Legion

by Thule117

False Idols

"Some people would rather take a bullet, than take a compliment."

-D'nurian philosopher.

---

Derran wove his way through the hustle and bustle of the Canterlot market crowd with ease. At every turn, ponies would step aside and give a bow or polite greeting. A tip of the hat here, an inclined head there, and nearly always punctuated with that hated greeting of: 'my Lord'. Derran of course, returned the bows and polite greetings with a gentle smile and a friendly wave, but inside, a smoldering ember of anger burned in his chest. He loved Equestria and its ponies with every facet of his heart and soul. He loved that they were so accepting of him, and graciously treated him as one of their own. But he hated their deference to him. The kowtowing and formality, the awe, and acting as if he was owed respect, he despised it.

At first it hadn't bothered him, and he did an excellent job of hiding it when it did. However, as time wore on, it had become harder and harder for Derran to ignore his true feelings, doubly so when not in the presence of his beloveds. Now, it was as if there was a burning canker on his heart, one that stung ever more acutely with every bent neck and wide eyed stare. It was at least less than the fanfare given to Celestia and Luna, but it was still far in excess of a friendly nod or wave. And since his earlier bout of self reflection on the plaza bench earlier, Derran found his patience with it all, running far thinner than ever before. At this moment, all Derran wanted to do was finish his shopping, check in with Celestia, and then spend the rest of the day completing paperwork, far out of sight and mind of anypony. With that desire firmly in mind, Derran hurried to his destination.

The Canterlot market district was a place of color and wonder. Composed of a massively oversized thoroughfare with no sidewalks, it was best described as: a perfectly organized mess. Lined with colorful shops, and filled with rows of freestanding produce stands and kiosks. The best food and ingredients from across Equestria and beyond could be found here. Cherries from Dodge Junction, lettuce from Mustangia, Apples from Appleoosa, and many more. There were stands featuring exotic spices from Saddle Arabia and Yakyakistan, flowers from the Changeling Kingdom, and even grains and breads from Griffonstone, which had recently rediscovered its culinary roots, thanks to its new, if somewhat reluctant, queen; Gilda the First. The shop signs and stand awnings were all done in vibrant colors, designed to catch the eyes of potential customers, and the air was filled with the sound of salescreatures calling out advertisements for their wares. The entire market was a gorgeous riot of colors and sounds, as well as mouthwatering smells of fresh baked bread, pastries, and spices. Which made it all the more surprising when Derran headed to a small shop, built slightly back from the street, between two hulking structures of yellow stucco. The unobtrusive building was labeled with a rather drab sign, proclaiming it: 'The Feed Cart' in blocky, faded red lettering.

Derran ducked his head slightly as he entered the shop, a bell attached to the door announcing his arrival with an energetic ring. The Feed Cart was a fair bit smaller than most of the shops in the market district, and in truth, had little in the way of produce or staples in it. Instead, the store mostly feature large shelves displaying bags and boxes of energy bars, granola, and odd, but surprisingly tasty, candies, made out of things like seaweed or ginger. There were also various exotic teas and sodas, as well as a selection of spiced juices in glass bottles. All in all, it was a store that catered more to connoisseurs and health nuts, than the average pony shopping for groceries, but it also provided a number of useful services for those in the know.

"Well stars above, if it ain't the king of the world." Came a warm voice, no less friendly for its teasing tone. "How's it going Mr. Grandel?" From behind a counter placed in front of the back wall of the store, the proprietor, Rosy Saltfield, greeted Derran with a wide smile. With a bone white mane and slate gray coat and wings, Rosy could almost have passed for a ghost, if not for her brilliant fuchsia eyes, and cutie mark featuring a small colorful spice rack.

"It goes well enough I suppose Lady Saltfield, thank you for asking. Anything extraordinary happen since we last spoke?" The nearly monochrome pegusus just snorted.

"Not unless you count selling candy to some fillies, and giving directions to some lost Fillydelphia tourists, as newsworthy." She declared, in a slightly annoyed tone. Derran simply chuckled. Rosy often complained of how boring minding the shop was. Often declaring she would run away from it in a heartbeat, if not for the fact that the store was all she had left of her family. Both her parents having passed away some years ago due to a rare illness.

