Chapter 1:8 - Blizzard
Chapter 1:8 – Blizzard
In the fields outside of Ponieville, a rent opened in the air, startling some nearby crows into flight. A cold gust of air flowed from the tear in space, flattening crops that were flash frozen a few seconds later as a herd of windigos charged through the rent, neighing in their brittle, icy voices. After emerging, the windigos fanned out, spreading cold in a wave as they galloped across the countryside, hovering just above the ground. A few flakes of snow blew from the rent, some evaporating in the still-cooling air, but some managing to land.
The frozen crops were crunched under heavy hooves as a new being emerged from the rent. The centaur surveyed his surroundings attentively, keeping an eye out for any living creature that could impede his mission. Heavy armor covered his body, from his fetlocks to the top of his head, which slowed his movement significantly, but would make him practically invulnerable to anything the residents of Equestria could throw at him. With nothing threatening in sight, he lowered the sword in his right hand and raised the metal staff in his left.
The gap widened and the frigid wind grew stronger, sending flurries of snowflakes flying through the air. Three more burly centaurs strode through the rift with weapons drawn, looking around cautiously just like their predecessor. The clouds in the sky began to darken and swirl as the lead centaur chanted and waved his staff around, beginning to release their own snowflakes. Accompanied by another swarm of windigos, a fifth centaur emerged from the rift, his greatsword sheathed at his side.
“Vittaï attö katteï! Vittaï Pönïvil aleffeï!” he shouted as he pointed with a gauntleted finger, and the other centaurs rushed forward, followed by others charging through the rift.
The White Procession had arrived.
***
Rarity trotted through Ponieville’s streets, completely oblivious to the dark clouds forming overhead. Her saddlebags were filled with precious fabrics she had just retrieved from a merchant’s office in Ponieville’s marketplace. This is my chance! Every so often, Mayor Mare would grow annoyed with the exorbitant cost of having clothes shipped to her from Cant’r Laht, and would charge a local tailor with making her an outfit for a much lower price. So far, each time she had been disappointed with the vast difference in quality and had gone back to her normal tailor in the mountainside city.
Rarity intended to break the cycle. For the first time, Mayor Mare had come to her with the proposal of making her a gown (well, not in person, but her bailiff had), and she didn’t intend to disappoint Ponieville’s governor. She had spared no expense; no local materials would be up to the Mayor’s standards, so she had had fabric imported all the way from Los Pegasus. The textiles had cost Rarity an outrageous amount, and the price to ship them had been even higher. She wouldn’t make much of a profit on this dress, but if the mayor liked it, then she could look forward to more orders and more income in the future, perhaps even enough that she could stop blacksmithing and work as a clothier alone.
Rarity shivered as the air cooled, wishing she’d worn a heavier dress to see the merchant, though it had almost been too hot to wear anything when she’d left her shop. That didn’t occur to Rarity at the moment, with her mind on how she would transform the fabrics in her saddlebags into a gorgeous gown for the mayor to wear to balls hosted by the nobility. The mare paused as a snowflake landed on her muzzle. Cold was one thing, but snow was the last thing she expected to see in the heat of the summer. Snow never fell this early in the year, unless …
The icy whinnies of a herd of windigos as they flew overhead startled Rarity. Snow began to fall more quickly, and blasts of it tore through Ponieville’s winding streets, coating everything in frost. Ponies out in the streets began to run for home, locking their doors behind them, and Rarity followed suit, galloping through the rapidly accumulating drifts toward her home. Warning bells began to ring out from Ponieville’s chapel, followed by bells from the Mayoral Keep a few minutes later. Almost there. Rarity’s smithy was in sight; all she had to do was get to the shop, clear the snow from in front of the door, and duck inside.
While she was still a ways off, a herd of windigos galloped past her smithy, and she pulled up short. An armored centaur followed the windigos, a mace at the end of an exceptionally long staff in his right hand. The centaur was slightly taller than the average pony at the withers, but the torso sprouting from where his neck and head should have been made him much taller than a pony. Steam emerged from the slits in his helmet’s visor as he turned to look Rarity’s way.
The blacksmith hesitated for a moment, snow settling on her back, before turning and galloping back the way she’d come. Terrified, she pushed herself to run even faster as the noise of pursuing hooves came from behind. Without warning, the mare swerved left and ducked through a narrow alleyway. Craning her neck back, she saw the centaur’s mace strike the side of one of the buildings lining the alley, the impact tearing away wood and wattle.
Rarity feared that the centaur would follow her into the alley, and he attempted to, but his armored shoulders proved too wide, and he retreated back into the street. Rarity made her way to the other end of the alley, taking advantage of the brief relief. She could try to make her way back to her smithy, but that was probably what the centaur was expecting, and she wasn’t certain she could outrun him again.
On the street she’d emerged onto, there was a pony who’d given up on making it home and was banging desperately on a stranger’s door, begging to be let in out of the cold that would soon become as deadly as a centaur’s weapon. Rarity had to give up on making it home as well. Maybe she could make it to the Mayoral Keep or the chapel. A centaur wielding a longsword galloped down the street, and Rarity took off while he was distracted, disemboweling the pony left out in the cold.
***
Applejack was trying desperately to make it to Ponieville’s east gate when the warning bells began to sound. It wasn’t easy, especially dragging a cart filled with apples behind her. She had been bringing them in to sell in Ponieville’s market, but the sudden chill in the air alerted her that normalcy was about to be shattered. The White Procession was here, and she needed to get back to the farm as soon as she could, even if it meant possibly losing money the Apples desperately needed. Better that they live and struggle on as always.
Most ponies rushing around her and bumping into her wagon lived in Ponieville, but a few, like her, lived outside the town’s gates and were headed in the same direction. They, also like her, were outraged when they reached the east gate and found it closed. Keeping them from simply forcing it open was a nervous-looking guard barely older than a colt brandishing his halberd.
“Turn back!” he ordered, his voice squeaking, “This gate has t’ stay closed! Go t’ th’ Mayoral Keep or th’ chapel!”
Before any of the assembled ponies could perpetrate the violence against him that they threatened, the guard dropped to the ground with a crossbow bolt embedded in his neck. Anger turned to panic as the mob of ponies spotted the killer. An armored pegasus with bat wings hovered overhead, fitting another bolt into her crossbow. More of the bat-ponies flew over the wall, and crossbow bolts began to rain down on a crowd struggling desperately to disperse. Applejack turned herself around, the panicked ponies nearby nearly causing her cart to tip over, and galloped off in the only direction it seemed safe to move.
“Hætten fettö æse!” one of the bat-ponies yelled to a battleaxe-wielding centaur that had appeared among the crowd, “Hü sæ algöttinï aleffö!”
The centaur cut a swath through the ponies that still hadn’t managed to flee, and charged after Applejack. Not stopping, the farmer tried to detach the cart with her teeth. The centaur was almost upon her when the straps finally came free. Applejack veered toward the centaur before releasing the cart entirely, causing it to crash into him and knock him off balance. Free of the dead weight, she galloped away as fast as her legs could carry her. Sneaking a look back, she saw that the centaur was no longer in pursuit.
She wasn’t in the clear yet, though. As she slowed her pace, a crossbow bolt embedded itself in the ground in front of her, right where she’d have been if she’d continued galloping. A bat-pony was perched on a nearby rooftop, preparing another bolt. Applejack took off in another direction, resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t make it back to the farm in time. Big McIntosh, Granny Smith, and Apple Bloom would be fine on their own. This wasn’t the first White Procession attack they’d weathered. Her attention now was turned inward; Applejack needed to make it to a safe place, either the Mayoral Keep or the Ponieville Chapel, and she had to avoid the White Procession on the way.
***
Twilight Sparkle had felt a tingle in her horn when the rent had initially opened, so she wasn’t taken completely off guard when the bells began ringing to notify Ponieville of an emergency. The bells were what spurred her to take action, however, since it meant that the White Procession was not only here in Equestria, but here in Ponieville. Leaving her books behind, Twilight cantered up the stairs of Golden Oak’s laboratory.
“Spike, get me Hearthfire Incantations, Volume III,” Twilight ordered without pausing, but there was no response.
Of course; he’s not here. In her sudden haste, Twilight had forgotten that she had sent Spike on an errand earlier. He was probably still in the Mayoral Keep, speaking to Mayor Mare or one of her subordinates on Twilight’s behalf. At least he has the sense to stay there and not try to venture back here during an attack by the White Procession.
