The Hexer

by Gvozdi

Chapter 4 - The Eternal Fire II: A Lesser Evil

"The wicked Forefather Kreve had pushed the ponies toward the city of brick, Novigrad. It was abandoned, little knew who previously occupied the hold. A strange glow emitted from one of the palaces, in it was a goblet of fire and a strange being. The guardian stated that it had a single job, to keep the fire going for an eternity. But alas, this prophet grew old and wanted to die in peace. The followers of the wicked skygod Kreve had raped and murdered those who were left behind in the initial retreat. Brave colonists came together, both pegasus and earth pony - they worked together to keep the fire going for the guardian told them before he disappeared: 'Guard this fire and for as long as it is kept burning, you and your kin shall survive even the harshest of conflicts. Monster and Equine.' The forces under Kreve were instantly humbled when they entered the temple and began to worship the Eternal Fire, as they knew it was a sign of divinity that would save them from the monsters that inhabited Northern Realms. Pagans became believers and went into the forests, perhaps as the guardian did. Never to return or be heard from again. The Eternal Fire burns to this day in Novigrad. Protecting equine from the dark with its endless illumination."

~Kilopi the Monk, An Eternal Flame to Save Us All

---

"We cannot charge in. If we go in with swords pointed for their throats, they will just kill the hostages and find even more reason to continue their war." Gilroy bargained. When the Hexer thought, they merely stood in place to conserve energy. Selig was restless, he paced back and forth - his wings would flutter on occasion in frustration. In his face, he would not show his worry or his devout doubt that this would end in any way other than blood shed. His men were eagerly behind him, pegasus and pony alike. They wanted blood, their spears fastened to their sides and small axes and blades rigged to their gauntlets. Some of the stallions were huge and bulky, strongly built - others were lean and quick, probably able to hop on their hide legs for more agile attacks if necessary. Pegasus archers and crossbow men flew above in circles, to ensure they had complete security and visual on all things that entered and exited the building. It was unneeded, since the Scoi'tael had entered through the ruins the Hexer foolishly cleared out for them. But procedure was procedure, it also gave the folks and locals some calmness. The colts and fillies were delighted to see the knights and soldiers out in their formations on the ground and in the sky. The Te'Mareian army was no where in sight. The Order ruled around here, obviously - with little restriction.

Selig paused and finally nodded, they had concluded that Gilroy's approach might be the most intelligent - while it seemed to lack the tactical advantage that the knight was only considering before. "The Squirrels, they likely are buried in and entrenched deep. They have some up high, in the support beams - to shoot down at us, while their strongest fighters, the dwarves: surely they have conjugated behind the counters where they could slip out into the fray of things unexpectedly." Selig was intelligent, obviously he did more than just study books on strategy, he lived and breathed it. He must have studied guerrilla tactics for years or simply - he had applied the tactics monsters often use to prey on equine to the tactics of the Squirrels. "Our armour is strong, fortified like Foltest's castle, but it would be useless against dwarven hammer, sickles and axes. Those Elven antlers and arrows could pike us in all the exposed parts of our armour as well. We cannot negotiate with terrorists, but perhaps we can convince them to come peacefully and lay down their arms. Enough blood has been shed today, Hexer."

"You are exactly right." Gilroy uncrossed their arms and checked under their wing for their crossbow, to make sure it was still there. It might come in handy. With their mutant senses, he could hear the heartbeats of the commando that set themselves up inside near the entrance. Selig was right, there was some light wheezing which came from the support beams above. They were either very nervous, anticipating their own ambush - or they were weak and could hardly fight the fatigue of breathing air into their own lungs. Those odds were indeed on their side, but it would not be enough. "They are not going to last much longer. If we had more time and no hostages in there, we could easily wait them out after we collapsed the ruins underneath. They would starve in a day or two, maybe more if they are all hopped up on fisstech and have brought some dwarven nourishment to keep them warm during the night. Either way, they are ravenous for more than just blood."