"I suppose I wouldn't." Derran replied. Rosy let out a frustrated sigh.

"Auuugghh!! I wish I could just ditch this place and have an adventure for once!" She declared. "Or at least that something exciting would happen!" Derran just shook his head.

"Am I to assume then, that an unleashed spirit of chaos, a changeling invasion, and an attack by a magic devouring megalomaniacal centaur, do not qualify as 'something exciting'?" He inquired with a smile and a raised eyebrow. Rosy just sighed even harder.

"Would you believe I was out of town on business all three times?! And I never saw any of what happened six months ago because I was minding the shop! It was over before I even got there! Talk about rotten luck!" Derran frowned, as he shook his head.

"With respect my Lady, in my experience, excitement of that kind, is vastly overrated." Rosy, recalling what she knew of Derran's life, adopted an apologetic tone.

"I'm sorry, I know you're right. . . I don't really want anything life threatening to happen. Just something new and interesting to spice things up. Ya know?" Derran nodded.

"I may be over a millennia old, but I still recall what it was like to be young." He replied sympathetically. Rosy just chuckled.

"Said the immortal stallion who doesn't look a day over twenty five." Derran couldn't help but smile at that, as Rosy affected a more businesslike air. "Anyway, I managed to track down all the spices and other things on your list. I was actually surprised, not many ponies even know the difference between sweet paprika and hot paprika." Derran gave a soft laugh.

"My Ladies have become mildly obsessed with a dish called 'paprika hendl', from my world. The original recipe called for chicken, but I substituted with tempeh and unripened jackfruit. Hot paprika is a must for the dish to work." Rosy just smiled at that, before going behind the counter and pulling up a pair of large cloth grocery bags. One of the primary reasons Derran shopped here was that, for a small fee, and if she took a liking to you, Rosy could get absolutely everything anycreature needed for any meal, no matter how obscure or difficult to locate, in less than an hour or two. Nopony in Canterlot knew the market like she did, nor was as good at finding the best bargains. For as much as she claimed to loathe her job, she was damned good at it.

"Well, they're in the bags with the rest." She declared matter-a-factly. "That'll be fifteen bits for everything." Derran nodded, as he counted out seventeen bits.

"For allowing me to leave the rest of my shopping here, while I picked up my order from Canterlot Carousel." He explained, holding up the bag he'd come in with as he handed over the bits. Rosy just shook her head.

"I keep telling you, I don't charge for that. You keep paying ponies what they haven't earned, and you'll break the royal treasury." Derran just laughed.

"If you feel that strongly about it, you could always refuse to take them." He offered with a wry grin, that Rosy returned as she took the money.

"Hey, I already told you you didn't have too, my conscience is clear." Derran just nodded as he took the bags.

"A fair enough point I suppose. Have a lovely day Lady Saltfield." Rosy nodded, as Derran headed for the door.

"You too Mr. Grandel." She replied, as Derran headed back out onto the streets of Canterlot.

However, the instant he was outside, all of his previous thoughts on how the ponies saw him returned. Heralded by the sensation of dozens of pairs of eyes fixing on him before the door had even shut behind him. All things being equal, Derran's interaction with the good lady Saltfield had marginally improved his mood, and not just because she was the only friend he had in all of Canterlot, besides the princesses, who didn't address him as: 'my Lord'. Still, like a summer cold, his choler was oddly persistent, and had not left him completely. Were it not for the seraphic magic that rendered him nothing short of indefatigable, Derran suspected he'd be quite exhausted at this point. Still, in the end, there was little to be done, save grin and bear it.

Sighing, Derran turned to head back to the castle. Perhaps after returning, he'd try to steal lady Celestia away from her duties for a bit? The court schedule for the day was comparatively light, mostly just minor budgetary concerns and a few meetings that could easily be postponed. He was quite certain his love wouldn't object to spending a few hours in a hidden corner of the royal garden, drinking tea, stealing kisses, and dosing in each other's arms and/or hooves. If there was one thing that could banish Derran's dark thoughts, it was spending quality time with the ponies he loved. Derran smiled at the thought, the knot of anger in his chest already beginning to relax at the idea.

