Sol Invictus

by Reviewfilly

Tomorrow would end in a massacre...

Cold mist twinkled on the grass near the city gates as the Sun slowly began to descend beyond the horizon. The town was silent. Not a single of its inhabitants remained. The eerie quiet was only broken by the creaking of a few doors, left thrown open, as the wind rushed past them.

A small bird descended from the sky to peck at a few pieces of fruit left strewn around on the cobblestone road. Even it could feel that something was amiss. It rose its head to glance around. But seeing that the town remained silent, it continued to peck at the half-rotten apple, until it was chased away by the the wind carrying the stench of death from beyond the walls.

Suddenly the gate swung open and a group of six ponies dragged themselves in. Their bodies were coated in sweat mixed with dirt and blood, some their own, some their enemies’. One of them could not use his left front leg anymore and had to hop, posing as a grim mockery of a giddy foal. Another had one of their eyes covered by a rag, stained by dark brown blotches of blood. He bit down hard on his lip every once in a while and winced, fighting against the pain radiating through his head. The last of the band, an earth pony with a long scar on his face, turned and closed the gate with a grunt, then slid a massive log into the lock. The walls would give them respite, if only temporarily.

Their leader, a unicorn whose horn was chipped and cracked, lead them directly into the center of the town. They found themselves in a small round market, filled with haphazard shacks which once belonged to the traders of the city. Some stores still offered their wares to passersby, despite their owners being long gone. The unicorn turned to her comrades, her face as still as stone.

“At ease,” she grumbled and the rest of the band dropped their weapons and collapsed on the spot. It mattered little to them that they laid on cold stone, the opportunity to sleep was far too enticing. The leader merely sighed and hobbled to a nearby stand. She absentmindedly picked an apple from a nearby stand and bit into it, hardly even noticing the cloying taste of rot in her mouth. Once she finished the apple, she silently wiped her mouth and looked towards the center of the marketplace.

A small, circular, stone pedestal stood there. Compared to how roughly hewn the houses in the town were, its neat carving and smooth curves looked very out of place. Yet none would question its appearance after beholding the figure placed upon it.

It was an old statue, cast from copper, darkened by the numerous years of rain and frost it weathered since its creation. Yet despite the rigid material, the statue itself seemed almost alive. It depicted an alicorn risen to its hind legs, its front hooves kicking at some invisible enemy. Its face was of divine grace contorted into a wrathful scowl. The eyes, despite being the same cold metal, seemed to burn with ire. Its masterfully-crafted mane seemed to almost flow in the wind and one could almost count the feathers on its spread wings. Though its likeness had long passed away, the statue stood as a reminder of the unquestionable fate of any, who would rise against her former subjects. On its flank, half hidden by dirt and age, stood a golden emblem of the Sun.

The leader stared at the symbol for a few seconds then turned her eyes towards the face of the statue. She muttered a silent prayer before exhaustion overtook her and she too fell into a dreamless sleep. Duty would soon call her rapidly-dwindling company once more, but each battle seemed bleaker than the last. With her last conscious thought she wished for her foal’s safety, ignoring the futility of hoping they could reunite after the siege was over.

Along with most of the city, those who couldn’t or weren’t willing to fight retreated into the forests nearby, leaving only a few brave volunteers and the town’s tiny group of guards to fend against the invading horde. The volunteers were all dead and out of the guards, only they remained.

The enemy was relentless, but also patient. She never sent her full force against the ponies. No, she understood that while her army could crush them effortlessly, attrition would bring down upon them such crushing despair, that not even the mightiest armies could. Yet, as the weeks kept passing, the ponies stood their ground and she began to lose her restraint, sending more and more of her snarling beasts against the city’s destitute protectors. Fifteen left the city in the morning, it is by only a miracle that six managed to return.

On the other side of the hill that separated the city from the field that housed her camp, the enemy and her army slept soundly. Tomorrow’s end was clear for both sides. It will be a slaughter. There was no help coming. The city was surrounded and once its pitiful resistance was dealt with, they would gather the defenseless and gorge themselves upon their delicious anguish.

As she sunk deeper into her sleep, the leader suddenly found herself in a strange dream. She was standing where she was just minutes ago. Despite the darkness of the night, she could still see around herself. As she glanced around, she found herself surrounded not just by her company, but also the bodies of her fallen fighters. Her mind began racing.

Is this some sick tactic by the enemy? she thought to herself. Did she really sink so low as to hurl the bodies of these poor souls over the walls? Will this monster not even allow us one final night of peace?

