Imbalanced: Legacy of Light

by Nameless Narrator

9: Good news and bad news.

“Black Thorn, back off!” Mist Shield barked a command, his horn lighting up with glacial slowness. He wasn’t stupid enough to use magic in the vicinity of one of those abominations, but he wouldn’t leave two of his shot and stunned colleagues hanging unless it was his life or theirs. With that in mind, only the faint shimmer of his telekinesis enveloped Deadeye whose wings hung limply from his back as he floated towards Black Thorn’s back.

“Damn! How much bad luck can we get after this?” Black Thorn growled, backing away from the black creature nonetheless, “Fucking Separated on top of everything else, and...” he froze, clutching his head, “We’re so dead...”

“We’ll deal with this. We’ve been through worse,” said Mist Shield firmly, trying to persuade... himself, really. He wasn’t exactly sure how their employer would react to the loss of both the treasure and the amulet, but there was always a way. They had to get out of here, patch Deadeye and Vial up, and regroup.

“He’ll freaking KILL US!” Black Thorn screamed. His voice made the Separated flail his back tentacles menacingly, and prime for a jump forward. Black Thorn didn’t lie to himself about the ten or so pony lengths away being anywhere near safe distance. Maybe if there was an electrified steel wall there as well, he’d be calmer, but not by much.

“We. Will. Deal. With. That,” Mist Shield levitated Vial on Tower Shield’s back, followed by both unicorns and the earthpony slowly backing away, not letting their eyes from the Separated. Besides, the situation wasn’t really that bad unless they made it bad. Vial and Deadeye were bleeding, but the bullet wounds were either shallow or just scratches thanks to his protective magic and the fact that whoever the thieves were they used low caliber, silenced pistols. The Separated probably wouldn’t attack them unless they made some very stupid move, so they’d likely get to safety. They still had the gold in their own backpacks and saddlebags, and none of their extremely expensive equipment was missing as well. Plus, the scales from the dragonpony girl would eventually make a set of excellent gloves or boots either for sale or their own use.

Of course, there was the matter of their… employer, as Black Thorn had so delicately screamed in his face. The thieves’ ambush had been far too well coordinated for them to be just some gang. Sadly, there was no chance of interrogating the bleeding dragonpony anymore, so they’d have to ask some serious questions later elsewhere. Wyrmlure was an average-size city by the Empire’s standards, but few broken muzzles and mind scanning spells always did the job in getting to someone eventually.

As soon as the dragonslayers were in the nearest street leading out of the plaza, they turned their tails and ran.

Harriet, with her head between the hind legs of the black creature standing atop her, was calm, in the strange, resigned sort of way. The bleeding, exposed flesh of her legs stung and burned, and so did the single missing scale Black Thorn had had time to remove from the top of her muzzle. The pain was fading, though, and the bleeding was only a trickle. She wouldn’t die from it. Sepsis, infection, or something worse? Definitely. Bleeding out? No, she wouldn’t be that lucky.

I should have stayed home. My dad couldn’t deal with this. What did a stupid, big, fat oaf like me think she could do? I deserve to turn into a moss creature.

She let her head flop to the side, noticing thin white veins in the equine’s otherwise inky skin and hooves thanks to the glow of her helmet. They’d given her a prop armor and rifle that hadn’t helped at all, only Terry’s helmet was a proper one, and she got smashed even with it.

The legs next to her face disappeared. She tried to follow them by turning her head, but something soft, long, thin, and flexible stopped her. Then more of those things wrapped around her legs and barrel, completely restraining her with impossible strength considering they were about as thick as two of Harriet’s claws each.

The Corrupted creature was sitting next to her, tentacles on its back binding Harriet. It was… big. Not in a bloated way, simply a pony-shaped being bigger and broader than Harriet herself. Smaller than the Corrupted griffon she’d met with the mercenaries before, though. More tentacles took off a… backpack from its back, and it rummaged inside for a second before pulling out a bottle of something.

Harriet gurgled when spikes of searing pain shot through each leg one by one as the creature poured the liquid on her wounds. It was a miracle she was still conscious with all the pain she’d suffered tonight, but she was nothing if not tough, although she’d appreciate everything to finally be over at the moment.