Twilight retrieved the book herself, using her magic to levitate the tome and flip it to the page she wanted. Golden Oak had grown his laboratory with a balcony nestled in the leaves, and the sorceress stepped out onto it to get a better view of what was happening. Dark clouds blanketed the sky, lightning emanating from within as they churned slowly around a point to the west of town, presumably where the White Procession had entered this world. Waves of snow blew through Ponieville’s streets, coating everything in a fine layer of ice and laying down drifts as they went. Screams emanated from down below as the Procession’s members sought out and killed everypony out of doors.
“Fausse prinessen, fetorsa feequus’r mrinessen!” Twilight shouted as she visualized summer, her voice carrying across the rooftops, “Fausse prinessen, fetorsa feequus’r mrinessen!”
At first nothing happened, except for the wind slowing slightly and the clouds lightening a negligible shade. Twilight continued the incantation, repeating the same five words faster and louder, channeling her energy into the spell. The snow blowing across the town settled to the ground and holes were punched through the cloud cover, letting sunlight beam down onto the artificial winter landscape.
***
In the fields outside of Ponieville, the centaur wizard watched the edges of his spell begin to fray and unravel. A cabal of wizards in Ponieville? Is my information that outdated? No, not a cabal of wizards, just a single wizard by the feel of things, though a powerful one at that.
“¿Væris epesanæ?” the centaur with a greatsword behind him demanded.
“Ætö sïnettöl Pönïvil æse nuttiffï,” the wizard responded, explaining that there was another working magic in the town, before gesturing for another centaur with a staff to come forward.
The wizards stood next to each other, the globes at the ends of their staffs nearly touching, and began incanting together. A miniature blizzard flurried around their staffs for a moment, and then the cold wind picked up again. The holes in the clouds filled back in, and they began to roil darker and more violently than before. The spell was restored to an even stronger state, blanketing Ponieville and the surrounding countryside in winter.
Nice try, but you’ll have to do better than that to overcome me. That, or find some other wizards to help you. The other wizard may not have been strong enough to defeat him, but they had still shown remarkable power for a single individual. With his free hand, the centaur pulled a map of the area from his saddlebags and tucked it into a groove in his chest plate as a reminder. I’ll see you later.
***
Atop Golden Oak’s laboratory Twilight Sparkle staggered backwards as her spell was utterly rebuffed. Of course, she should have expected this outcome. She’d forgotten that the incantation she was using was designed to multiply in power the more ponies were casting it. This made it powerful to fight off the White Procession in Cant’r Laht, where hundreds of sorcerers and sorceresses would be reciting the incantation simultaneously, but she was the only sorceress in Ponieville, so the spell was only as powerful as the energy she could pour into it.
The snow was coming down more swiftly now, and the square in front of the laboratory was covered in white powder nearly too deep to move through. One pony was trying to cross despite the snow, looking over her shoulder every few seconds to avoid the crossbow shots from a pair of bat-ponies pursuing her over the building. After a moment, Twilight realized that the mare down below was Applejack.
“Caen’r majia acca Ye’r accael!” Twilight yelled, and an unexpected downdraft caught the bat-ponies’ wings, sending them flying backwards and knocking their crossbow shots off course.
Applejack continued forcing her way through the snow, unaware of what had just taken place behind her. Movement at the other end of the square caught Twilight’s attention, and she turned to see Rarity trying to plow through the snow, faring worse than Applejack. A centaur wielding a long-handled mace emerged from the buildings behind her, aiming his weapon at her head.
“Eren’r majia acca Ye’r accael!” Twilight Sparkle shouted frantically, and the slightly frozen dirt beneath the centaur’s hooves rose up and threw him back.
Twilight tried yelling out to Applejack and Rarity, but the howling wind stole her words as the storm raged stronger. Spotting no more immediate threats, and no more of her friends, Twilight rushed inside, locked the balcony doors, and dropped Hearthfire Incantations on a table before galloping downstairs.
***
Rarity looked back, sure that the centaur chasing her was on top of her by now, but all she saw was a mound of earth covered in snow. Behind that mound, the centaur was lying on the ground, moving ponderously back to his hooves. She didn’t care how she was still alive; right now, her focus was on staying that way.
“Applejack! Rarity!” Twilight Sparkle’s magically augmented voice called from nearby, and Rarity spotted the sorceress standing in the open doorway of Golden Oak’s laboratory, beckoning to come to her.
Rarity changed course immediately, grateful to find a place of shelter (and a bit disappointed in herself that she hadn’t thought to seek out Twilight in the first place). Her trajectory suddenly changed as she struck a protrusion in the snow, the shaft of a wagon abandoned in the rush to find shelter. The mare flipped and rolled twice through the snow before landing on her back.
Strong forelegs lifted her up from the snow and deposited her back on her hooves. Rarity didn’t feel the weight of her saddlebags on her back anymore, and looked around frantically before spotting them hanging from the wagon, quickly becoming covered in show. The centaur was back on his hooves and charging through the snow from the same direction, but Rarity went for her saddlebags anyway; within was her ticket to a better life.
“Leave it!” Applejack said as she grabbed her and pulled her away.
Rarity struggled at first, but as the charging centaur grew closer, she stopped resisting and galloped alongside the farmer. Her saddlebags sank deeper into the snow as the centaur crushed the wagon underhoof, stumbling slightly before steadying himself. In a few seconds, he was on top of them again. Then, the blowing snow and freezing wind ceased as the two ponies stumbled into Golden Oak’s laboratory.
Twilight slammed the door shut behind them, locking it before beginning to trace runes over it. The centaur’s mace slammed against the wood, bowing the door, and Twilight drew faster. The banging continued for a few minutes, becoming muffled as the sorceress’s magical seal took effect, before the centaur finally walked away. Twilight Sparkle rushed around the laboratory, putting more magical protection in place. When she’d first started living here, she’d found that Golden Oak had already carved runes for protection from the White Procession into the tree everywhere, but it never hurt to be overprepared.
“Thank Faust for your hospitality, Twilight,” Rarity said as the adrenaline began to wear off, “I must admit, I didn’t know where I could go or if I’d reach anywhere before being slaughtered in the street.”
“Thank you, Twi’” Applejack offered her own appreciation, “If ‘t’wasn’t for you, I would’ve been trapped out there in th’ storm too. Making it back t’ th’ Apple farm in this is impossible.”
“Hmph, must you really act so uncultured?” Rarity spoke sideways at Applejack as the farmer shook and brushed off the snow caked on her and a clump hit Rarity in the face.
“I’m tryin’ t’ dry off so I don’t catch cold,” Applejack replied, keeping her voice low like Rarity’s and out of Twilight’s range of hearing, “You should do th’ same.”
Rarity harrumphed and stepped away from Applejack to keep from being hit by any more snow, but did begin to clean herself off as well, albeit a bit less vigorously. Honestly, I could put up with this kind of behavior when we were traveling together, but must she act like an unrefined peasant in the heart of Ponieville? Of course, Applejack is an unrefined peasant. It’s easy to forget that when we’re out being the “Brave Companions,” but not so easy to ignore now. Well, I suppose I shall just have to try to bear the discomfort for the time being.
“Here you are,” Twilight Sparkle said, returning with some blankets for the two ponies to dry off with, “I have dry clothes in my bedchamber if you would like to change.”
Twilight stopped and blinked a few times after the words had come unbidden to her lips. Did I really just offer to let somepony else (and non-sorceresses at that) wear my clothes? If my peers in Cant’r Laht heard this, they would be mortified! Maybe that’s a good thing, though. Maybe.
“Thank you ever so much, Twilight,” Rarity said as she brushed past Applejack on her way up to Twilight’s bedchamber, “You don’t mind if I go first, do you darling?”
“O’ course not,” Applejack said gruffly as she shivered, then began to rub herself more forcefully with the blanket Twilight had given her.
