Full Lance & The Holy Roman Empire

by Merallakos

Messenger

It was foggy, wet and cold. Intermittent flakes of snow still drifted down into the bubble of vision afforded in the castle courtyard. The snow-fog eddied around a congregation of familiar ponies in heavy cloaks. Many members of the Tolling's Guard were making their way to the gates of the Castle, leaving for their homes and duties.

Full Lance and Thistle were settled on the broad, stone steps From the Antechamber. Behind loomed the Keep's vestibule. It sat above the grassy-snowy courtyard. A couple ponies from the Tolling's guard were still flowing out and around it, those who recognized Full Lance gave him a wave, or a hit on the shoulder along with a passing remark.

Eventually the trail of ponies thinned into the fog, leaving Full Lance and Thistle (and a sentry) alone on the steps. Thistle's cloak was a little large, and he'd managed to fold the excess into a modest pad beneath him. Thistle was quite pleased to not be so exposed to the elements. He wondered if Full Lance was cold.

Full Lance wasn't yet, but he missed the twin furnaces in the antechamber. He was considering whether his pride would allow him to recall the decision to wait outside... No.

"So," Thistle said, looking at a piece of paper. "You decided to help ponies with farming."

"Yes," Full Lance had figured it might be a good way to ease back into his military tenure. He hadn't fully considered the ramifications, but it seemed non-intensive, productive and helpful. Perhaps he would even make more friends amongst the local lords.

Thistle let out a small breath, visible in the chilly dawn. He tossed back the paper, an outline of the quest.

Full Lance said, "Did you want to help take ponies into Duke Belle's military service?"

"Why are you bringing me into this?" Thistle jabbed, then held a brown hoof at Full Lance's face. "It's your duty."

Full Lance forced Thistle's hoof back to the stone. "I was thinking this would be a great opportunity for you to learn how to be more... Squire-ly."

"Hmm," Thistle nodded, nodding the way one does when one's question isn't fully answered. "Hmmmm."

"Hmmm," Full lance hmm'd, hmming the way one hmmm's when one is not sure what is going on in the other's mind.

"Hmmm," said the nearby guard emphatically.

"Hmm," Thistle returned, recognizing the guard.

"Hm?" Full Lance raised his eyebrows, not recognizing the guard.

"Uh-- Hmmmm--" the guard pressed his lips into a thin line, recognizing that he was being scrutanized.

"Hmm," Thistle and Full lance hmm'd suspiciously.

"E'hem," the guard cleared his throat, pointedly returning to surveying the courtyard.

"Say, wasn't your name, like, Bear, or something?" Thistle asked.

"Berengar," The guard said. "It ryhmes with... 'vinegar.'"

Thistle chose to redirect his efforts at conversation back at Full Lance. "You keep implying that I'm going to be coming with you."

"You are, Thistle," Full Lance said simply.

"But," Thistle hesitated, "Why?

This gave Full Lance a pause. It had never occurred to him that Thistle needed a reason to go, he had simply had a gut instinct that Thistle would go. But Thistle expected him to have a reason... "Well, you are my squire, it is your duty to attend me."

"Actually," said Berengar, "Wouldn't Thistle be your page?"

"What?" Full Lance asked.

"Well, The first rank one of knightly birth one attains is page, once they're seven. Then they become a squire, around fifteen. After that they can be knighted."

"Really?" Full Lance asked. "By who's decree?"

"Uh, my cousin, Gebinus, told me. I-- I don't know who came up with it though? I think it's just part of Chivalry?"

Full Lance nodded. "Thistle?"

"'Page' sounds neat." Thistle said.

Full Lance thought. If it was indeed part of chivalry that a child only ascends to squiredom at fifteen, then he should change Thistle's title to page. But on the other hoof, he'd spoken with Sweetie Bell about Thistle, and she had not objected to the title. Full Lance doubted that there was much rigidity on this topic, and with the Duke's blessing it should be fine. Full Lance seriously doubted that anypony had written a book on this subject or anything. Worst case scenario, he could just say he promoted Thistle early. Also, he was attached to the term 'squire.'

"I think I 'squire' will do for now," Full Lance said.

"Okay," Berengar said. "Are you guys waiting for someone?"

"No," Full Lance said. "We just enjoy being cold."

"We're waiting for Aleseta," Thistle said. "The Duke said that we should go together with her."

"Oh," Berengar thought. "It might take a while. She told me it would be a while before she left."

"Huh," Full Lance shivered.

Just then, Ivan, the enormous white stallion that he was, approached.