The feeling of red hot needles being repeatedly jabbed into her legs from the inside slowly subsided, and a string of saliva and blood coming from the corner of her mouth was carefully wiped by a clean piece of cloth. Cooling numbness replaced the pain eventually, and Harriet’s gasping for breath turned to simple breathing which gradually slowed down as well. She wasn’t still allowed to move her limbs, but the tentacle holding her head steady retracted.

It was bandaging her legs. The moment of clarity from the shock at realizing that broke her out of her stupor.

Only then, she was finally in a mental state to notice what her eyes had been telling her pain-fried brain the whole time. The creature was a male, and not a Corrupted, but one of those Separated the mercenaries had talked about. Then, however, she realized an even more important thing - the dragonslayers, ponies able to fight dragons on even grounds, had fled from this creature without thinking about it twice. Granted, some of them were wounded from the ambush, but she still didn’t see a reason for elite fighters like them to turn tails and run immediately.

Not that she was complaining.

Seemingly satisfied with his work, the Separated leaned down to examine the spot where Black Thorn had skinned Harriet’s muzzle. Harriet couldn’t help cracking a weak smile when his tentacles fumbled, dropping the bottle of disinfectant, with a different one catching it in the next instant. Unfortunately, when the hissing liquid touched her muzzle, Harriet could only open her mouth in a silent scream again. With everything that had happened to her legs, she completely forgot that Black Thorn had broken her nose again, and now she was getting a crippling reminder as the disinfectant dripped from the flayed spot to the shattered bones under the scales.

The Separated leaned backwards, back tentacles flailing for a moment and spraying disinfectant everywhere. The back of Harriet’s head dropped on the flagstones again, her eyes closed. She tried to breathe through her open mouth, because she knew that if she sneezed, she’d probably pass out from shock and agony this time for real.

The Separated put everything away into his backpack, leaned close to Harriet, and said in a choked and growly voice:

“Hospital. Where.”

No inflexion, only solitary words.

“...dnngh...” she tried to whisper that she didn’t know. Her throat abused by screaming far too much didn’t allow her. Harriet decided to shake her head, hoping the Separated would understand.

“No. Hospital.”

Another shake.

“Not. Know. Hospital.”

Harriet’s forced smile and a nod made him think, then his tentacles grabbed her and pulled her as if she weighed nothing on his back where even she looked normal-sized. He opened his mouth, three long and thick tongues darted into the air where they swayed for a while before retracting them. Now apparently knowing direction to somewhere, the Separated moved.

He was incredibly fast, but also... fluid. Harriet felt as if she was lying on some soft, gently floating surface, which nonetheless moved many times faster than she could gallop.

Two startled Legion soldiers jumped backwards, immediately aiming their rifles at the Separated who stopped right in front of them.

“Hospital. Where.”

They exchanged glances, then noticed Harriet.

“Well, now I can retire. I’ve seen everything,” said the griffon. Nonetheless, one guard took place in front and one behind the Separated, and ran as fast as they could with their talons on the triggers. Harriet’s body, her head hanging from the Separated’s back, finally decided that there’s something like hard limit, and shut down.

***

Harriet didn’t want to wake up. Everything was soft and warm, and her befuddled mind wanted to enjoy it for as long as it could. Unfortunately, the soft warmth of the sun tickling her nose had other plans. No matter what she tried to fall asleep again, her body gradually responded to the distant noises, and her eyes opened.

She was lying in a bed inside some white room. A quick turn of her head revealed a tall, black, pony-like creature staring straight at her, six short tentacles on its back gently swaying in the air.

“...eep...” she groaned quietly. Her throat was unbelievably sore. Come to think of it, her legs were numb. Memories from her previous conscious moments slowly trickled back. Right, the Separated sitting next to her bed had saved her after she'd done something really dumb, “...I’m stupid...”

One of the Separated’s tentacles extended and patted her head.

“Doctor,” he hissed and left.

Strange creature. Not that I’m complaining.

He soon arrived with a frowning nurse accompanied by a doctor whose face brightened when he saw Harriet conscious.