Who does she think she is? She’s no better than anypony else just because she lives within the walls of a town. And this town wouldn’t even exist without my family! We were here when the landscape was still crawling with monsters, and all any Hunter would do when we offered to pay for their services was laugh. That is, when they even showed up out in the wilderness. Rarity lives in a cottage, within the wall surrounding Ponieville. The Apples live in a home surrounded by a wall too, but it’s the wrong wall as far as any townsponies are concerned. It’s outrageous! Still, we’re supposed to be friends and comrades, so I guess I’ll just have to overlook Rarity’s belittling attitude toward me and my kin for the time being. I don’t know how long I’ll last, cooped up together in the laboratory, unable to leave …
Rarity emerged from Twilight’s bedchambers, wearing a set of the sorceress’s old robes from when she’d first visited Ponieville without the shoes, cloak, or the banner embroidered in runes draped over her neck. Well, she’s no sorceress, but they’ll keep her warm, at least, Twilight thought. Applejack ascended the stairs to Twilight’s bedchamber as Rarity descended, and shut herself in to finish drying off and change, leaving the two unicorns alone in the large central room of the laboratory.
“Say, I haven’t seen Spike around. Where is he, Twilight?” Rarity asked as the sorceress finished lighting a fire in one of the peculiar hearths grown into the laboratory tree’s structure.
“I sent him to the Mayoral Keep to speak with Mayor Mare before the White Procession arrived,” Twilight answered as she dragged some cushions from a sconce in the bookcases for her and Rarity to sit on.
“About having this space declared private again now that you’re living here?” Rarity asked as she gestured around, moving a bit awkwardly in unfamiliar clothes tailored for a pony with a smaller frame.
“Among other things,” Twilight said with a nod, but didn’t say any more. Queen Helianthus is making noise in the west about White Tail Wood again, meaning Ponieville will need to be prepared to supply troops if Los Pegasus actually attempts an annexation by force. It will probably turn out to be nothing, though, so there’s no point in worrying Rarity over it.
Applejack emerged from Twilight’s bedchamber, dressed in a simplistic black robe the sorceress rarely wore, especially after the incident with Trixie. The Black Sorceress had left in disgrace, but the scars of her botched fight with the ursa minor were still visible (or would be if they weren’t currently covered in snow), and Twilight didn’t want to remind ponies of that. Applejack didn’t wear the robes as well as Rarity wore hers, but seemed more at ease in them, having come from a life where one wore whatever one could get. Twilight sensed that Rarity had the same ability within her, but something had changed.
“These robes are mighty comf’table, Twi’” Applejack said as she sat down on the third cushion, “I can’t say I’ve ever worn somethin’ so soft before.”
“Oh,” Twilight said softly, feeling a bit embarrassed that her act of generosity had served to point out the vast gap between their social classes, “I will—uh—make us some tea.”
“Not that I’m in love with it,” Applejack apologized, thinking she’d offended the sorceress somehow, “It wouldn’t be very practical on th’ farm anyway, gettin’ covered in mud ‘n’ tangling up m’hooves.”
“Right, well, I am going to brew us some tea anyway to stave off the chill,” Twilight said as she trotted away to the laboratory’s kitchen.
“It wouldn’t be very practical on the farm?” Rarity asked incredulously once Twilight was gone, “Do you have any idea what a robe like that would cost to have tailored in Cant’r Laht?”
“No, but I have a bad feeling that you’re about t’ tell me,” Applejack said, glowering at Rarity as she sank into her cushion.
“More coin that you make in a year, more than you’ve seen in your life!” Rarity said, desperately struggling to reign in her annoyance, and succeeding only in making herself sound calm, though the bitterness was still there, “But, you rejected it because it’s not ‘practical.’”
“Yes, because I can’t afford t’ waste anything,” the farmer responded, her eyes daggers, “I lost a whole cart o’ apples t’ th’ White Procession, an’ even more o’ th’ crops’ll die in this frost. My family is struggling as it is, without this unholy winter coming t’ get rid o’ our hard work. Yet, this is how things always are—we have t’ plan for th’ White Procession—so I don’t panic. I don’t risk my life going back for saddlebags full o’ fancy cloth.”
Rarity sputtered at that, taken aback by the poor farmer’s boldness in condemning her for protecting her lifestyle. How could she understand what it meant to be held back from her dreams, never able to achieve what she truly wanted? All of Applejack’s identity was wrapped up in farming, and all peasants had to do was keep plants from dying to ensure they’d get paid for their efforts. Ponies would always need food, and it wasn’t really that hard to grow it. Didn’t the fact that peasants always filled in the gaps of farmland when others left prove that? She doesn’t have to deal with guilds and merchants and the whims of her customers, and the maze of regulations put in place by nobility all the way up the line to Celestia.
“F-f-fancy cloth!” Rarity eventually managed to stammer out, “Those fabrics were the finest produced in the textile mills of Los Pegasus and transported here at great personal expense!”
“I still think it’s a waste,” Applejack said, not letting Rarity finish her tirade and explain how they were meant for a gown for Mayor Mare that could secure bigger and better things for herself, “You’re a blacksmith an’ a tailor in a poor hamlet. You can get plenty o’ business without wasting your money making dresses nopony but a hooffull in this muddy village can afford.”
Twilight chose that moment to enter the room with a steaming teapot and three cups. She could have levitated all of the items with a simple spell, but it was easier and safer to levitate a tray beneath them instead. The tea vessels were not the only items on the tray; Twilight had also taken the liberty of adding three tumblers and a mostly-full bottle of wine to drink once they had finished their tea and the hour grew later. Considering Applejack’s comment about her robes, Twilight had tried to find something local or non-ostentatious, but she had no such liquors in her collection, so she had settled on a wine imported from Neighples across the Shimmering Sea.
“Is something the matter?” Twilight asked as she set the tray down, sensing the tension between her friends.
“Not at all,” Rarity said as she reached for the teapot, her voice tightly controlled and a false smile on her muzzle, “Thank you ever so much for the tea, and thank you again for inviting us into your home. I’m sure we’re not your usual kind of guests,” she added, giving Applejack a pointed look.
“Actually, I do not believe that I have had guests here since moving to Ponieville. Well, no guests who were invited by me,” Twilight said, thinking back to the party thrown by Pinkamena here on the night before the summer solstice, “Spike and I usually see to ourselves, me studying and experimenting and him—you know, I am not entirely sure what Spike does with his free time. In any case, the point I was trying to make was that I do not really have anything for entertaining, or to pass the time as a group.
If only I hadn’t left my chessboard and skirmishboard in Cant’r Laht, though I suppose neither of you are overly familiar with the rules of either. I thought it best they stay in Cant’r Laht, where they will be safe from any misfortune. They were both gifts from Twinkleshine—a sorceress I was familiar with in Cant’r Laht—and I know she would be mortified if anything happened to them. The craftsmareship is exquisite; the wood cut and smoothed to perfection and fitted together with a flawlessness that can only be achieved with sorcery, and the pieces are no less stunning, the eyes fitted with gems that sparkle just so to give them the semblance of life. Oh, but I am going on and on, aren’t I? Forgive me.”
Twilight scratched the back of her head with a hoof sheepishly and concentrated on pouring herself a cup of tea. Even after moving to Ponieville, you spend too much time by yourself, Twilight. These ponies are your friends, bound to you by the Elements of Harmony, and yet you know little about them personally. So, when you finally have some time with them, why do you speak only of yourself? Ask them about themselves. Involve yourself in their discussion. Go on.
“So, what were you two talking about before I got here?” Twilight asked, heeding the advice of the little pony in her head.
“Nothing important,” Rarity replied, taking a sip of tea, “Well, we can’t go outside, so I suggest we find some way to pass the time. Perhaps you could tell us about your life in Cant’r Laht.”
“You want to hear about that?” Twilight asked, and Rarity and Applejack both nodded their assent, “Well, I suppose, if you also tell me about your lives here in Ponieville before I met you.”
***
Year 978 of the 4th Age
The hooded stallion tried his hardest not to look suspicious as he trotted out of Manehattan’s gates, which of course (along with his hood on a cloudless day) only made him look more suspicious. Fortunately for him, the guards posted at the city’s gate were more interested in watching the nearby washermares at work than in searching one pony among the dozens moving through the gap in the rust-red walls surrounding Manehattan. He ignored the beggars squatting on the side of the road beseeching passersby to spare some alms, and they ignored him right back, knowing at a glance that he was a pony with not much to give.