The Knight nodded. "We must appeal to them, if only to enforce their surrender." Selig raised a hand and then slowly brought it down. His men were disappointed, they were ready for war - but instead, they would be put on standby and told to wait until given further instructions. The Order was all about orders, Gilroy was impressed with how disciplined these zealots were compared to the common troop that inhabited the ranks of the Te'Mareian army. Foltest's units had a lot to learn from the Order. He wondered just how many of them former knights under the three lilies, before they traded in one flower for another. The Burning Rose did not pay, they lived off the donations given to the Eternal Fire. It granted them food and somewhat prestigious living, but most of them were confined to a vow of silence, celibacy or poverty - sometimes all three. "Hold fast, men. The Hexer and I are going to try and provoke their hearts into seeing the light of the Eternal Fire. Only those who give mercy, shall receive it. For our material actions will burn in the Eternal Fire, leaving only our spiritual ones to represent us." Selig would have been a better priest than a knight. If his father wasn't such a hard headed basket case, perhaps this gryphon would have been doing something more pacifist in life. Then again, there was nothing truly pacifist about advocating the death of non-equine.

Gilroy and Selig cautiously walked up the obsidian steps, only to pause at the door. Selig straightened their back and with them, their wings narrowed to give him a somewhat taller appearance - while also helping in the amplification of his voice. "Scoi'tael! We have not come to give you peace, but a sword!" The Hexer exchanged a glare of confusion with Selig that could only be described as a 'what the fuck are you doing'? The gryphon knight shrugged and returned to the task at hand. "Ye who lives by the sword, shall die by it. I ask you to no longer die by the blades of equine and equine defenders. Co-existence may not be possible, but we all live within the borders of one another. We cannot keep this fight going forever!" What a way with words, somehow he managed to both sway the elves into talking while at the same time - reaffirming the faith and commitment of his own men. Selig was too young, brave and smart to be in a bloody business like this. What was he doing, being a mere pawn in this all?

"Gryphon, are you accompanied by another? A certain, Gilroy of Gryphonstone?" Mansi, out of all of the hostage takers, was the first to call out. Gilroy could hear the stag's steps toward the door from a previously concealed position, where they waited in ambush. They shrugged off a quiver of arrows from their back and let them hit the wooden floor stained in the blood of a dead mare. Their antlers were bare, but his comrades were not. He was just as untrusting of the Order as the Order was of them. There was no such thing as negotiations between the two, compromise was a foreign word that did not exist in either language. Not even dwarven. "You recruit a Hexer among your ranks and expect us to believe your pleas of a non-violent conclusion? Bloede Dh'oine! Yn will cáemm ninnau with a sword aép hand!" Mansi was not pleased, his speech had slurred into a combination of Elder and Equine. He was also exhausted, his eyes were heavy like water falling over a mountain.

"Mansi, let us find some kind of compromise. We are going in one way or the other, you can either have you and your commando unit die in unglorious, unheroic bloodshed - or you can have some dignity." Gilroy pleaded, they heard the Elves speak among each other in Elder Speech. They were concerned that if they did go peacefully, they would only face torture or immediate execution anyways. They knew the gallows would wait for them, it was only suitable it would be in their own ancestral home of Wyzma. Whatever it was called before the ponies came, it was an Elven city of high culture. They were too young to remember it, but they still grew up around it all the same. Whether in the non-equine districts, the reservations or the forest surrounding the floating city. Across the small river around the city was shoreline that had a cave, it was where many of them had found refuge in these trialing times. Unknowing of the extent of the Hexer's hearing, they all pleaded with Mansi for a chance to retreat and at least rest. But with all the orens they had packed up, if they did walk away, they might die from the exhaustion of carrying it back to their shoreside in the first place. A lost cause with no end in sight. Just like their war. "They will give you a fair trial. I cannot say that you will not hang, but you understand why, don't you? You were the ones that spilled first blood here, not the equine. You are the transgressors, this time - Mansi."