"LOOK OUT!!"

The shout of abject terror ripped Derran from his thoughts instantly. Dropping his bags without so much as a second thought, he ran forward by instinct alone. His head turned this way and that, attempting to discern the source of the cry, as more ponies started screaming.

Soundtrack: Black Betty by Spiderbait

"HE'S OUT OF CONTROL!!"

"EVERYPONY GET OUT OF THE WAY!!"

Beyond the cries of alarm and shouts to clear a path, Derran's finely tuned ears could make out an increasingly loud rattling sound, coming from one of the side streets leading into the market district. Jumping and dodging nimbly through the press of equines starting to flee the scene, Derran reached the center of the market, just in time to see a cart ladened with stacks of boxes and barrels, tear through a, now mercifully unoccupied, fruit stall. As smashed fruit and splintered wood were scattered across the street, Derran caught a glimpse of the terror stricken driver. Shouting and flailing his hooves, as he did his best to warn ponies out of the way.

Derran again moved without thinking, his body a blur as he took in the details of the cart, the world seeming to slow to a crawl as he did so. It was sturdy, likely made of oak, and showed little to no damage from plowing through the fruit stand. The barrels and boxes on the back were labeled as containing barley and apples, heavy items, but they had barely shifted, thanks to the expert lashings anchoring them to the back of the cart. The driver however, was unsecured, gripping his seat with one hoof in terror. The steering reins uselessly dragged in the dirt beneath the cart, while the driver frantically attempted to pull the obviously broken brake lever. Derran had his plan of attack before he'd run more than a few feet.

Hurtling through the market, Derran leapt through the supports of an abandoned vegetable stand. Tucking into a somersault to absorb the shock of his landing, before springing back to his feet without losing an inch of speed. Ponies and stalls flashed by him in streaks of color, as he ran between the rows of temporary wooden structures, weaving between pedestrians like the wind itself. As the cart crashed through another stall, this one covered with a brilliant red awning that promptly flew into the sky with a fluttering snap, Derran managed to get alongside it. Vaulting over a pile of cabbage filled boxes, as he shouted to the driver.

"TURN AROUND AND COVER THE BACK OF YOUR HEAD!!" He roared. The driver turned to glance at the biped running at his side, with a terrified expression that quite clearly was questioning his would-be rescuer's sanity. "JUST DO IT!!" Derran shouted, injecting a tone of authority born of years shouting orders in the heat of battle. "AND DO NOT HOLD ONTO THE CART! WHEN THE TIME COMES, LET YOURSELF GO!!" The driver, a brown coated and blond maned earth pony wearing a green vest, clearly didn't understand, but did as he was told. Now came the tricky part.

Putting on a burst of speed, Derran did a pirouetting dodge around a barrel of peaches as he ran ahead of the cart. Wincing, as he heard the cart in question smash through the same barrel he had just avoided, along with what was likely the stand beside it. The area was too crowded, he needed to find a. . . there! Up ahead was a place where the road was undergoing repairs, and a significant space nearly devoid of stalls, carts, or civilians, had been set up as a buffer between the area being worked on, and the rest of the market. And the out of control wagon was headed right for it. Unfortunately, there was one obstacle. A large sturdy cart, filled with fresh stacks of cobblestone. Derran did a few quick mental calculations, as he increased his speed still further. This was going to sting a bit, and the timing needed to be perfect, but it was still doable. With that thought in his head, Derran braced himself, as he ran, shoulder first, at full tilt into the cart of stone.

Derran impacted the forward wheel of the cart with enough force to shatter both it, and its twin on the other side. The forward axle snapping like a twig, as the cart pivoted away on its two remaining wheels. Not missing a beat, Derran slid to a halt on the dirt, flattened in preparation for the cobblestone to be laid down. His sandal clad feet threw up sprays of pebbles and dust, as his momentum bled away. Turning to face the oncoming cart, its driver crouched with his back to Derran, and his forehooves folded behind his head. Derran shot forward like a bullet from a rifle. Letting out a breath, Derran felt as if the world once again was slowed around him, as he rushed toward the cart.