“Doctors,” the Separated trotted over, two tentacles pointing at his… uhh, victims probably. Harriet couldn’t help cracking a smile as she imagined the Separated walking around the hospital, simply grabbing the two nearest medicine-y looking griffons, and dragging them here.

“Ahhh, it’s you, miss-”

“Harriet,” she tried to raise her voice, but the violent sandpaper in her throat combined with her rather numb muzzle didn’t allow for much.

“-miss Harriet, the strange pony carried into the hospital on the back of a Corrupted-” the Separated jabbed him with a tentacle, and with a different one produced a scroll case from his backpack. The doctor quickly skimmed it, “-or a Separated with his own certificate of not being allowed to eat others signed by Equestrian royalty. You learn something new every day in this job, I swear. I’m doctor Warren. Anyway, how are you feeling?”

“Numb.”

“I suppose that’s good, considering your shape,” the doctor nodded, nudging the nurse, “Bring the Legion soldier here, nurse. I think this is what he’s been waiting for.”

“Soldier?” asked Harriet as the nurse left.

“You were unconscious for two days, miss Harriet. The two Legion soldiers who escorted your Separated… companion here reported the events of the evening to both us and the Legion, including suspicions that you had something to do with some nighttime disturbance in the southern square,” Warren shrugged, “None of that is my business. Now, welcome to the Wyrmlure General Hospital, post-emergency care to be exact. Let me start with some questions before I pull out the bad news.”

“Goon news after the bad news?” Harriet looked at him hopefully.

“The good news is that you are still alive and have all four legs, at least for now. The Separated did a shockingly good job providing first aid to you.”

“Alright, ask away, doctor.”

“What are you? I must admit I haven’t seen anyone like you, nor even heard about a pony with both your build and characteristics,” he tapped a talon against his beak.

My scales, right. My remaining scales...

“I’m a dragonpony, or as dad sometimes said - dracon. Dad’s a dragon, and mom was a pegasus.”

“Whoah, how does that work? Nevermind,” mumbled Warren, furiously scribbling in a notepad, “Say, and this is a wild guess of mine, should by any chance your legs be covered in scales as well?”

Harriet nodded, wincing at the memory of the skinning knife ripping her flesh apart. It was time to come clean. She had no other clue on how to find the dragonslayers, and she was certain the next time they’d just chop bits off if she found them. It was time to go home, she failed...

“I got into a fight with a group of ponies who skinned my legs because of my dragon scales. The Separated saved me.”

“The Legion soldier will want to know details about that. Now-”

“The bad news?”

The doctor gave her a serious look, fidgeting with the notepad in his talons.

“We don’t have the knowledge to heal wounds like yours. I don’t know if you can regrow your scales, and I don’t know if you won’t get infected or suffer any additional side-effects of this. A griffon would need long term care, which this hospital won’t offer you, because you don’t seem to be covered by any insurance company. Where are you from?”

“Windy,” Harriet put her head back on the soft and friendly pillow, “A small town on the eastern edge of the Empire.”

“A rural area in the Redtalon territory,” the doctor nodded, “That explains it. Alright then, the best I can offer you now is advice. The hospital rules allow you to stay here until the Legion soldier is done questioning you, but then you’ll have to leave if you are capable of walking.”

“I can barely feel my legs...”

“Bandages and numbing agent. You don’t show signs of bone or sinew damage, only the scales. The biggest risks are dirt and bacteria, because your… skin is healing very slowly. Barely at all, to be precise. We’ll do some more tests after everything wears off. As for your muzzle, your bones are healing remarkably well, although I’d advise against eating solid food for a day or two.”

“I have some gold...” Harriet looked around, letting out a relieved breath when she noticed her backpack by the bedside table.

Warren shook his head.

“If we can’t help you with your legs, it would be against my conscience to take money from you. Short term stay and emergency care are covered by the Empire, so there’s no problem there. You need a specialized pony hospital, and Wyrmlure isn’t big enough to have one. Luckily for you, Griffonstone is only few days by train away, and there's definitely one there, being the biggest port between Equestria and us. I believe you might need magic to recover properly.”

That kind of made sense. There had been times when neither doctor in Windy had any idea what was wrong with Harriet. Sneezing fire, size, itchy scales, weird smells… she’d simply had to get through everything with the help of good old rest and hearty vegetable soup. Harriet knew mom had always put a bit of meat in it despite her own reservations.