"First blood... first blood?!" Mansi was deeply offended, the last two words spat from his mouth as if they were poison leaves. He pranced around in a rant, his followers also followed his disillusionment. There was no way out of this, they were going to die here - it was predetermined by causality. They were to be martyrs surely. No one would remember their name, but they would remember their blood. "First blood? This is Elven Blood, Dh'oine! You came here centuries ago and spilled our blood, our land, our families. Now... now we have returned, for this is the consequence that you all must pay! Now it is your blood and your families, but it is still our land! We are Aen Seidhe!" It all came together now. Elven nationalism, equine nationalism. A non-equine lead the equines and dwarven equins followed the deer. It was madness, all of it. The only conclusion of madness is the fruit of it all - violence, chaos and dismay. "Kill them all!" Mansi gave the orders. The dwarves looked among each other and shrugged. They, themselves, had trouble discerning what their commando leader was discussing with all the Elder Speech being thrown around. When Dwarves assimilated, many of them forgot the Elder Speech. Thus why Mansi gave the order in Common, now the blood of equine would run until all is wet with it. The walls of the blank were now being splattered with red dots, from crushed heads from blunt hammers and axes.

Selig formed a fist and thrust it upward in the air. The golden bars from the windows were pulled off with the large axes and sickles some of the Order carried. Ladders were leaned in across the windowsills and allowed for the light armoured infantry to climb into the bank from numerous entry ways. The pegasus archers hovered above the crowd and started to launch their bolts and arrows through the windows of the upper floor - most of them found a target in the brains of the deer marksmans who set up there. Once the top windows were clear, the pegasi too - began their forceful siege of the bank. Selig kicked the door in - he was surprised to find that it was only barred closed by a few tables and chairs. The furniture scattered and soon the entire ground floor of the bank resembled the Battle of Brenna. Elves have spent many seasons scratching their antlers against trees, those same movements would be incorporated into their sword style - which required the handle of the blade be held in their mouth. Gryphons and Hippogifs often mocked the poor swordsmanship of equine and similar species, the weapon required a hand not a strong jaw. Yet, there was something graceful and exquisite about the movements of the deer in combat - who easily overcame the equine Order knights. Among this dance of steel - the dwarven ponies flailed about and swung their bodies as if they were a true extension of their weapons.

Skulls cracked as helmets dented and flesh split as blades sliced. Yet, between the casting of blood and bodies - Gilroy and Selig still remained the centerpiece of it all. The dwarves were able to now appreciate the movements of Hexer swordsplay in a well lit room, unfortunate that it would be the last thing they saw. The monster slayer was just as adept at slaughtering non-monsters to the horrid surprise of all around him. The first dwarves that swung their axes at Gilroy now laid headless on the deck - blood still cast from their neck stumps by the time the Gryphon had sliced the head of the berserker unit. A hoof flew into the air with a tuft of beard, the body twirled and painted a trail of crimson to its final resting place. It happened so quick and so sudden, it might as well have been a flash. The Elves would prove more difficult, as their antlers were not only another weapon to be used at their disposal - but many of them have been modified with steel talons and hooks. Two Scoi'tael stags circled the Hexer, they moved in and out in a whirlwind of moves. Antlers and blades clashed against the steel tempered by the monster slaying guild, but they too - were overcame with a few swings that proved to dismember easily. Monsters were the only true challenge for Gilroy - there was a reason his guild so rarely pulled a blade against the equine and elder races. It was unfair in every way.

Selig, with their heavy and broad sword, cleaved a dwarf down the middle. The golden helmet split in two and crashed into the blood soaked boards. "Masterfully done, Hexer!" A prestigious fighter himself, yet the honourable knight could only compliment his ally in this fragile alliance. The knight rescued his blade from the corpse and gave it a prompt kick to the floor. A deer pranced from over the counter toward him, but the Order Knight gutted them with a wide swing. If he had timed it better, the strike would have severed the stag in half. The bank at this point - now smelled like the ruins bellow. "Witness our victory, brothers!" Selig rallied what remained of his men, the ones that still stood had proved their worth - while the deceased would be remembered fondly as heroes. This was a cult that only found glory in death and killing. All for the greater good of course. Yet, the Hexer still recognized there was a bit of doubt in the face of Selig. There was no honour in the hacking of starved stags and drunken dwarves. At the end of the day, the Order would still be dubbed the champions of this skirmish - even though when the clash first began, the hostages all had their throats gouged, slit or crushed.