Paranoid, the stallion repeatedly checked to make sure his saddlebag was tightly fastened to him and secured closed, using the opportunity to look back and see if anypony was following him. Seeming to be in the clear, he snuck one last look back at the city he’d never see again. The gate he’d passed through had been in a wall protecting the bridge to the true city, whose walls were just as red, but soared much higher. A few buildings were still visible from beyond the walls, such as the steeples of St. Cassius’s Basilica and the Kings’ Redoubt in the distance, where King Wexel held court when he could be bothered to go to the trouble. The scaffolding surrounding the Temple of the Divine Cleansing Flame’s construction could also be seen, but that structure gave the stallion a shudder, and he hurried on down the path.
Most of Manehattan’s trade came to the city by ship, so the road was not overcrowded by carts and wagons, and the stallion was able to move at a pace that fit his anxiety. Eventually he reached the tiny village of dilapidated cottages pressed up against the shore of the Shimmering Sea. Before he reached the first houses, he removed the hood from his head; wearing the covering would make his neighbors ask questions, and there was no need to hide the horn on his forehead, since most of them had the same protrusion on their own skulls. There was nopony in sight as he made his way to a cottage near the edge of the cluster and let himself in.
“Oi, Magnus, I was afeared the guards or street prophets had got you or somethin’!” the stallion’s wife said with relief as he entered, “What kept you so long?”
“A wall o’ that accursed temple collapsed last night, and the street prophets were right quick t’ point their devoted flocks in the directions of the nearest unicorns. Three died already, killed in the streets or their homes afore the king’s guards could step in,” Magnus explained his delay as he rushed over to his wife and embraced her, saving her the trouble of coming to him in her current state, heavy with foal, “I had to avoid the crowds, and when I finally made it to the falsifier, she wanted more than we agreed on, ‘considerin’ the current situation.’”
“That cheating hag,” the mare said with fire in her eyes, “How much have we got left?”
“Enough,” Magnus lied.
The night before, he had gone out the back corner of the little field behind their home and dug up the last bit of coin the two ponies had squirreled away in case of emergencies. After paying the counterfeiter, they now had only thirteen silver loeps, and a smattering of double quatres, not nearly enough to start their lives over. Still, what was the alternative?
“I hope those papers are worth it,” the mare said with concern, seeing that her husband was not being truthful, but deciding not to call him out on it directly.
“Oh, my ‘Rietta, they will be,” he assured her as he released her and unfastened his saddlebags to retrieve the documents in question, “These will allow us to travel freely, without being questioned, and cross the border out o’ this kingdom without being hunted through the woods. So long as we keep out o’ the way and don’t run into any o’ the prince’s knights, we’ll be safe.”
“Is this all really necessary?” Henrietta asked fearfully. It seemed so drastic to leave the place of one’s birth and one’s homeland at a moment’s notice to travel to a place one knew little about.
“Yes, my dear. Though the king’s officials deny the stories, the rumors have still reached us that Prince Hadish just torched a unicorn village on the mainland to the ground for hiding a witch that didn’t exist. And now the prince is returning home; why else do you think Greta—little magical ability that she has—disappeared? Hadish could come looking for her, and when we tell him we don’t know where she is, he’ll burn us as well.
And who would protect us? King Wexel has ordered his guard t’ stop violence against th’ non-earths—t’ keep him from having t’ deal with riots, probably—but they don’t leave the city, and the city guard has no love for us. Once Prince Hadish arrives with his own guard, they’ll be outnumbered more than they already are. We can’t count on Cardinal Oelifus protecting us either; the Church has gone quiet since those priestesses were found burned alive down by th’ docks.”
“Faust will protect us,” Henrietta said anxiously as she clutched at the crude pendant of a seven-pointed star around her neck.
“Yes, she will, but she will protect us on the road,” Magnus said as he pulled his wife close, “There have been signs for so long that we need t’ move on, and we need t’ heed them. Manehattan is no longer our home; we’ll head west, past Hollow Shades and cross over into th’ Hill Kingdoms, and from there t’ th’ Equestry Valley and Ponieville.”
“Ponieville,” Henrietta said wistfully.
“Yes, it’s a small village, out o’ the way, and under Celestia’s direct protection,” Magnus said, “We’ll be safe there from Hadish’s pogroms.”
“And what will you do in Ponieville, my dear?” Henrietta asked, “We were both born t’ tend fields, but your skills are better suited for fixing th’ fishers’ nets. There’s no fishers in the middle of Equestria.”
“We’ll find a way. Faust will provide,” Magnus said, desperately praying that he was right, “But now, my ‘Rietta, we must go. Grab only what we’ll need for th’ trip, and leave the rest behind.”
***
Trotstagor had once been a grand city, and in many ways, it still was. During the height of the Hill Kingdoms, it had been the city where the nation’s multiple kings would meet to decide matters of national importance, but those times were long gone. The Hill Kingdoms had shrunk significantly over the years, until only twelve kings remained, ruling over tiny patches of land. Pressed in on all sides by their neighbors, a few years earlier the Hill Kings had yielded and sworn fealty to Celestia, losing their sovereignty, but gaining Cant’r Laht’s protection from Stalliongrad and Manehattan.
The city of Trotstagor was now much reduced, and a large portion of the city within the walls had been demolished and converted back into farmland. Soldiers still inhabited the outposts along the walls, however, since the city was now the most important point on the border between the Dominions of Cant’r Laht and the Kingdom of Manehattan. At the moment, the city was flooded with unicorn refugees fleeing the nation to the east in hope of a better life under Celestia.
Magnus and Henrietta had travelled a long way to reach Trotstagor, and many had traveled from even farther away, yet it seemed that, like so many others around them, their journey would end here. One of the papers in Magnus’s possession guaranteed them passage across the border, but not without an entry fee. After paying for food and shelter along the way, the peasant couple had precious little money left. Four silver loeps and eighteen double quatres were all that remained on the string Magnus kept tightly secured beneath his clothing, which, according to the Bank of Trotstagor (whose wizards set exchange rates all across Equestria), was worth only three and a sixteenth Trotstagor duursmarks, or three Cant’r Laht shillings and two pence. The entry fee was three and a half shillings, but the couple had no means of acquiring the extra four pence they needed.
The refugee camp in Trotstagor was set up in a dilapidated plaza on the edge of the fields, an area that was no longer inhabited by permanent residents, but hadn’t yet been demolished to make room for more farmland. Those who had tents had set them up as shelter, forming a maze of canvas. Ponies who hadn’t brought shelter with them had to seek it in the form of abandoned homes and shops, but most of those were occupied by the time Magnus and Henrietta arrived. Henrietta was currently seated by herself at the base of a statue of a rearing pegasus who’d lost one wing and half its face, where she had a good view of her husband as he returned from the bank. At his side was a filly, perhaps eleven or twelve years of age, dressed in a rough leather jerkin and trousers, a sack filled with her worldly possessions—like the ones currently serving as the pregnant mare’s seat—slung across her back.
“As I thought, we’re short on coin t’ pay the entry fee, but I think I’ve worked out a solution,” Magnus announced as he neared his wife, “I ran into Viekas here at the bank. She’s a cooper’s apprentice.”
“Was a cooper’s apprentice, tho’ I know just about ev’ythin’ already,” Viekas cut in with her reedy voice, “Mah master turned me out; said losin’ the help would hurt his bizniss less than keepin’ a unicorn on. I c’n do it all, but nopony’s gonna hire on a cooper at mah age, an’ nopony’s gonna take on an apprentice who’ll leave soon anywho.”
“Viekas has two shillings and five pence, and if we pool our money we can all cross over,” Magnus took back over the conversation from the filly whose speech was even more broken than his peasant accent, “We’ll only have four pence left, but Viekas is sure we can make enough money barrel-makin’ in Ponieville.”
“You said nopony would take you on or hire you,” Henrietta said, puzzled.
“I’ll apprentice wif him,” Viekas answered, shaking her head toward Magnus.
“She already knows cooping head t’ tail, so I’ll claim t’ be a master cooper and take her on as an apprentice,” Magnus explained, “Really, it’ll be the other way around, but it doesn’t matter. So long as we can stretch those last few pence until we make it t’ Ponieville, we’ll be alright.”
“You’re a blessing, dear,” Henrietta said as she struggled to her hooves and embraced Viekas before she could pull away, “My husband, a cooper; we’ll be proper townsponies, not just peasants anymore.”
“Um, thanks?” Viekas squeaked, and pulled herself free of Henrietta’s grip, “We should prob’ly head on out o’ here.”