"Full Lance!" Ivan said, catching Full Lance in a hug. "So good to see again again! We've hardly talked!"

"It's good to see you too," Full Lance said. "I assume, you've been doing well?"

"Yes, yes! It is okay. " Ivan released Full Lance, giving him a friendly hit on the shoulder, "But what of you?"

"Uhm," Full Lance looked around, "Have you met Thistle?" He backed up a step, gesturing to the nested Thistle.

"Oh hoh," Ivan smiled broadly, "did you and that frightening mint mare have a child?!"

"What?!" Full Lance shook his head vigorously, catching snowflakes with his muzzle. "I most certainly did not!"

Ivan smirked, "I was sure there was a mutual attraction between you two."

"I appreciated the way she commanded authority," Full Lance stated. Even if Full Lance had had a child, it'd hadn't been more than four years since he met Minty.

"Ah, well, maybe some other mare, then?"

Thistle frowned up at Ivan. "Do we even look alike?" his breath steamed.

"Hmm," Ivan recouped, looking between Thistle and Full Lance. "Sometimes children only look like one parent. I look most like my mother. You may notice, I am very pretty."

Thistle's eyebrow twitched, but he did not laugh, an odd frown coming upon his face.

"This curvaceous figure," Ivan batted his eyelashes, gesturing to his cloaked form.

"Dazzling eyes," Full Lance added.

"Yes, yes, that's rright." Ivan smiled. "Even the barbaric Ballast would admit to my beauty."

Thistle's whole face was twitching, but he could not seem to pull his eyes away--some kind of deep, guttural call was manifesting--

"Enough of that!" Bernard suddenly walked between Ivan and Full Lance--a hoof landed on Full Lance's withers before he had time to react.

Last night's storm had left a blanket of snow across the courtyard which declared winter's arrival. The blades of still green grasses poking from beneath the snow said that this was not quite true.

The supposed arrival of winter struck up moistly on Full Lance's fetlocks as he stumbled off the stairs. At the rate that ponies were hitting him on the shoulder today, he thought that it really would break this time. He shook his head, scowling up at Bernard.

Bernard smiled. A middle aged, wicked smile. "...Full Lance." He picked down the wet steps, a full confrontation.

Full Lance felt his heart rate rise, his body readying for a fight, but he schooled himself, relaxing his eyes and jaw. Waiting for Bernard to make the first move.

Bernard growled, "I think you realize I'm a little upset." His eyes drilled into Full Lance's shoulder, then glared back up, "It's been a couple years..."

Full Lance exhaled through his nostrils, feeling Bernard was just waiting for an excuse to hit him. The cold was soaking into his hooves, the kind of feeling when your teeth get too cold.

"You don't like to do the talking." Bernard grunted, "...I was surprised when you thought lying would be a good way to get out of your sworn service. I was a little too..." Bernard gestured with his hoof, maybe meaning something like "dumb." "And I didn't realize there was any number of simpler, less convoluted ways for you to have gotten what you wanted."

Full Lance looked down at the ground, his cheeks stung.

Bernard sighed. "And I never really felt like I impressed upon you how awkward it was to keep people out of that tent. And it was worse to talk to Belle for you. What were we, scared? Why are you so stupid?" Bernard prodded a hoof into Full Lance's shoulder. "I have real regret. Embarrassment. And now? The real story will spread."

Full Lance looked at at Bernard shamefully, he felt very silly. Sweetie Bell had even admitted that she had thought of him like an older sister, which probably meant that Full Lance had descended levels of maturity to pull off his stupid plan. Not to mention he'd barely thought of what Bernard (or anypony else) would think. It was surprising to know. Now Bernard would be outed for upholding Full Lance's phony injury, and would probably look stupid with Full Lance. It was not what Full Lance wanted, it hurt to think about. It was a blunder. "I'm sorry."

"Say that again?"

"I have to apologize," Full Lance stated, looking into Bernard's eyes. "I wasn't thinking clearly, I made a stinky decision. Sorry."

"Your cheeks are red. From the cold." Bernard observed, then he cleared his throat and turned around. "Well I've been waiting for this for a long time... Sorry," he shot one eye of glare at Full Lance, "isn't going to cut it."

Even from the distance, Full Lance heard Thistle take a hissing breath, he was pretty sure he saw somepony rubbing their hooves in anticipation. Heads turned to observe the moment. This moment. Ivan tensed up.

Bernard flicked one heavy hoof in a circle, then turned and slammed it into Full Lance.