Gilroy pulled himself away for a moment. Their blade was gripped by both hands, their stance wide and at their feet - numerous fighters they cut down in literal seconds. He felt his abilities had just been misused. Evil, lesser and greater - if the monster slayer had a choice they would pick either. But it was he who drew first blood, the hostages were taken because of his carelessness, his Hexer neutrality and gryphon inherited greed for coin. "Mansi slipped away." Littered with the dead, the survivors of the short fight had to step over the bodies and make their way toward the stairwell downstairs - to the vaults. At this rate, the surviving squirrels must have decided to leave the loot behind and run for their lives via the ruins. "Your men should stay behind, you too Selig. I can handle Mansi." Gilroy could not believe the words that came out of his own mouth as if they were suddenly gifted with the knowledge of another language. Maybe the chivalrous vows that their fellow gryphon swore to had started to rub off onto them.

"It would be against my duties to not pursue these criminals, white one. Not to mention, you have fought valiantly alongside me as a friend - I cannot let you go alone." Selig quickened their steps and halted the men that followed behind. They wheezed and coughed, some had to nurture their wounds and a break never hurt anyone after all. Their commander still had some smears and patterns of splatter on them that only boosted morale, for none of it was his. Yet, the bloody Hexer inspired fear in them all. The mutant was resented in their eyes and they could not understand their commander's sympathy for him. A fragile alliance, ready to fall apart at the next crack. "As a knight, I bestow upon you my temporary servitude - for the greater good of the Order. Hold fast, men! The Hexer and I will kill the Elven leader. Be wary of ambushes and find any stragglers!" The gryphon ordered as he descended to the vaults with Gilroy. At the bottom of the stairs laid a single dead elf, having bled to death before they could continue their struggle back to their shoreside camp.

Mansi panted and gasped for air as he pranced through the hole in the back of the vault. Most of the currency was gone after all, they had spent the night transporting it elsewhere. They did not merely sit and wait til dawn in the cold vault, they had emptied it. The orens, florens and gods know what else would fund the cause across all the Northern Realms. The commando leader was satisfied but distraught. They peered back briefly at the hole which lead to the vault as they nearly frolicked through the ruins' primary chamber. But when they were eyes-front once more, the two remaining of his unit froze and quickly slumped down to the ground with a thud. "So, you have cut away our escape, Dh'oine?" The stag interrogated, two figures stepped out from the darkness of the passageway and into the light of the chamber. Two crossbowmen, sturdy yet lean stallions that bared jerkins and armour of blue and white vertical stripes. They were the Te'Mareian special forces, the Blue Stripes. "Two scouts? They send two scouts to deal with me and not an entire battalion?" Mansi seemed offended.

One Blue Stripe took a step forward and raised their hoof. The crossbow was a device fastened to the equine's leg, they merely had to place a bolt and pull back with their mouth - beneath the bow of the weapon was a small lever they could pull to launch the projectile. A large deviation from the original gryphon design, which of course - had a trigger and required appendages to operate. "Non-equine whoresons like you go down pretty easily once out of your element." The other scout stood on their hind legs and prepared their own crossbow, the stand off had begun. Mansi turned their head sharply to the right and pulled their curved, jagged blade from its sheath on his back. "Damn elves and their curved swords..." The leading scout muttered. These deadly weapons were hard to block, doge and parry. Especially when you had but a ranged weapon and not a dagger or sword yourself.

"Give up, Squirrel. Te'Mareian special forces stand in front of you and behind you - a Hexer and a Knight of the Order." Selig non-nonchalantly announced their presence, as Gilroy and himself stepped through the hole in the vault into the chamber. His ally glanced at him again in confusion. Knights had no sense of subtly, every word had to be dipped and glistening in poetry which somehow reflected the vows they have taken upon themselves. Selig held their helmet under his arm, it hovered just above their sword's handle, which comfortably sat in the sheath at his hip. "Turn yourself in, I guarantee the Blue Stripes will treat you better than the Order shall. By the Eternal Fire, there is no fair trial waiting for you now after all the blood that has been shed by your kind. We will see you flogged, de-antlered and lacerated before you hung from the gallows."