“Yes, let’s,” Magnus said enthusiastically, grabbing his and Henrietta’s bags and slinging them across his back, “Onward, to Ponieville and better things.”
***
“Can you believe this?” Magnus asked Henrietta as he looked around their home.
The cottage was small and cramped, especially with Viekas living with the family as well, but to ponies who’d spent their whole lives in poorly-constructed shacks, and the last few weeks in the wilderness, it was a mansion. Ponieville had been without a cooper for a few years, the village’s newly appointed mayor had been persuaded by the local guilds to make any accommodations necessary to ensure Magnus and Viekas stayed. To that effect, the money to purchase a home and shop had been forwarded to the family from the town’s treasury, with the expectation of repayment at some unset date in the future.
Magnus was learning the art of cooping fast, but Viekas still secretly turned out most of the goods. She was gracious enough to share all the proceeds of sales with the new parents, and they both vowed secretly that the filly would be repaid in full and more as soon as she could be. It was more than they ever could have dreamed, going from fearing for their lives in a tiny settlement outside Manehattan to living relatively comfortably in Ponieville in such a short time.
“It almost doesn’t seem real, does it?” Henrietta replied quietly, so as not to wake their infant daughter, “Faust provided, just like you said.”
“And how,” Magnus said, sitting beside his wife and admiring the tiny unicorn together, “Have you thought of a name for her?”
“I’m just still so happy everything turned out alright,” Henrietta admitted, “It’s a miracle she was born into a life where she won’t have t’ worry about all the things we did. ‘Faust will provide.’ We say it all the time, but t’ see it play out like this, t’ see somethin’ so amazing happen t’ ponies as lowly as us, it’s such a rarity.”
***
Year 1000 of the 4th Age
“Celestia does indeed wield absolute power as Cant’r Laht’s Matron of Sorceresses and with many of her other titles, but she chooses to leave many small decisions, especially city matters, to the Lodge of Sorceresses. High-ranking members of the Lodge are also occasionally called to advise Celestia on the rare occasions that she is not familiar with some matter,” Twilight explained Cant’r Laht’s government to Rarity and Applejack, “It is much like the aldermares and alderstallions of Ponieville, who can be called upon to advise Mayor Mare or act in her absence, but otherwise have little influence. Of course, the Lodge is on a much grander scale; over a hundred members are in the 2nd Council alone. Any mage displaying great skill in magic may be selected to join the lower 2nd Council, and after some time may be invited to move to the upper 1st Council. Despite the lack of solid political power, it is still considered a great honor.”
“I should say so,” Rarity observed with awe, “I can only imagine what an honor it would be to receive such an invitation from your peers to join them.”
The three ponies had been talking for hours, while the storm raged on outside of the laboratory. Though Twilight hadn’t meant to monopolize the time, it seemed to her that she’d spent the most time talking, sharing things she knew about Cant’r Laht that nopony here had ever heard a whisper of. Applejack and Rarity didn’t seem to mind, and appeared to encourage it, lapping up every word Twilight spoke about the ivory city. Over time, Twilight began to prefer it as well. Whenever Applejack or Rarity spoke about their lives in Ponieville before the sorceress’s arrival, the other always seemed to be in a foul mood, or had some cutting remark ready. It wasn’t direct hostility, but Twilight could sense some tension between the two ponies, and it was making her uncomfortable.
“It doesn’t seem so great,” Applejack said, contradicting Rarity and earning a glare from the unicorn, “You said yourself, Twi’, that the Lodge has no real power, so it seems it’d be a waste of time t’ be a part of it.”
“You don’t understand what a position like that means, just as a symbol,” Rarity cut in before Twilight could say that there were some sorceresses that felt the same way as the farmer, and that she herself was on the fence about the matter, “Are you saying that if you were appointed as an aldermare, you’d refuse?”
“First off, I would never be appointed aldermare in Ponieville. Second, yes, I’d refuse. There’s no point in wastin’ my time with meetings that wouldn’t decide anything anyway. An’ even if I accepted just t’ get a voice t’ advise the mayor, there’s no way Mayor Mare would listen t’ anything I have t’ say, no matter what title I held.”
“Well, I guess that’s where we differ,” Rarity bristled, “If I was an aldermare, I’d make the most of it and improve my business.”
“It would be nice t’ make money without having t’ work for it.”
“I beg your pardon,” Rarity said, turning red, “Are you implying that I’m some spoilt, do-nothing laze-about?”
“Only if you’re implying that I’m just a poor, uneducated, unworthy peasant.”
“Enough!” Twilight cut in forcefully, startling the other two ponies, “You two have been at each other’s throats since I first invited you in. What is happening between you?”
“Oh, it’s just that Miss Better-Than-Thou-Because-I-Live-in-Town here treats me like I’m unworthy o’ common decency just because I tend crops instead o’ shapin’ metal, snippin’ cloth, an’ wastin’ m’savings on fancy garb nopony’ll ever wear!” Applejack snapped.
“You think your life is so much more difficult than mine?” Rarity retorted, “You understand nothing of what I have to deal with, nor do you understand decency is earned, and you must certainly have not earned it from me, what with your boorish manner and brutish ways!”
“Just how did you ‘earn’ th’ right t’ decide if y’should treat ponies like me with decency?” Applejack demanded, jumping to her hooves, “Just because you were born within Ponieville instead o’ outside th’ walls doesn’t make you any better than th’ rest of us!”
“That would be my breeding, upbringing, and class!” Rarity said with a sneer, also jumping to her hooves and going nose to nose with Applejack.
Twilight rose herself, flabbergasted by the heated argument going on. I had heard rumors that social rifts existed between townsponies and peasants, but I had no idea that it was so blatant or the cause for such malice and conflict.
“You were born within Ponieville, you were not; I do not see that as any reason for conflict, since the two of you really are not so different in my eyes. To any sorceress living in Cant’r Laht, the very notion that any difference in social class between peasants and townsponies exists would be laughable,” Twilight said, and realized she’d chosen the wrong method when the angry eyes turned on her, “Things are basically the same everywhere. There is always some divide—sometimes artificial, sometimes very real—between classes, but ponies are still ponies. The two of you have cut at each other like a nest of sorceresses, but you have also acted as rudely and vilely as the basest Cant’r Laht beggar.”
“Well, I say, Twilight!” Rarity replied, taken aback and more than a little offended that the sorceress had grouped her and Applejack into the same lowly group, but couldn’t say anything more before Twilight shushed her.
“Did you hear that?” Twilight asked, her hooves held up for silence.
“You can’t just-” Applejack protested, but ceased speaking when she heard what Twilight had a few seconds earlier.
It sounded a bit like somepony had run into the side of the laboratory, or was knocking ponderously against the wood. The reverberating thud came again, louder this time, and nopony could deny hearing it. Twilight rushed to one of the windows and carefully pulled back a thick curtain to look outside.
Standing in the blowing snow were eight centaurs in full armor, weapons out and at the ready. In the center of the group was a centaur with a greatsword, the wings and crests on his helm and the generally higher quality of his armor suggesting that he was the group’s leader, perhaps even the leader of the excursion. Two burly soldiers stood on each side of him, and Twilight recognized one of the four as the centaur that had been pursuing Rarity. The remaining three centaurs held weapons, but also staffs that marked them as wizards. One of them kept the spell of winter in place over Ponieville, while another directed the wind in the area to blow snow away and leave only a thin layer on the ground around the group’s hooves. The third was right outside of the laboratory’s door, banging his staff against the protective magical shield as he sought a way to crack it.
“Get back!” Twilight Sparkle yelled to her friends as the centaur wizard’s magic began to resonate with the shield, “Falan otha Ye!”
The magical shield burst into existence around Twilight as the laboratory’s door exploded inward, along with the frame and a sizable amount of wall. Twilight repositioned herself in front of her friends so that her defenses would protect them as well, and bits of wood bounced off her shield, sizzling and blackened when they fell to the floor. A cold wind blew into the laboratory through the new hole in the wall, carrying snowflakes and extinguishing the fire in the hearth. Twilight stood ready for an attack, but none came, and the seconds dragged on.
“Sïnettöl kæs Pönïvil leffæffï kattö!” the centaur who’d broken the spell yelled, then repeated his command in Low Equestrian, “Wizard of Ponieville, come out!”
“What are your intentions?” Twilight Sparkle called back, playing for time as she wove the groundwork for spells and mentally prepared herself to cast an enchantment at a moment’s notice.