This plan was extremely risky, and one wrong move would likely kill the driver. Derran banished the thought. In his mind, he suddenly saw Celestia, Luna, and Twilight's smiling faces, looking down upon him with love and trust in their eyes. In that moment, Derran felt his doubt vanish, his resolve becoming like tempered steel. Failure was an unacceptable outcome for a servant of the Seraphim. Therefore. . . it would not be permitted. With that thought firmly fixed in his mind, Derran jumped into the air.

Twisting his body, Derran struck the out of control cart feet first, facing upward, with his body perpendicular to the ground, and his knees bent ever so slightly. As his feet impacted the front of the cart, Derran tensed his legs as he bent them. Muscles like corded steel, compressed like living springs, absorbing as much of the cart's momentum as possible, before snapping taught. Pushing against the cart with all of his mystically enhanced might, the front of the wagon cracked, its inertia torn away in an instant, but it held together. With a juddering clatter, the cart rolled back the way it came, as Derran and the driver were sent hurtling through the air in the opposite direction. Reaching up in mid air, Derran wrapped his arms around the stallion above him, pulling him tight to his chest, an instant before they hit the ground. Letting out a faint grunt of discomfort, Derran crashed onto the graded earth. Sliding along the ground with the driver for nearly fifteen feet. Before crashing into a wall of stacked bags, containing the ground stone used to pour between the cobblestones after placement. The bags burst instantly from the bone shattering impact, in an explosion of gray dust.

The cart, now robbed of nearly all momentum, rattled to a stop against the wooden supports of an abandoned spice stand. A minute or two later, a crowd of ponies, their expressions of fearful concern, gathered around the thick cloud, marking where Derran and the cart driver had finally stopped. Murmurs of worry filled the air, with a few ponies shouting for somepony to call an ambulance. Then, as the dust began to settle, a series of hacking coughs were heard, as the driver stumbled out of the cloud, his brown coat and blond mane turned completely gray by the dust. Sitting down heavily on the unpaved road, he wiped the grime from his eyes with one hoof, as ponies crowded around him to see if he was alright.

"Wait! Where's the king?!" Asked a slightly frantic voice from the crowd, as the scream of a medical wagon's siren echoed in the distance. A murmur of worry rippled through the crowd. Then, as if in answer to their concern, a light breeze blew aside what was left of the rapidly settling dust, to reveal Derran Grandel rising to his feet. Covered in chalky powder from the burst bags of stone, and with the dust clouds swirling around him, he looked like a terrible phantom of myth, as he slowly rose to his full height amid the grayish miasma. Gasps of disbelief, turned almost instantly to sounds of awe, as Derran strode through the thinning dust, toward the seated stallion he had rescued.

"Were you injured?" He inquired, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that, between the powdered stone and several faintly bleeding cuts on his chin and cheek, he looked more beat up than the driver. The Driver, simply stared at Derran, with a wide eyed look of awed reverence.

"I thought. . . I thought I was dead!" He exclaimed, his voice a disbelieving whisper. "But then. . . you came. . . ." He trailed off as he prostrated himself before Derran. "Thank you my Lord! Thank you so much! I'm Radish Greens, and I'm forever in your debt!!" He declared, his tone filled with a worshipful zeal. "Long live the Uncrowned King!" Instantly, Derran's face went from an expression of concern, to one of disbelief and horror, as around him ponies cheered.

"That was amazing my Lord!!" Said one voice.

"Three cheers for our hero!" Shouted another.

"Long live the Uncrowned King!!" Echoed a third. As others took up the call.

"Long live the Uncrowned King! LONG LIVE THE UNCROWNED KING!! LONG LIVE THE-."

"ENOUGH!!" Derran's roar of rage was more than loud enough to immediately silence the crowd. Setting the ears of anycreature nearby ringing. "END THIS BLINDLY PLACED OBSEQUIOUSNESS AT ONCE!!" He thundered, instantly cowing the ponies surrounding him, as ears flattened against heads, and looks of joy became ones of terror. There was a lengthy pause, as Derran glared down at the crowd, his face twisted in a mix of disgust and anger. Then. . . a timid voice spoke up.