She tried to scream for her comrades to rise and defend themselves against the imminent attack, yet she found no sound coming from her throat. As she grasped her neck in shock, the ground itself began trembling and she fell back on her haunches. An otherworldly pling could be heard, as the statue of the Sun princess lowered its hooves back to the pedestal. The muscles of its copper body rippled as it kicked with its hind legs, tearing them from the foundation. Its face remained the same scowl as it slowly surveyed the corpses around herself.

Without saying as much as a word, it began trotting towards the gate. With each step, its metal hooves clinged hollowly as they struck the stone pavement. The leader merely watched with silent awe. Even if she hadn’t lost her voice, she wouldn’t dare to disturb the statue with as much as a whisper.

As it began to leave the marketplace, the corpses of the fallen twitched one after the other. Ponies lacking ears, eyes, and even legs shuffled to their hooves and followed the avatar of their long-dead princess. The gate split apart with a loud crash as an invisible force tore it from its hinges. The macabre group slowly disappeared into the mist.

The leader remained on the ground far longer than she wanted to, frozen in fear. When she finally felt like she could move again, she attempted to rouse the others, but they were all soundly asleep. She couldn’t leave them there unprotected, so she drew her sword and faced the hole in the gate, until exhaustion slowly won over and she fell back into sleep.

---

The enemy’s camp was loud with buzzing as her soldiers slept their dreamless sleep. Only a single drone blinked blearily into the night, its turquoise eyes shining like diamonds in a coal pit. Having merely a single watcher was a foolish idea, but the enemy was certain in her superiority. As it was about to suppress a yawn, it noticed a little dot of light in the distance. It cocked its head to the side in confusion, not understanding the bizarre sight. Surely a spy wouldn’t bring a torch with themselves and an army wouldn’t just bring a single one.

As it leaned forwards to get a better look, its eyes suddenly went wide with fear. What appeared to be hardly more than a torchlight kept growing and growing until it could see a figure enveloped in flame. A massive, winged statue marched towards them in the darkness, coated in an ethereal fire that did not burn the grass under her hooves. Terror filled the drone’s heart as it scrambled to sound the alarm.

Soon the camp buzzed with twice the fervor as before. The enemy leapt from her tent and rushed to the front of her camp. As she stared into the field in front of her, she saw a sight she could not understand. The figure approaching her was vaguely reminiscent of her old nemesis, but the enemy knew that was impossible.

She made sure to snap her neck herself so many years ago.

Yet it kept marching towards her and, as the distance shrank, she suddenly noticed it wasn’t alone. Ghastly memories of former ponies shuffled along with it, brandishing chipped swords and broken polearms.

The enemy called forth her warriors and ordered them to attack. Yet before the first wave could even get to the terrifying procession, the statue merely flapped its wings and flame sprang forth, turning almost all of them into ash. The enemy could not believe her eyes.

“More!” she hissed towards her underlings and they took flight, unquestioning of their queen’s wisdom.

Soon the night was filled with the hollow clashing of weapons and desperate screams, as the remnants of the town’s former guardians effortlessly massacred the relentless black tide. Meanwhile the statue just kept marching forwards, immolating any who dared come close.

An unusual feeling crept up inside the enemy. One she forgot over the decades and mounting victories. She stared down at her jagged, hole-ridden hooves and saw that they were trembling. She was afraid. Yet she couldn’t run, not now when victory and starvation were both so close.

“All of you, move!” she commanded with a shaking voice and a thousand pairs of wings answered.

Drones could be replaced. This is merely a setback, she tried to reassure herself, but even she didn’t believe her own words as the scorching revenant destroyed another hundred of her most fierce warriors.

Undeterred by the onslaught, it finally reached the camp and stopped a mere meters from her. The enemy found herself face to face with the statue of the mare she murdered. Its frozen eyes bore deeply into her soul. The two stared at each other and the statue’s horn shone for a brief moment.

The enemy looked at her with confusion. She didn't feel anything happen to herself. Her relief, however, was short lived. Smoke began to fill her nostrils and the sounds of battle were drowned out by the crackling of fire. She spun around.

Behind her, the entire camp erupted in flames. Half-burned drones desperately scrambled to save the wailing larvae of the camp. Others merely collapsed into smouldering piles. A million cinders flew towards the sky before falling back as nothing more than gray ash. The air was filled with the noisome stench of burning chitin.

A tightness gripped the enemy’s chest as she turned back. She was surrounded by not only the statue, but also the dead. Their rotten coats were wet from the green blood of her brood. Hundreds of her own young laid around them, some cut down by blades, others claimed by the fire. Her trembling eyes darted back to the ponies, but they didn’t seem to move.