Mansi stood on all fours, a wide stance for each set of legs, front and rear. They were ready to spin and twirl around the room, being a swordmaster - there was no doubt of their skill. Instead, they let the sword drop to the stone floor. Silence. The only thing that could be heard was the echo of dripping water. "The gallows have had my name for a long time." The elf stood tall and proudly. Their decorated antlers, with all of its additional pikes, hooks and steel teeth - raised to the air. "I surrender." Gilroy narrowed his eyes and tried to hear the deer's heartbeat. He was calm, not a single beat too high or too low. It was hard to determine the honesty or the deceit of Mansi. Elves could be so prideful, even in the wake of defeat there was a song to be told about this years from now. Mansi would be martyr, perhaps that was their original intention. "Wyzim has already been bled dry of its wealth. I will swing happily, but I will also swing free. Knowing my brothers and sisters will have more than enough to fund this conflict for another decade if we have to."

The scout smirked, he looked to his standing comrade who shared a glance and then both of them chuckled loudly. Eventually, it became full blown laughter before they finally contained themselves. A vicious grin on his face, the scout remarked: "Your smugglers were caught just outside of Roper's Gate. They already hang from the gallows in the town quarter." Mansi's heart rate became increasingly high at that. Gilroy did not know if the Blue Stripe spoke the truth or not, but with the reputation of Te'Mareia's special forces being avid non-equine hunters and killers, it was most likely true. The Scoi'tael leader played it over again and again in his head. The heist was a distraction to let gather all of the guards so that they may smuggle the currency through the very entrance to the city. From there, they could distribute it evenly among their contacts in the outskirts and get the orens, florens and so on where they needed to be. But it was the Order that replied to the call of duty, the Te'Mareian forces remained at the gate and caught his brethren which were now corpse-wind chimes for filthy dh'oine. "Don't worry, Rudolf - we were sure to saw off their antlers nice and slow like..."

It was the dwarves that were said to be able to enter battle in a frenzy state, going completely berserk and mindless - only to leave destruction and bloodshed in their path. Gilroy did not anticipate to see just how far Mansi could push his own abilities. They quickly bit the handle of their discarded sword and had leaped over the two equine. Before they could fire a single bolt, the swordmaster had sliced the wooden apparatuses off of their hooves. Defenseless, the lightly armoured scouts were eviscerated shortly after being disarmed. Mansi slashed the lead scout's face, which also crippled his helmet and let it go rolling across the stones on the floor. With an upward gash, they cut a major artery in the pony's neck and then leaped - twirling mid and forcing all of that momentum into a slash that diced the Blue Stripe's scull diagonally. The elf rolled their head back and sliced all four legs off of the soldier before he quickly slashed the chest of the remaining scout. The poor stallion did not stand a chance, the curved lad cleanly amputated a hoof and their head was impaled by the weaponized antler's of their enemy. By the time both of the corpses stopped twitching and squirting blood, the Blue Stripes appeared more red than blue.

"Witness!" Selig pointed a talon and exclaimed. It was loud enough to startle the Hexer at his side, who had unsheathed his steel sword for yet another deadly dance. The Knight quickly bared their helmet over their ghastly feather bowlcut and charged into the battle without any regard for his own safety. Gilroy thought he was mad like his father, perhaps this would be a story of Selig's end that would grant him fame within his own Order as well. His broadsword was lifted from its sheath and held in two, armoured hands. Suddenly, the colour scheme of the armour made sense. The red blood complimented the rose on the center. The rose represented the blood of brotherhood, of equine and its defenders. Gilroy never thought much of symbols, let alone ones that were of supremacy and nationalism - yet the Order had proven to make one just as iconic as the Scoi'tael's use of squirrel tails as decorations for their guerrilla combat uniforms. "Witness me, Hexer! For I am awaited by the Eternal Fire!"

The knight swung their heavysword with the strength and speed of an equine on fisstech. Their muscles surely must have ached from that extensive of an exercise of swordplay. One downward strike had nearly rendered an entire branch of Mansi's antlers, but was knocked back by the strength of the elf. Gilroy quickly ran into the engagement, but even their swordplay proved slow for the skilled swordsmaster. Selig and Gilroy's blades sliced and diced the air, but had difficulty hitting a vital place on the agile stag. Mansi rolled across the ground, only to spring up and somehow prance over the two standing gryphons. The Scoi'tael commander gored Selig in the side. The antlers, tipped in rugged steel teeth and hooks, pierced the armour of the gryphon and then yanked themselves in the opposite direction. The Knight of the Order was flung through the air, but their heavy armour only made their collision to the ground loud and painful. Selig was of many words, but after this injury - they suddenly spoke none.