"PHUHu-'" his hooves slipped on the snow and grass--impact! The next thing Full Lance knew was the ground beneath his sides. His vision swam with prickles retinal light and snow, his body felt strange, and he couldn't breath. For a couple moments he floundered like a fish out of water, not able to inhale for an eternity, the absence of air--

"HuuuuuHGH!" Full Lance gasped. He breathed coldly on his side. Rage filled him.

Bernard was standing above him.

For a moment, Full Lance wanted to pull Bernard's head off his neck, the skin off his face and crush the skull into the ground but...

Bernard was holding out a hoof... The fog parted. Full Lance remembered he was chivalrous, and Bernard had been his friend. He was reaching up when he saw Thistle galloping...

Straight for Bernard. From behind, Thistle popped off the ground, chunks of snow trailing behind him. He landed on Bernard's spine. His back hooves scampered up Bernard's haunch and he lifted himself upright for a mighty two hooved blow--! and promptly lost his balance, leaving muddy trails on Bernard's tunic. He landed cantering in the snow, but he quickly flipped around, baring his teeth at Bernard.

Full Lance took a breath, he noticed Ivan ready himself to intervene.

Thistle got a full view of Bernards face: lines of anger on his muzzle, eyes taught with rage, but it drained so quickly it might not have been there at all. Even still, in that moment, Thistle had filled with a pure horror. He took a step back.

Bernard turned back to Full Lance.

Full Lance took Bernard's hoof this time. He was frazzled and a little tense, but he almost felt refreshed. Almost. He was glad that Bernard had confronted him sooner rather than later. Still...

"Are you going to hit me again?"

Bernard chuckled, "I think we're even now."

"I still feel bad," Full Lance said. "Is there..."

Bernard shook his head, "Honestly the whole shoulder thing has always been pretense anyways."

"Ah... Well. That hurt." Full Lance rubbed his shoulder.

"Payback, my friend," Ivan chimed in.

Full Lance looked around, wondering where Thistle had ended up. Various ponies busied about the courtyard, a few tended and patrolled the walls. But, Full Lance did not spot him.

"Scheiße," came a gruff voice. "What I miss?"

Full Lance turned to find Ballast approaching from the antechamber, he also saw a small cloaked form near the stairs. Ballast walked up next to Ivan.

"Full Lance has served his penance," Bernard summarized.

"Vengance," Ivan elaborated.

"Huh," Ballast grunted, "Well do you feel any better, Berny?"

Bernard shook his head. "It feels sillier than ever."

Ivan laughed, "It was certainly interesting to watch!"

"He's gotten better at apologizing though," Bernard gave a nod, "Thanks for apologizing."

Full Lance excused himself, needing to attend to Thistle. Thistle had moved back to the original spot on the stiars, below the black maned Berengar. He was sitting hunched in his cloak, digging at the snow. As Full Lance approached, the guard waved awkwardly.

"Hello," Full Lance said to Rhymes with 'Vinegar.'

"Hi," Berengar said. "Uh," he muttered, then tried to go back to surveying the courtyard.

"... Thistle," Full Lance looked down the colt. The cold seemed to draw out the moments.

"Master..." Thistle responded.

Full Lance shook out his cloak and sat down.

"I want to wait inside," he said.

Thistle didn't respond.

Full Lance said, "I saw you attack Bernard."

Thistle said, "He's scary."

"Still..."

Thistle frowned.

"Are you doing okay?" Full Lance asked.

"I'm not sure I like your friends."

Full Lance was about to say something, then stopped. His gaze dropped, eyes flicking contemplatively... "Look Thistle," he said, "maybe you can't always approach somepony with calm words and courtly appeals, but you should at least make an effort not to attack them."

"What about when they attack you?" Thistle pointed out.

"He did not hit you--" Full Lance shook his head. "Look, even if I, persay, did really appreciate that you tried to protect me, if Bernard wanted to... He's a much larger pony."

Thistle pursed his lips. Full Lance would've seen the fear in Thistle's eyes, had he looked.

Instead, Full Lance thought aloud, "I have neglected teaching you anything in the art of combat. You do not have much experience outside of the manor, so perhaps I should allow you some leeway while you learn."

"How would teaching me to fight teach me chivalry?" Thistle asked.

"It will," Full Lance said. "I'll have more time to explain on our mission."

"You're really dragging me into this?"

"Well, you won't get any lectures from Minty while we're gone."

"Master, you lecture me more often than Primrose did."

"Surely not," Full Lance objected.

"Mmmm?~" Berengar mmm'd skeptically.

"You know what?" Full Lance stood up, "It's cold out here, let's leave."

"Yes," came a mare's voice, "I couldn't agree more!"