She’d almost met her again far too soon. Wasn’t her goal somewhat complete now, though? The dragonslayers lost what they had come for as well as all their treasure. Treasure which they seemingly had gotten from someone else who would be really mad at them. As she recalled, they had been terrified of losing the cart. If she stopped now, her dad wouldn’t get his revenge, but at least he would still have a daughter.

I think I’ve had enough globetrotting. It’s time to go home.

“Thank you, doctor. Does the train go from here to that… Griffonstone place?”

“Of course. It’s not far, as I said,” the nurse returned, exchanging few quiet words with the doctor, “I believe your questioning is in order now, miss Harriet. If you’re hungry afterwards, the cafeteria on the ground floor offers drinks suitable for someone with your problem.”

Warren left, replaced by a big griffon wearing sand-coloured Legion suit. He wasn’t alone, though. A second griffon, this one wearing nothing but a black jacket rimmed with silver, was with him, eyes immediately locked on Harriet. Surprisingly, the less armored griffon didn’t seem to mind the Separated, even going so far as to pat his neck before sitting down on the chair next to Harriet’s head.

It was the soldier, however, who spoke first:

“Miss Harriet, we have a report here concerning a… fight in the south square two days ago. Do you know anything about it?”

Harriet was past the point of even thinking about lying. All she wanted now was to go home and give her dad a hug. If he was already back from the Dragon Lands, he had to be worried sick. With that in mind, she admitted everything. From the theft in Windy, through her attack in Wilbur’s Pass, and to the ambush two days ago. The jacketed griffon didn’t talk at all, instead he offered his foreleg to the Separated who seemed to be interested in his talons, at least judging by his tentacles starting to wrap around them soon after Harriet had began talking. He only made a note here and there, always untangling his captured foreleg, much to the Separated’s disappointment.

“Do you wish to press charges?” asked the soldier when Harriet was done, and everything was written down and signed, “You’ve told us some names, you are a credible witness, and a group of Equestrian citizens committing murder on Imperial territory is a big deal.”

“I...” Harriet sighed, “At this point I just don’t want to see them ever again. Wait, the Legion soldiers at Wilbur’s Pass told me the crime wasn’t in their jurisdiction.”

“The Legion can prosecute whomever we want, wherever we want in the Empire. It is likely the soldiers who detained you after you attacked this… Black Thorn were only stationed in Wilbur’s Pass. At worst, we can investigate and pass the case onto Equestrian law enforcement.”

“Umm, that would be great,” Harriet tried not to show too much enthusiasm, aware of how much of a long shot the chance of success was, “Do I have to do anything?”

“No, not at the moment, considering we have your testimony,” the soldier shook his head, “However, we’ll need to know your planned whereabouts just in case.”

“The doctor said they couldn’t heal my legs here,” she pulled her heavily bandaged foreleg from under the blanket, and the soldier winced in sympathy, mouthing- or beaking ‘monsters’, “and said they might be able to do so in some place called Griffonstone west of here. I should take the train there and ask a specialized pony doctor to have a look at me. Then I think I’ll go home.”

Nodding, the soldier stood up, saluted to the jacketed griffon, and left. Harriet’s remaining visitor, without any pleasantries, said:

“I am sorry for your loss, but I have to ask something more. We are familiar with the group of monster slayers in question, and this situation doesn’t fit their observed modus operandi whatsoever. You said they stole some necklace. I’m going to show you something now, and you’re not allowed to talk about it with anyone else, nor describe what you’re going to see under any circumstances, got it?”

Taken aback by the order, Harriet nodded. The griffon produced a photo from a pocket of his jacket. She took it, feeling slowly returning into her legs… unfortunately. In the picture, there was something which looked like a square block of granite, all covered in some weird writing.

“Hey, that looks like the cube that was on the necklace only, you know, not huge. The weird symbols look similar, but I don’t understand any of it, and I only got a short look at it, so I can’t really say.”

“You have said enough, miss Harriet. Thank you very much,” the griffon nodded, “Now, I believe your reimbursement is in order.”

“Uhh, what for?”