“¿Yöng væris mettiffül?” the leader demanded, and the wizard turned his head slightly, so as to be able to see his commander and Twilight at the same time.
“Yöng pötissï kæs vittaï hölu mærs æmäru,” the wizard translated, before requesting no further interruptions, “¿Hü vitta mässu kassïö hef yïniga, äsæmæ?”
“What are they saying, Twi’?” Applejack asked, unknowingly mirroring the conversation going on outside.
“I do not know,” the sorceress admitted, “I speak four languages fluently, but Centaurean is not one of them. Only the peoples of Judd Caradain know how to speak it, and they are not inclined to share the information with anypony in our world.”
“You attempted to counteract my magic. On your own, you must have known that you could not succeed,” the centaur wizard answered Twilight, “You surprised me, and I wish to take your measure.”
“You wish to try to kill me,” Twilight called back, fully understanding the wizard’s intentions.
“Of course,” he admitted, stretching out his arms and holding his staff loosely, “You challenged us, and without the support of additional wizards, you had to have known that your death was a foregone conclusion.”
When she’d initially fought back against the White Procession, she had been acting on reflex earned from years of living in Cant’r Laht, and hadn’t considered the repercussions of doing so in this new location. Now, though, she understood that challenging the White Procession as the only sorceress in the area was sure to draw their attention to her, and on her own she wouldn’t be seen as much of a threat. The White Procession had mages just like Equestria, but they only sent their most powerful through into this world. Two of the wizards outside were preoccupied, and Twilight was fairly confident that she could hold off the one challenging her, but the trouble was that she had to protect Rarity and Applejack at the same time.
“If you won’t come out, then I guess I will have to tear your domicile down around you. Or, I could remove the apparent reason for you holding back,” the centaur wizard said, growing impatient and looking at Applejack and Rarity before waving his free hand forward, “Næssus, vez öennäthï ïssatö”
One of the soldiers stepped forward, a double-bladed axe clutched in one hand. Lowering his shoulders, the centaur rushed forward, his eyes set on the two ponies not directly protected by Twilight’s magical shield. The gap blown in the wall of the laboratory was more than large enough for him to fit through, and his hoofsteps rang out as he stepped on wood instead of muffling snow.
“Bei urga nof otha eri mottiren!” Twilight yelled the moment that the centaur was fully within the laboratory.
A wall of golden fire sprang into being around Golden Oak’s laboratory, the flames rising higher than the centaurs’ height. The seven centaurs outside stepped back from the explosive heat that melted the snow at their hooves, and their commander yelled for them to stay where they were. The lead wizard shouted for the other two to keep their spells going and maintain the winter.
“Ye seni cavan’r seyat!” Twilight shouted as she jammed a forehoof into the runes she’d traced into the floor.
Magical arrows leapt toward the centaur cut off from his compatriots, but he dodged to the side, using his torso to gain momentum, and only one of the glowing missiles sizzled a burn across his armor. The centaur wasted no time and angled back toward Twilight, striking her shield on the side with his axe. The shield shattered in a flash of light, and the force threw Twilight off to the side, though she managed to land on her hooves without much disorientation. The centaur turned toward his true targets, weapon at the ready. Rarity screamed, but Applejack grabbed the tea tray from the floor and threw it at the centaur. Cups and the wine bottle shattered against the centaur’s helm, blinding him momentarily and giving Twilight the time she needed to prepare another attack.
“Cant’r majia tanya Ye’r fecorar!” the sorceress incanted.
Bolts of lightning tore down from the sky and burned through the roof of Golden Oak’s laboratory, striking the centaur. The clouds above were only there because of the White Procession’s magic, and this and the passage through the laboratory’s roof weakened the spell so that it merely incapacitated the centaur for a few seconds instead of killing him. Twilight desperately traced runes on the floor while she kept her eyes on the centaur, watching for any sign of relaxing muscles.
“Get down!” Twilight shouted to Applejack and Rarity as the centaur regained the ability to move, and slammed her hoof down on the runes she’d just drawn, “Ye seni cavan’r essoc!”
A blade of pure magic shot out in front of the sorceress at neck-level and sliced through a wide arc. The centaur’s torso was cut from his body and his hands from their arms. As the afterglow of the spell faded, the warrior collapsed to the floor in four pieces, his axe sliding in the direction of the cowering Applejack and Rarity.
The frigid wind resumed with greater ferocity as the flames outside the laboratory were suddenly extinguished. Twilight Sparkle tried to call something out to her friends, but was interrupted as the wall next to her exploded inward, sending her rolling across the laboratory floor and into a bookshelf. A centaur with a shortsword galloped through the original hole and immediately set his sights on Rarity and Applejack. The farmer grabbed the nearby axe in her teeth and awkwardly threw it at the centaur.
“Come on,” Rarity said, suddenly calm and collected, as the axe bounced off the centaur’s raised forearm.
Applejack followed, seeing that Rarity at least thought she had a good idea, and the two of them galloped up the stairs to Twilight’s bedchamber. The centaur followed, taking the steps two at a time. Twilight turned to cast a spell at him as he ascended, but she was forced to duck down as a shaft of ice impaled the books just above her head. The lead wizard stood in the new gap, his sword and staff held out at his sides, and Twilight’s brow furrowed into a frown. He won’t give up until we do battle.
***
From Twilight’s bedchamber, Rarity led Applejack into the adjoining room and closed the door. The room had originally been used as storage by Golden Oak, and like the majority of the laboratory, the walls were lined with shelving filled with books. Twilight had converted the space into a room for her page, and relocated most of the tomes to make space for Spike’s minimal possessions. On one side of the room was a small bed whose straw mattress had been torn open by the dragon’s claws in his sleep and now resembled more of a nest than a bed. A pitcher of water sat next to the bed, just in case he awoke to find he’d inadvertently lit his bed on fire while he dozed. The only other furniture in the room was a small writing desk and a heavy chest, which Rarity was trying to open.
“What are we doing here?” Applejack asked, looking anxiously at the door.
“Remember when Twilight and Spike got back from speaking with the Griffon Free Companies?” Rarity said as she gave up on prying the locked chest open and turned to looking for the key instead, “Spike went around showing off that flail the griffons gave him.”
“A weapon!” Applejack said, “Y’know, Rarity, that’s not a bad idea.”
“Thanks,” the unicorn replied without a hint of warmth in her voice, “The brutish way you threw the axe at that centaur was good for something, at least.”
“Oh, give it a rest,” Applejack said as she hitched up her robes and struck the chest with her hindhooves repeatedly, until it began to crack and splinter, “Whether you approve or not, I was doing somethin’ useful, like saving your hide out there in th’ snow when y’tried t’ get yourself killed goin’ back for fabric.”
Applejack wrenched open the chest and grabbed Spike’s flail the same moment that the pursuing centaur tore the door free of its hinges. As he raised his sword, the farmer threw the weapon at the centaur’s sword hand. He cursed as the flail wrapped around his wrist, spikes punching through his gauntlet as the head impacted with the back of his hand. His sword dropped from his grip, and Applejack snatched it up before he could retrieve it.
The sword was designed for use by a creature with hands, and Applejack held the weapon awkwardly in her mouth. The hilt was too round to be gripped properly in her teeth, the crossguard obscured her vision, and the blade was not balanced well for use by a pony, but the edge was sharp and it would do in a pinch. Applejack jumped toward the centaur, aiming a slash at the gap in armor under his arm, but the centaur was too quick, and his good arm shot out and a gauntleted hand closed around the farmer’s throat.
The sword clattered to the ground as the centaur lifted her up, squeezing his fingers tighter as she struggled and kicked at his arm. Rarity picked the sword up off the ground and tried to hold it in her teeth like she’d seen Applejack do, but the hilt slipped out and she had to pick the weapon back up. The centaur’s foreleg shot out before she could do anything, and threw her over Spike’s bed.
This is insane! I don’t know anything about sword fighting, Rarity thought as she picked herself back up and grabbed the sword again. But if I don’t act, Applejack will die. Rarity jumped up onto Spike’s writing desk and it wobbled as she used it as a platform to launch herself at the centaur. The centaur twisted his head to the side as he spotted the movement, but not swiftly enough to close the gap in his armor between his cheek and neck guards, and the blade sank in deep, tearing through chainmail links and flesh.
