A Knight's Tales

by Modern Masquerade

Anger

The proceedings of the funeral fell into a hazy blur, Prism had never felt smaller or more helpless, regardless of her mark. At her own request as soon as she understood what was happening, her cute-ceañera was to be delayed. The consoling faces of relatives, the offered condolences from so many older ponies, even the precession before the royal palace blurred together. There were two things that stuck hard with the disillusioned Prism, the dedication into the family mausoleum and meeting the ponies who had been the last to see her mother.

After a winding parade through their village, where every pony had come to pay their respects, Prism was there to see her mother’s casket brought into the Canterlot Necropolis. Monuments and gravestones towered over her from every angle, sanctified by countless holy symbols. Each of these ponies had their own story, no doubt, and Prism shuddered to think of how many of these stories had been cut off in this manner. Up ahead, the casket was carried into the Ward family mausoleum, a great monument to the glory of the whole family. On the outside, a unicorn cast a spell on the marble facing, crafting a new statue of the beloved Sight Ward. Its likeness was uncanny, and Prism felt something new inside, a warmth pushing away the malaise like a festering sore.

Before the monument, ponies from all walks of life who had been touched by Sight spoke of her. Her parents, weeping at the years they’d lost, the pettiness that had driven their daughter away from them. Fellow knights, telling tales of her accomplishments and great deeds. Hammer, who could hardly stand before the crowd as he told the tale of how they’d met. Very notable, though, were a couple of earth ponies who weren’t known by any in the crowd.

They walked to the front in their tattered clothes, looking equally worn themselves. It was the stallion who spoke first, a young Mr. Wheat, he told the story of how the two were in their wagon and moving along a road in the wood looking for a good place to homestead when something went wrong. A great monster, some demon of tartarus erupted from the ground before them and attacked the couple. As he began to break up his wife continued the story. As they cowered in their little wagon and cried for help, Sight charged in from the woods with enchanted speed. She told the two ponies to run down the road while she engaged the monster, and so they did. It was not until nearly an hour later that the two returned to the wagon after the knight hadn’t come to get them. There they found Sight, with the demon nowhere in sight, having succumbed to her wounds.

As Prism listened to the story, she expected to be filled with pride and joy for her mother’s sacrifice and how she had followed her code to the end. Indeed, Prism could feel this pride, but there was something else deep down, a voice begging a question, ‘why did this happen?’ While Prism wanted to deny it, these thoughts spawned more, and by the time she had been returned to her bed for the night she was beside herself with this simmering injustice. Her ma had been the protector of the village for many years, yet this stole her away. Why would the gods above allow such a thing? This was wrong, she knew, it wasn’t fair.

By the morning as she went to the academy, the warm spark from earlier had ignited into a flame, and Prism raged in a futile silence. She raged against the world that had taken her ma away from her. She raged against the pitiful looks of those around her. She raged against her emotions so out of control. But above all else, she raged in a silent fury. At lunch her thoughts went to the plush she’d made all of those years ago, which had taken up a home in her stuffed bags alongside her other emergency kit. She pulled out the doll and gave it a heavy hug, feeling none of the warmth the faded enchantment had once provided. This proved a tipping point, as hot tears streamed from her face as she yelled in desperation, uncaring of the ponies all around.

One of these ponies, though, took notice of her. A young unicorn stallion, he stood in the silence as he brushed off his robes with a flick of magic. Two others sitting with him gave small shakes of their heads, their eyes pleading in desperation for him not to cross this line. He sneered the two back into line as he approached Prism with a malevolent eye. His voice to Prism’s ears dripped venom as he looked down on her in mocking sincerity, “Sorry to hear about your mother, Prism.” The filly shot an eye of barely contained rage toward the teal stallion as he continued speaking in that same tone, but Prism couldn’t hear him over her growing rage. Every word from his mouth fanned the flames until finally he crossed the line as he raised her chin with a touch of his magic, “Now how about a smile, huh?”

Something snapped in Prism, as she manifested a weapon, a vicious looking warhammer, in an instant. Before Hex could turn to see it, it had struck him hard against the jaw. The commotion spread like a wave through the common room as ponies backed off from the fight or ran to get teachers. A flash of rage crossed Hex’s eyes as his horn came alight to cast what Prism noted to be one of the accursed enchantments he was so skilled in. In a furious attack, Prism targeted the very manifesting point of the gathering energy, smashing into the stallion’s horn with a mighty blow from the hammer. The cracking thud was heard across the room as Hex lost his concentration, and nearly his horn. His voice slithered through gritted teeth as Prism advanced on him, “You upstart little-” The stallion’s words were interrupted as he found an aura of the raging Prism’s magic surrounding him. Prism yelled with open fury as she threw Hex into the wall, holding him against it with an iron vice of her magic against his tender caster’s throat.

Hex’s fury faded into fear as he realized his predicament, and finally desperation as he began clawing in vain against the force holding his throat shut. Prism was blinded in her fury, having now a target for all that she’d been feeling, a reservoir for all her hate. Something that she could fight. Something that she could destroy. It was only when she was suddenly grabbed from the side that she lost her grip and dropped the poor stallion. Prism looked to find who had done this, only for Aura to pull her tighter into a tear filled hug. She spoke gently, trying to calm her friend, “Prism, this isn’t you. You know that.”

The fire of rage flared in Prism once again as she pushed Aura away. Her fury blinded her thoughts as she shouted now at her best friend, “What do you know? If I was there, maybe she’d still be!” Hot tears started to flow from Prism now too as Aura cowered slightly at her friend’s wrath. “My mom would still be here if I wasn’t saving you!” Silence once again overtook the crowd as Aura started to break down completely. She knew her friend didn’t mean these words, but that didn’t remove the sting. Aura ran away through the crowd as Hex’s friends dragged him away to the nurse, leaving Prism alone when Ace arrived.

Ace didn’t scold her, he didn’t talk down to Prism, he hardly talked to her at all. He simply asked her to tell him what happened in his office. Without the pressure of the crowd, and having gone so far in her fury, Prism started to sob. She hadn’t meant those words, she hadn’t meant any of this. “It’s okay to be angry, Prism. Gods know that I’ve felt it...” Ace spoke with a sage tone, and a look in his eyes that belied his experience in the manner. “Still, we can’t let that control us.” Prism nodded as she wiped away her tears with a heavy handkerchief. Ace seemed satisfied as he moved to the door, “Good to see you got the message, now why don’t you start making things right?” The door opened to reveal Aura, who ran into the room to her friend. Though this time, she was the one being embraced.