"Schhe-aade!" Berengar exclaimed, spinning behind Full Lance and and pulling out a dagger.

Full Lance turned his head to the confrontation.

"Hah!" accused the mare--Full Lance realized she was the mare who'd fed thistle last night, "Where is your supposed honor when you are busy paying attention to other ponies' conversations instead of you job!"

"It-- I--" Berengar stuttered, recovering from having almost slipped on the slippery steps, "you surprised me!" He blushed and put away his dagger.

Aleseta laughed.

Full Lance had heard a bit about Aleseta last night from Sweetie Bell. She seemed to trust the grey mare with important messages. Though looking at her now, the thought somehow occurred to him that maybe she was a spy.

"Full Lance," said the mare, "we meet again,"

Full Lance wiped some dripping snot from his nose, then cleared his throat. "Good morning. Are you prepared to travel?"

"Yes sir!" Aleseta patted the saddle bags beneath her cloak. With a serious look, "Are you? You look cold."

Full Lance was shivering a little, but from experience he knew he'd warm up once he started pulling the cart. Not to mention that it would probably get warmer once the sun had truly risen. Of course then it would be muddy, but that was another problem. "I am, cold but we should get going. I just need to get my wagon."

"Very well," Aleseta said.

"Well." Full Lance went to retrieve his wagon from the stables.

Back on the steps,

"You must truly leave?" Berengar asked.

"It's my job," Aleseta confirmed.

"This is goodbye," Berengar frowned, ardent not to show any emotion.

Aleseta restrained a laugh, "We'll talk again."

"Goodbye," Berengar said.

"Bye," Aleseta said, beginning to trot towards Full Lance.

"Bye!" Thistle joined Aleseta, waving at Berengar.

Down by the gates, Full Lance was waiting in his yolk.

"Let's go," Aleseta prompted.

"Yes!" Full Lance agreed. "Before we go," He looked at Thistle, "is there anything you need?"

"Uhhh," Thistle frowned, "No." Then he thought. "Actually, my cloak is kinda big."

Full Lance fussed with Thistle's cloak until it seemed like less of a tripping hazard, and with that they started back off towards the Manor. Full Lance spared one glance back at the towering keep, then the courtyard. Ivan caught sight of him and waved, Full Lance waved back, but his view was quickly consumed by the hill.

---

Aleseta was not much for conversation. She had spared a few passing remarks and offered to lead the party out of the city, but otherwise she seemed to have left her impressive jocularity behind.

Full Lance spent most of the trot through the city being distracted by every instance of stone joinery, colorful building or over-passing archway. Indeed, they passed by the small, snow blanketed cathedral to the west side of the Market, and Full Lance remarked he could've spent the rest of the day staring at it. But the clergy were filing about, and Full Lance was not wont to have his offer taken up by them. The as they progessed, the group passed slush covered gardens, flower boxes, cruck homes and the like. They cleared the outer buildings and wall-in-progress just as the church bells rung Terce, or mid morning.

Out on the slowly warming road, surrounded by wet grey and autumn hills, Full Lance shook his head, "I can't believe it."

"What?" asked Thistle.

"It's only been a day since this this all started."

"Since the hay thing?" Thistle clarified.

Full Lanced nodded, "It feels like it's been much longer."

"Sweetie Bell said you've been busy," Aleseta remarked.

Their hoofsteps sounded with ricketing of the cart over the softening dirt path.

"Sometimes life is relentless," Aleseta remarked. "I've been told you must pray to God, and he will have mercy."

"And if not," Full Lance said, "it is God's will that you are battered. Sometimes until death."

Thistle looked between the two adults. "You both spend too much time with Sweetie Bell."

Aleseta's eyes were distant, searching, but there was lilting humor on her tongue. "We are heretical scum."

---

The group passed by fiefs, forests and other ponies. It was an uneventful trip, except for an encounter with mysterious figures in the woods. Thistle caught sight of them first. Aleseta drew a sword though, and they disappeared back into trees. Full Lance and Thistle learned that Aleseta knew of Equestria, and that each pony the Cutie Mark Crusaders told was required to swear an oath of secrecy. The token of this oath was a stone talisman etched with the images of a sun and moon.

Eventually, around midday, they passed by the manor of Sir James III. Thistle and Aleseta decided to run ahead to the Full Lance's manor. Full Lance was reflecting on the copious amounts of mud on his hooves and borrowed cloak, when realized he didn't know just where it was that Aleseta was headed to after this. He was about to take off to catch up, when he noticed a familiar pony on the road.