Gilroy had faced monsters and beasts with horns or antlers before. But so few had the intelligence, the training and the grace that a Deer had over their own. The Hexer felt as if they had started a fight with three or four skilled swordsman at once. The steel blade was constantly parried against the antlers, before eventually - they caught they blade at the right angle and with a twist - sent the sword flying toward the wall of the chamber. "Dh'oine lovers! You have chosen to assist those who will only persecute you until the end of your days!" Mansi taunted, before the Hexer could cast a Sign to defend himself - the deer bucked him hard onto the ground. He quickly propped himself up, but kept low to the ground. The Hexer had retrieved their crossbow from beneath their wing at this time, with a bolt ready and set to fire - they took aim at the Deer. "Once they finish my race off, they will hunt you to the seas! They will enter Toussaint and rustle your cages, smash your unhatched eggs against the rocks!" A bolt whistled through the air, but in a graceful jump and twirl the deer had avoided it with the well rehearsed dodge.

Quick to try and place another bolt into crossbow, Gilroy looked down momentarily but was struck with an antler across the face soon after. He took the momentum and rolled, soon they were back on their feet with only one option. Mansi charged them and the curved sword narrowly missed the tip of his beak. "No matter who dies here, the Scoi'tael will have the last laugh! When we elder races are long gone, the equine will eventually just ethnically cleanse themselves to the point of extinction!" Perhaps the deer was right, the equine races had a tendency to nearly wipe each other out every other year. The Northern Realms have only enjoyed a brief peace as a result of the conclusion of the war with Nilfgaard. Much like the fragile alliance Gilroy once shared with Mansi during the wraith contract, things would change quickly and surely. Consequences for every action. "The age of the sword and ax is here! And soon the land will be drenched with the blood of elves, the time of contempt will run all over your civilizations built on deer and dwarven ruins! Then, the world will be lost in the White Frost!" The elf spurted out their own dirge, works of poetry and contemplation over philosophy and prophecy. Impressive, considering they still managed to say all of this with the handle of a blade clenched between their teeth.

The Hexer unsheathed their silver sword and twirled it over and under. Mansi retreated momentarily but charged up front with another flail of antlers and his curved blade. Gilroy side stepped and dropped to a single knee, the sword which was posed behind him - sharply shot upward at an angle and sliced the tip off of Mansi's face. "Now you really do look like Rudolf." The mutant commented, the elf had pranced backward and threw themselves toward the shadows of the passage way which lead to the exit of the ruins. Without their front lips and nose, it was impossible for them to grasp their elven sword. Mansi snarled, as his face curved with anger, it only squeezed out more blood from their grisly wound. "Look at you, you are no different than the Blue Stripes or the Order. You are a bigot and a monster, you have become what you hate. You have assimilated - Mansi. Just not in the way you might think." Gilroy approached them casually, standing with a non-defensive stride and the sword idled, pointed downward in one hand. "What is the point of it all, Mansi? I am not here to take sides, no one can be right when both sides are wrong. The Order, the Scoi'tael... you hate each other and you let that hate rule your lives. But no - I am not here to judge or join one monster or the other. You killed innocents today, that is blood you have forced upon my talons..."

Mansi gulped down a pint of blood, it was more than enough to make him feel sick. He backed up slowly as the Hexer approached. "That sword is for monsters..." Their eyes dotted toward the silver sword and his head nodded toward it. Gilroy briefly lifted it up to view their own reflection in it. The deer was right. It was not a sword for self defense, it was silver meteorite crafted in the image of the School of the Wolf. It was a weapon Hexers carried not to defend themselves, but all of Equestria from the terrible things that surrounded campfires at night, lurked in bogs or swamps. This weapon was as much as a Hexer as Gilroy was. It did not need sleep or nourishment, it did not fear ghouls, hags or wraiths. The sterile mutant swung it once toward the ground, which drained its visage of the deer's blood. He sheathed it slowly, then looked back up at the Scoi'tael commander. "Vatt'ghern... Scoi'tael are not monsters. We are outcasts just like you. You know what it is like to be thrown out of villages, to be sneered at just because of what you look like, the way your eyes are formed in your skull... I tried to live a normal life, Gwynbleidd. The gods did not make the world like this, equine did. If not for Dh'oine and Dh'oine lovers like you and that knight, I would be happily fishing or hunting somewhere on my ancestral lands... When will you learn that you and I are a leaf on the same branch?"