"We. . . we were just trying to say thank you." A random mare stated hesitantly, her voice fearful, but with a faint tone of hurt. Derran however, only seemed to grow angrier. As he fixed the young mare with a glare of pure venom.

"AND WOULD YOU THANK A HAMMER FOR BUILDING YOUR HOME?! PERHAPS A QUILL FOR WRITING A NOVEL?!! A FORK FOR PREPARING YOUR MEALS?!!!" He shouted, his vision edged with red, as his eyes flickered between blue and crimson. "I AM NOT A HERO!! I AM A TOOL! A WEAPON!! THAT I ACT INDEPENDENT OF THOSE WHO WIELD ME IS IRRELEVANT TO THE FACT THAT I AM BUT AN EXTENSION OF THEIR WILL!! IT WAS THE SERAPHIM WHO MADE ME!! IT IS THEY WHO COMMAND ME!! AND IT IS THEY ALONE TO WHOM YOU SHOULD OFFER PRAISE!!!" Derran's fury was such that he could barely think straight, his hands clenching and unclenching as though seeking to rend and tear. It was then, that his eyes fell on a small frightened filly, who looked vaguely familiar. Despite the child's clear terror, he still spoke up, in a trembling tone of confusion.

"We. . . we're sorry. But. . . you got us ice cream earlier. . . aren't we supposed to say thank you?" The little filly asked, clearly on the verge of tears. Instantly, all of the anger in Derran's heart turned to horrified shame. His fists falling open, as his arms dangled limply by his side. Even if he was right, even if he was speaking out for the ponies' own good, there was no excuse whatsoever for directing such an outburst at a child. Derran felt his heart turn to lead, as his wrathful rebuke became bitter ashes in his mouth.

"I. . . no, little one. . . you should always offer gratitude for a kindness bestowed. I simply. . . ." Here, Derran trailed off, as he looked at the confused, sad, and frightened faces around him. "No. . . I will not make excuses." He declared firmly, as he addressed the crowd with a tone of remorse. "Forgive me, my friends. Regardless of my reasons, my words just now, irrespective of their truth, were unworthy and disrespectful, tainted by misdirected and unearned malice." Here Derran bent forward in a sorrowful bow. "I offer my deepest apologies to you all." So saying, Derran raised his head and turned to look, with a sad, but grateful, smile, at the now faintly grinning filly. "And I must apologize in particular to you, young filly, I was honored to be able to make you and your class smile." Directing his gaze to the driver he had rescued, Derran once again inclined his head with a remorseful expression. "And to you Lord Greens. I am grateful to have been able to assist you." Straightening up, Derran once more addressed the crowd as a whole. "Whatever deeds and kindnesses I perform for you all, is not only because it is my sworn duty, but also because you are all my cherished friends and neighbors. I only ask you to remember, that I am only able to perform them, thanks to the grace of their divine majesties, the Seraphim." Here he bowed again. "Once again, I offer my heartfelt apologies, and vow to do better in the future." For a moment, there was silence, and then the ground shook, as the crowd of smiling ponies stamped their feet in applause.

Yet, even as he gratefully smiled and bowed, Derran could not help but feel, in the pits of his soul, that the apology he offered, was a mistake. . . .

Comments

[daniboyi]

well someone has some unresolved issues. How much would therapy for the doomguy cost?

[PinkDragonJr]

10868509
how much does a giant bouncy castle cost?

[Fatail]

10868509
That depends. What's the price of a pet rabbit these days?

[Bronze Inkwell]

Just imagine how Sunset (Reformed/Unreformed) or the Sirens would react to Derran. The Sirens would most likely meet a swift end, while Sunset, depending on if she is either Reformed or Unreformed, would either be congratulated on over coming her darkness, or scared straight.

[sykko]

10870830
I think I know a certain yellow pegasus who could help him with that, at no charge.

[Cyrus Colter]

"Some people would rather take a bullet, than take a compliment."

i feel called out.