The centaur coughed and blood dripped from the slits in his helm as his strength gave out. Applejack gasped for air as the dead hand released her and she fell to the ground. The centaur toppled over, nearly landing on Rarity, who had to dart out of the way to avoid being crushed under the heavily armored corpse.
“Yes, the fabric in my saddlebags was expensive beyond what is natural for a clothier in a village like this, but I had a reason,” Rarity said haughtily, continuing their argument like nothing had happened, and Applejack looked at her incredulously as she rubbed her bruised throat, “My work requires risks. Sure, I could stick to smithing and making common garments, but I can’t do that forever and be productive, especially when I find no joy in it. I was never meant to make horseshoes and farm implements my whole life, but to move beyond that I need to get the attention of somepony important. That fabric was for Mayor Mare, and I only have one chance to impress her, so the expense was worth it. At least, I thought so, but now I may have lost my only opportunity to move on, and might lose what I already have, besides.”
“Oh. Rarity, I didn’t know,” Applejack croaked apologetically, “You were right before when you said I don’t understand th’ lives of townsponies like you, but you don’t understand my life any more, an’ that’s no excuse for treating me any less than you’d treat any pony you’d consider you’re equal.”
Another centaur charged into Twilight’s bedchamber, the same soldier with the long-handled mace that had chased Rarity to the laboratory earlier. Eyes flashed through the visor of his helm as he spotted the mare who’d escaped him. Rarity struggled to pull the sword from the neck of the dead centaur at her hooves as the live one charged and swung his mace at her head. She pulled back at the last minute, and the mace crushed the helm of the dead centaur. Rarity jumped out of Spike’s bedchamber, climbing over the centaur’s back to do so. Before she reached the floor of Twilight’s bedchamber, the centaur struck out with his armored hindhooves and sent Rarity tumbling across the room.
The centaur turned his attention to Applejack, and raised his bloodied mace. She jumped aside as he brought the head down at her, smashing a corner off Spike’s severely damaged chest. He swung the mace up and around, a baggy pair of pantaloons fluttering from the end for a few seconds, and struck the bookshelf above Applejack’s head, shattering the contents or spilling them onto the floor. Applejack jumped out of the way as the centaur lifted his weapon and brought it back down toward her. Before the weapon struck the ground, the centaur removed one hand from it and reached for Applejack. Almost tripping over Spike’s bed, Applejack grabbed the jug next to it and threw it at the centaur’s outstretched hand, startling him as the jug shattered.
Another jug shattered a moment later, this one on the back of his head, and the oil Spike used to treat scrolls before sending them to Celestia ran down the centaur’s armor and through the cracks. The centaur spun around, his mace still outstretched and nearly flipping Spike’s bed as it whirled in an arc. Rarity threw another jar of the oil at the centaur, this one hitting him in the face and causing the oil to splash into his eyes. The centaur yelled and cursed as he charged blindly in Rarity’s direction.
Applejack pulled the sword easily from the dead centaur now that his head was no more than a crumpled helm and pulverized flesh and bone. Finding a suitable grip in her mouth, she galloped toward the centaur as he swung his mace wildly about. The farmer clambered onto the soldier’s back and began swinging the sword while trying to stay steady. Most of her slashes bounced off the armor or made minimal damage, until she found a vulnerable spot in the armor near the centaur’s upper shoulder and jammed the sword in. She held tight to the sword, keeping it impaled, while the centaur tried to buck her off.
“Applejack, get down!” Rarity yelled, and Applejack released the sword, nearly getting hit in the head by the flailing mace as she was thrown off and rolled across the floor.
Rarity had detached a lantern from the wall and opened the shutters all the way, and now she threw it at the oil-coated centaur. Flames with green edges consumed the centaur in seconds, and he fell to the floor writhing in agony. His mace clattered on the ground until Applejack grabbed it and used it to crush the centaur’s head, as much to put him out of his misery as to keep him from lighting everything in Twilight’s bedchamber on fire.
“Looks like y’need dragon fire t’ send ‘em t’ Celestia,” Applejack commented as the flames died out.
“That’s what you have to say about this?” Rarity said incredulously, then stood in silence for a few seconds, “I’m sorry.”
“What?” Applejack said, genuinely confused and taken aback by Rarity apologizing.
“You’re right. What you said before. Just because we live different lives is no reason to be at each other’s throats. I have no reason not to treat you with just as much decency as anypony else.”
“I appreciate it,” Applejack said, “And I’ll try t’ treat you th’ same.”
The two ponies stood in silence in Twilight’s bedchamber, looking at the two centaur corpses. Outside the laboratory, the wind howled, reminding them that there was no escaping the building without freezing to death. The sound of an explosion came from down below.
“Twilight!” both ponies exclaimed at the same time.
***
“Cavan’r majia thula Ye assi cavan’r falan,” Twilight incanted softly as she rose.
Luminous magic covered the sorceress, encasing her in armor whose glow pulsed slowly between dim and bright. She also cast a simple spell mentally that would keep her warm if the fight took her out into the blizzard and protect her from the dropping temperatures in the laboratory. Twilight Sparkle settled into a battle stance, her eyes hard and focused and her robes flaring slightly, drawn up by the magic sizzling in the air around her.
“Now that’s more like it,” the centaur wizard said gleefully as he spun his staff around and moved his sword into a better grip.
The end of his staff glowed, and the interior of the laboratory became coated in ice. Twilight jumped into the air before the frost could reach her and poured additional power into her warming spell before radiating it, melting the ice in a circle around her. Steam emanated from her as the cold closed in around the sorceress and snowflakes began to strike her. As the centaur advanced, icicles grew at an alarming rate on the ceiling and plummeted toward Twilight faster than her radiant heat could melt them, forcing her to jump out of the way.
“Mrinessen’r torrisal!” Twilight yelled, and the ice on the ground rose up and encased the centaur in a block.
The icicle attacks stopped, giving the sorceress a breather to prepare herself. The wizard remained frozen, unable to move in his prison of frost. A centaur wielding a long-handled mace charged through the hole where the door once had been, and Twilight prepared a spell to strike him down.
“Ye sen-” she began to chant, and was interrupted when something struck her in the side.
The sorceress went flying across the room, her magical armor crackling and consuming the chunk of ice that had struck her. She hit the bookshelves hard and fell to the ground.
“Surely you didn’t think that the only element I was master over was ice,” the centaur wizard mocked as the ice around him melted away and fire flickered over his frame.
The centaur scraped the end of his staff across the ground, and a trail of fire sped in Twilight’s direction. The sorceress leapt to her hooves to escape the fiery demise some of the books met and evaluated her situation. Her magical armor was still intact, albeit damaged, and the centaur wizard was still facing her on his own. The centaur with the mace had disappeared, probably upstairs, and there was no way for Twilight to reach him without turning her back on the wizard, so Applejack and Rarity were on their own.
“Caen’r majia acca Ye’r accael!” Twilight shouted as the centaur sent another streak of fire her way.
A howling wind not of the White Procession’s making swept through the laboratory, dislodging the now-thick chunks of ice from the walls and ceiling. The ice swirled around the centaur, striking him and bouncing away from his armor or weapons, until the whole swarm collapsed on him in a pile, knocking him to the floor. Twilight quickly carved out the semicircle of ice into which she’d drawn runes for an attack on the mace-wielding centaur and rotated them.
“Ye seni cavan’r affle!” she yelled while the wizard was still picking himself up.
A magic lance formed before Twilight and shot away at incredible speed. The centaur wizard rapidly raised a shield around himself, but the lance missed him completely, smashing through a window and flying into the blizzard. The blizzard’s intensity picked up outside as the wizard in charge of tempering it in the area was struck through the heart by the lance he hadn’t had a chance of dodging.
“I attack your compatriots, so you attack mine. I suppose turnabout is fair,” the lead wizard said with a shrug, though Twilight didn’t believe that he was truly unfazed by her attack. He just shifted his body to form a barrier between me and his commander.
The centaur held his staff out in front of him, the globe at the end pointed at Twilight, and all the magic in his shield was siphoned to the tip. The ball of volatile magical energy streaked toward the sorceress, and she jumped out of the way, minding her positioning. An explosion threw her off her hooves as the ball of magic struck the floor and burst, shattering the floor and opening a hole to the workshop below.