“Provided information and… let’s say silence,” the griffon’s stare was deadly serious when he pulled out several bills from a different pocket, and shoved them into Harriet’s backpack, “This should cover train fare to Windy, non-standard treatment in Griffonstone hospital, and something extra. Thank you very much, miss Harriet,” he patted the Separated silently sitting there, “And you as well,” he gave one bill to the creature who sniffed it, then pocketed it, “Do you need supplies?”

To her surprise, the question was aimed at the Separated.

“Bandages. Desinfect.”

“I’ll take care of that if you come with me,” the griffon stood up and turned to leave.

“Wait, who are you?” Harriet had to ask. She felt the mysterious griffon knew far more than he let on.

“I am just a humble servant of the Griffon Empire, miss Harriet, that’s all. Now I have a brothel to visit. Sadly, purely for business.”

“Wait, the Guild one? Can you… umm, if you see a grey minotaur there… can you tell him that I said thank you?” she blushed, pulling the blanket all the way up to her muzzle.

One last smile, and then the strange griffon was gone.

“What did I get myself into?”

The Separated licked her nose, leaving a strangely warm trail, and left her alone. She couldn’t see it, but the scales on her muzzle were now significantly darker than when she’d left Windy, and when she closed her eyes, all she saw was the minotaur from the brothel in all his glory, dancing in front of her face, completely naked.

For a moment, she forgot everything, and surrendered to a good memory. She deserved it.

***

New time, new place, same result.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t help you.”

As stated before, old dragons were usually evil or pretty chill, because of the ability to devour or incinerate the petty annoyances in their life. Harriet was neither old, nor full dragon, and the unicorn doctor stating that he had no idea what to do about her scales not growing back made her eye twitch.

“But you’re a pony hospital,” Harriet’s claws scored shallow scratches into the floor, “A doctor at Wyrmlure hospital said you could fix me.”

The unicorn put down his notepad, and looked up into her eyes.

“As a pony, you are mostly alright. Bruises, yes. Setting bones on your muzzle, yes. Infection or sepsis, no. If you want an expert on scales, I’d send you to the Dragon Lands, but I’m getting the feeling that you wouldn’t even entertain the idea. Anyway, dragon doctors are more likely to eat you than to heal you. Look, I don’t know what the membranes on your legs mean,” the doctor referred to the fact that by now the flayed parts of Harriet’s legs were covered by a thin, dark, see-through film, “but I know who might, and this time it’s not far.”

Are you SURE this time?!

On the outside, Harriet kept her cool, though, despite moaning internally at the mention of more travel. Not that she didn’t like seeing new places, but the threat of her legs possibly falling off any minute now kind of put a damper on things.

“Who?”

“The Order of the Silver Sun. They’re based in Manehattan, just a short ferry ride across the ocean.”

Weird, he’s saying it as if I should know who they are.

“Are they… a hospital too?”

The doctor shook his head, his horn glowing as a floating bandage wrapped itself around Harriet's hind leg and then the others, signalling the clinical examination was over.

“They’re an organization mainly training soldiers, bodyguards, and nobility in combat. Plus, they help fight against unnatural forces and weird monsters. If someone knows how to deal with possible sickness afflicting an unusual creature such as you, it’s them. We sometimes get the results of their expeditions here, mainly those wounded who wouldn’t survive the ferry ride, give them basic treatment, and then send them to Manehattan.”

Harriet sighed, resigned.

“A ferry ride, you say?”

The doctor gave her a smile of sympathy.

“As I said, it’s not far.”

Still surprised that her emergency check up was free, Harriet left the equine department of the Griffonstone hospital- a Griffonstone hospital, she had to correct herself. There were three more as she had learned from the information kiosk at the train station.

Griffonstone was by far the largest city Harriet had ever visited. Thankfully, by now she was getting used to the miracles of technology and architecture not to look even more out of place than a heavily bandaged dragonpony already did. Still, the fact that Griffonstone was so vast that walking through it could take days, and that because of it griffons used fast mechanical contraptions called ‘trams’ capable of transporting dozens at the same time to get around was overwhelming. Flying was, of course, another option for those with wings, but since Griffonstone was full of earthponies and unicorns, as Harriet had noticed immediately after arriving, the quick means of travel made sense.