Gilroy shook his head. "No, you are wrong. I am not like you. Not because Hexers are neutral. I did not have a choice in being what I am, but I still live with it everyday. Even if it means I am spat on. Colts and fillies run away from me, villagers close their shops and husbands hide their wives. I am more of a monster than you ever will be, but you have a chance to assimilate. Even a shitty life for you is better than the Path I walk." The Hexer stepped back and examined the leaky passageway. It looked like even more water has managed to drip into the ruins from the crowd that stood on the streets above. "I am sorry equine have driven your people so far, Mansi. But if you wanted to make a point, you could have done it by proving the equine wrong. That you aren't savages. Instead, you only discredit your own race and those who have assimilated will now face persecution because equines fear elves. Because of you, there is going to be a pogrom for non-equine up there."

"So be it, then, so be it! What is the point of living among Dh'oine? They drink, they fornicate, they hit their young - they have no sense of right and wrong but stark contrasts. This is a world ruled by them now, so yes - I have assimilated, Vatt'ghern. I have become the very demon they tell stories about, a cautionary tale as to why you should not help the poor deer on the side of the road, begging for food." Mansi spit a large clot of blood at their feet. His body shook, he was hungry, thirsty, fatigued and now losing a lot of blood. He knew this was the end for him. Whether he succumb to his own injuries or the hands of the Hexer, he did not care. He closed his eyes and raised his head one last time, they imagined themselves in the meadow, in the forest. Where everything was harmonized, at peace with one another. Nature lived alongside them, it gave and it took away. It gave life and it gave tragedy. It as the order and balance to things, the wheel of death and rebirth that was simply turned to disease, famine and genocide by equine. "End this existence for me, Gwynbleidd. My ancestors are smiling upon me and somewhere, my beloved Frija is watching..."

The Hexer cast the sign of Aard and the Deer was launched down the passage. The walls gave way and dirt rushed into the corridor. Mansi screamed out in one final feeling of pain before he exited this world, the ceiling collapsed on top of him and a torrent of sewer watered poured over the site that would become his grave. The crowd above felt the tremors and screamed, for they thought that the elves have done something terrible. No amount of chivalrous knights would be able to contain the small lynch mob that had now gone tavern to tavern, hanging dwarves and deer who lived in the poor, non-equine districts. "May you find some peace from your hatred Mansi, sadly Wyzim is cursed and it will only last another hundred years." Gilroy sighed and looked upon the grave one last time. Their talons fumbled with their medallion, there was no vibration or rumble. Thankfully, Mansi did find some peace and would not return a wraith to haunt these ruins as Aelivan Nosaen once did.

The Order would later enter the chamber to recover the bodies of the Blue Stripe scouts, as well as their gravely injured commander Selig. The Hexer was no where to be found. The corpses of the Scoi'tael were left to rot beneath the bank for years to come until they chamber itself would collapse after a tremor. A once prestigious bank became a shrine and memorial to the brave Knights of the Order that perished there. Renovated and refurnished, the bank became a meeting place for Church of the Eternal Fire members as well as a recruiting lodge for the Order. Since the incident, racial skirmishes became more frequent in the outskirts of Wyzim and its non-equine districts. The Order remained bigoted and brutal. Selig was promoted to Captain of the Guard and began to take on duties that were once exclusive to the Te'Mareian military in ensuring the peace of the residents of Foltest's capitol city. When the Hexer's doings were discovered in relation to the escorting of Elves through the ruins, a campaign against the mutants was launched by the Eternal Fire - a campaign that would spread across all of Equestria. Selig, despite his position and chivalrous vows to the Order - promised and ensured that no one would spite Gilroy's name directly. To this day, the gryphon knight has affectionately defended his friend.

Author's Note:

The conclusion to the fragile alliance between Gilroy and his strange friend
Hardship will surpass all good deeds, in the time of contempt - where the ax and blade rule

Comments

[Nightsoul]

This is amazing, hope to read more!

[Gvozdi]

9002705
Thanks bro!