541