Once again, she had to thank the tourists visiting this place for the existence of many information stands, maps at each train station, and… the combination of pony and griffon snacks she could buy on almost every corner. How there were so many food stores, bars, restaurants so close to each other without some going out of business was beyond her. Munching on a chicken, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, she worked her way to the nearest tram station. After checking that her tram ticket would still be valid for nearly an hour, she waited for the correctly numbered one, hungrily devouring her snack.

Some twenty minutes later, she was standing at one of many piers in Griffonstone harbor, staring in stunned amazement.

So… much… blue. It’s like a desert… but made of water.

The salty air stung in her nose, the setting sun reflecting off of the sea surface blinded her, and yet she simply stood there, grinning like a moron. This was a memory she knew she would treasure for years to come. There was nothing like that in her part of the Empire, and completely overwhelmed Harriet leaned down from the low pier, and poked the rather warm water.

Bad idea.

“OW?!” she yelped, her foreleg now burning and stinging at the same time, “Ow ow ow ow ow!” she tried to shake the pain away.

Alright, the sea was beautiful, but also mad at her. That, or maybe there was something weird in the water which didn’t agree with her wounds. The tap water in the hospital hadn’t done anything like this. It felt… it felt similar to when the doctors had cleaned her legs with disinfectant. Was the sea healthy?

Considering the new spike of pain with her every step, more experiments were out of the question, so she treaded lightly, looking for yet another information board. She’d have to reapply the wet bandage later, because walking like this was turning out to be quite the ordeal.

Limping away from the empty pier, she found a queue of ponies and griffons patiently, in some cases, waiting to be allowed to board a ferry. She poked one of two ponies seemingly responsible for letting the passengers in line onboard, a brown, chubby earthpony stallion, who paled when he faced her, and had to look up.

“Umm, hello, can I ask you something?” Harriet tried really hard not to look imposing, but with her size and muscles, it was difficult.

“Y-yes, miss?”

“Does this ferry go to Equestria, and do I need to buy a ticket somewhere first?”

“I-Is that all, hahaha...” the pony visibly relaxed, and pointed Harriet towards a large, single-story building or warehouse she’d need, “You can buy a ticket there, but we’re fully booked,” he checked some electronic pad showing names and numbers on screen, “Yep, no cancellations. Buuut… if you don’t mind staying outside on the observation deck, then it’s a free trip. It’s uncomfortable fourteen hours, though, and it can rain. Pegasi can’t clear the sky this far over the ocean.”

Hahaaa! Weather? Weather would never defeat Harriet! Especially now that she’d come so far.

“I don’t mind. Thank you very much,” she turned away to walk to the end of the line, but the pony stopped her.

“The ferry guards check tickets inside from time to time, no reason to wait here if you haven’t booked a cabin,” with a nod to his colleague, he let Harriet on a metal set of stairs leading inside the humongous boat clearly made to transport massive amounts of goods and some passengers.

Thankfully, the narrow hallways where Harriet always had to squeeze against a wall to let someone walk by were full of maps and guiding arrows, so that even someone as new to everything like she was could easily get up multiple sets of stairs, and finally lay her hooves and talons on the observation deck. With a growing smile, she rushed towards the front, and looked over the railings.

She was so high up! The boat was even bigger than it looked.

“Eeeeeee!”

Ponies were milling around, ignoring her excited squeeing, the sea was blue and still sparkling, the setting sun looked like a distant wheel of cheese sinking into the ocean, and the air stung her nose, but in a good way.

Harriet’s wonder gradually faded, and she realized she had work to do. Finding a free spot on one of many benches littering the deck, which quickly cleared out even further in her presence, she carefully changed her soaked bandage.

Equestria was close, and they would know how to restore her scales. Surely.

Comments

[Nameless Narrator]

9234450
Woow, I completely missed that. Pun intended,
Fixed, thanks.
And the reason is simple, there's like negative six people reading it.

[LordNobady]

9234569
I disagree. it is negative seven now.

[Nameless Narrator]

9428641
One day, we might reach the fabled heights of two and a half reader.
9428468
Flow doesn't use true death. What he actually does is very different from draining magic.