Twilight stumbled to her hooves as a spear of ice rocketed past her, burying itself somewhere in the laboratory’s kitchen. Keeping her eyes on the centaur and dodging his magical attacks, the sorceress carefully drew a rune on the ground matching the others she’d placed about the laboratory over the course of the fight. Once it was done, she moved on to escape the increasing attacks, and traced the last symbol. The centaur waved his staff around, dislodging chucks of ice from all around the room and sent them flying in Twilight’s direction.
“Cavan’r falathulon otha Ye!” Twilight called as the ice was about to hit her, and her magical armor flared out into a larger shield that redirected most of the objects about to strike the sorceress before shrinking back to cocoon her body.
The flying ice had been a cover to disguise the centaur’s movements, and he was now almost on top of Twilight, his sword’s blade flashing in the light radiated from his staff.
“Ye seni Mer Isroc’i’r Dorentai!” Twilight yelled, eyes burning, as she placed her hoof upon the rune before her.
The runes around the room glowed and magical energy snaked between them, forming a curving line of power. The energy solidified in an instant into a long chain of pulsing links, and a moment later a wickedly sharp blade sprouted from each link, an especially long one at each place on the ground there had been a rune. The entire length rose up from the ground in a swift jerking motion with the crackling sound of thunder and breaking ice and the howl of a beast longing for blood. What is this power? the centaur wondered with horror.
Directed by Twilight’s mind, the chain flailed around the room, tearing apart the chunks of ice the centaur directed toward the sorceress. The blades struck at his armor as he continued his charge toward her, and he summoned up a shield to keep the chains from fouling up his legs and tripping him. His sword swung down toward the unmoving sorceress’s head, but the chain darted out and wrapped around the blade a dozen times, halting his swing.
“Twilight!” Rarity shouted as she emerged from Twilight’s bedchamber, Applejack at her side. How did they defeat seasoned soldiers? The centaur raised his staff in the direction of the two mares.
“Falan’i otha Applejack nof Rarity!” Twilight shouted as she saw the staff move, and twin shields sprang up around her friends before the centaur’s spell could reach them.
How? She was able to hinder my weather alteration spell on her own with as much effect as an entire cabal of wizards! She can support this many spells simultaneously without any noticeable decrease in effectiveness! Twilight looked up at the centaur wizard, and he was struck by the expression in her eyes, a violet fire burning hot with anger and resolve. What is she? Her magic is of Equus, but there is also … something else there. Some power beyond that of a wizard dwells within this pony. But, what could it be?
The centaur had not realized he was locked in place staring into Twilight’s eyes until she looked away. He followed her gaze, and an icy dagger of fear lodged in his heart. She was staring out into the blizzard, directly at the approaching commander. She can’t mean to cast a fifth spell!
“Eren’r oxelle soretta Ye’r mathis!” she said coldly, and spears of hard-packed dirt erupted from the ground around the commander, several of them piercing his armor.
The centaur wizard tried to pull his sword free, but no spells seemed to have an effect on the magical chains. Neither was he able to attack Twilight directly, for every time he attempted to do so, the chains struck out at his staff and hand or formed a protective barrier.
“Vez Ribbölef äthærïtïer sötter æse!” the last remaining centaur soldier outside called, and the wizard turned to see that their commander was, indeed, mortally wounded. One of the earth spears had impaled a lower lung and his lower heart. Without healing in the next few minutes, he would die for certain.
“Vittaï menüttö kattaï! Vittaï menüttö sæ ökeffa kattaï!” the wizard ordered a retreat before releasing his sword and slamming his staff on the ground to release an explosion of ice that held the chains back long enough for him to get away.
Twilight stood motionless, her chain whipping around, until long after the centaurs disappeared into the raging blizzard.
***
The bright blue summer sky had returned by the following morning, the only reminder of the White Procession’s attack the rare devastated building and the heaps of snow that still covered everything. Golden Oak’s laboratory had taken the worst beating, and it would take Twilight significant time to repair the damage. For the moment, though, she needed her sleep. The fight with the centaur wizard had drained her magical reserves substantially, and she needed large amounts of food, sleep, and time to replenish them.
“Found it!” Applejack proclaimed triumphantly, lifting the saddlebags out of the snow.
Rarity galloped over as fast as she could in the drifts and checked to see what could be salvaged.
“Yes, I think that with some drying and a bit of care, I can save this fabric,” she said, “Thank you, Applejack.”
“Think nothin’ of it,” Applejack said, “Now, I need t’ get back t’ the farm and see what the damage is there. Good luck with Mayor Mare!”
***
The centaur picked up his staff and gauntlets as he walked brusquely away, the blood on his leather gloves smearing across the reflective surfaces. After returning to Judd Caradain, he had regained access to his full range of sorcerous abilities, and healing his commander had been foal’s play. The punctured heart and lung were fully restored, and after a few hours of sleep, the viscount would be back to his old self. That could prove to be both a blessing and a curse, as he would no doubt bring complaints of his injury to his father.
It was inevitable that Duke Bittræen would have questions, even had his son returned unscathed. As Knight-Commander of the White Procession, it was his right to know everything that transpired on a raid, and too much had gone awry on this one to cover it up. It was rare that more than a handful of soldiers died, and then it had always been expected, as an enemy with multiple wizards or a feared army was the intended prey. Not this time. Ponieville was expected to be an easy target, but four had fallen to a single wizard, one of them a promising apprentice.
I’ll have to find a replacement for him, the centaur thought to himself as he entered his chambers, a spacious set of rooms at the peak of the North Tower that were his right as one of the four most powerful wizards in the Procession. Of course, there’s no shortage of youths yearning to join the White Procession. Our order is still respected, even if all we do anymore is raid helpless pony villages for supplies and spread fear and panic across Equus. Emperor Hæsthür’s attention is fixed here, in Judd Caradain, so much that he can’t see the problems we could so easily solve, the problems the White Procession was created to solve as soon as we discovered the way to Equus open.
The Third Empire has expanded to fill nearly every corner of Judd Caradain, and though the civil wars have trimmed our population, we’re faced with overcrowding again. It won’t be long before this globe has more centaurs on it than it can produce food for. At least the Emperor has not constrained the White Procession to this world and his internal affairs, as his great-grandfather attempted to do, likely due to the insistence of his brother. Bittræen is a true believer in the Procession’s mission, to bring about what the ponies of Equus fearfully call The Last Winter. He knows what we must do, but his brother holds us back. If I had been able to unveil my full power, that wizard would not have stood a chance! Such is the way of things, and it would not do to oppose the Emperor’s wishes. Perhaps the next emperor will be more accommodating, and the White Procession will have the freedom it deserves. I doubt I will live to see it; Emperor Hæsthür has sat the throne little more than a century and will sit at least a century more. Unless …
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I will enjoy reading this whilst sipping a goblet of blood and wine.
And once again, I'm completely amazed. Too tired to go fanboy mode, but seriously, this fic is criminally underrated.
i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2017/12/14/08/4751002900000578-5178381-image-a-14_1513241794238.jpg
Hey Centaurs, considering how many chapters are left guess what time it is.
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Geez, Tireks cousins are jerks.
Wait, this is a regular thing?! Hey! Princess Fuckup! Are you going to get up off your lazy ass and do something about this sometime this century?!
So bat ponies aren't Lunas in this one eh? Interesting. Still, I'm expecting some fiery retribution from Princess Fuckup or she's completely dead to me. These are explicitly her ponies after all. In her territory. There is absolutely no excuse for her not to protect them.
I call bull, Rarity, the Apples have to pay land taxes and tariffs and all that just like everyone else, and they own a sizable chunk of land.
Man, Wexel, you gotta step up your king game.
Seriously, is no one in power doing anything about this shit? Seriously, Fluttershy, Pinkie, and Applejack are the only non assholes so far, with Twilight on the mend and Rarity taking a huge dive this chapter. I'm bordering on Darkness Induced Audience Apathy here.
Wait, wouldn't the presence of a better 1st council render a 2nd council redundant?
"Have you heard the good news about our Lord and Savior Tirek?"
Challenged you? CHALLENGED YOU?! You're the ones attacking THEM you blithering moron! Unless this is somehow sanctioned by Princess Fuckup as some kind of population cull you're doing something very very hostile, illegal, and earning of a serious bitchslap. Actually, all those things apply regardless.
To be fair, you guys did seem to be going with a theme.