“Please. I needed this to survive,” she whispered. “My hive is starving.”

They all took a step towards her and she took one back.

“I must feed my children. You of all must understand what it is like to care for your subjects,” she continued to plead. Yet the statue’s face showed no compassion. It took another step forward and the enemy took another one backwards.

“We would... We would have died, if I didn’t attack.” Her voice broke mid-sentence.

As she took another step back, the enemy felt a scorching heat on her back. A burning tent stood in her way of escape. She quickly thought about flying away, but she knew she would be turned to ash if she tried. She was completely surrounded by the dead and the flames.

She glanced at her assailants in fearful anticipation. A few painfully slow seconds ticked by. Finally the statue took one final step forward and smashed its hoof into her face.

The enemy howled.

Her exoskeleton and the soft flesh below boiled from the incandescent copper. She screamed and threw herself to the ground in agony. She felt parts of her face slough off and one of her eyes melted in its socket. As she twisted and turned and laughed and wailed, the statue and its morbid entourage merely stepped back and, after staring at her for a second, slowly began to leave in silence. The enemy clawed at the ground in futility in front of the inferno that was once her camp. The long night echoed of screams and fire.

---

The leader gasped as she woke up. Dawn was just breaking. She looked around and saw that her team was still asleep. She would have reprimanded them on every other occasion, but knowing they were sleeping their last, she didn’t have the heart to do so.

The last night suddenly flashed into her mind and she quickly surveyed the marketplace once more. There was no sign of the dead. She glanced to the statue. It seemed to be steaming from the morning dew and its emblem was glistening in the Sun. She turned her head towards the gate. It stood in its place.

What a terrifying dream, she thought to herself.

With a grunt she stood up and finally roused the others. She gave the order and the gate was opened. As her band made their way up the hill to face the enemy for the last time, she stopped for a second and furrowed her brows. What was this odd smell the wind was carrying? Burning wood? And something more?

As the group reached the top of the hill, their eyes fell on a devastating scene. Smouldering remains of tents and charred corpses blackened the field as far as they could see. They trotted closer in disbelief. The Black Horde was gone. They were prepared to die, not to find something like this.

Amidst the dead a single figure stirred upon hearing the clopping of the company’s hooves. It was the enemy. The band recoiled upon the sight of her face, which was disfigured beyond recognition. She stared at the leader with a single, broken eye, begging for mercy.

“What happened to you?” the leader asked, her voice lacking the malice she expected to feel.

The enemy’s burnt lips parted and she quietly muttered two words, before she collapsed back to the ground again.

”Hail Celestia.”

Author's Note:

I wanted to try myself at speedwriting. This story was written in about an hour and a half, but I didn't measure it.

I was inspired by a local legend told in poem form, that recounts how the body of a long dead king reanimated when the town he rests in is attacked by an invading army. He proceeds to jump on a bronze horse statue and ride into battle, wielding a massive battle axe. He then mops the floor with the invaders so hard they surrender and switch sides, claiming it wasn't the defending army that cowed them so hard, but the spirit of a single great warrior. The body of the king is later found back in its crypt "warm and drenched in sweat." I tried to integrate most of these motifs into the story, just repurposed in a way that'd fit ponies more.

Comments

[Crescent Glaive]

I am speechless.... What an amazing read this was
*excited bat noises*

[Reviewfilly]

11144477
Thanks, I'm glad you liked it.

[tailsopony]

Very well done! I loved every bit of this.

[KingSombraTheTyrantRuler]

This was great!

[Etyco Filly]

Very interesting, really enjoyed the atmosphere all throughout. The concept is really cool as well.
I'm just a bit confused as to why Chryssie didn't try to fight the statue, but I'm willing to suspend my disbelief.

[Samey90]

“I must feed my children. You of all must understand what it is like to care for your subjects,” she continued to plead.

Please, Chryssi, nobody buys this anymore and especially not the undead Celestia.

[Reviewfilly]

11145220

I'm just a bit confused as to why Chryssie didn't try to fight the statue,

Well, I mostly just worked with the assumption that she's simply far too shocked to try considering it's the middle of the night and her brood was just decimated by a piece of fancy copper and the very ponies they killed the day before.

11145230
The risk was calculated, but man, she's bad at math.

[Etyco Filly]

11145247
That's kind of what I thought, so I guess that makes sense

[Samey90]

11145247
Well, probably no one takes into account undead statues when planning an invasion. Though then, Canterlot Wedding wasn't the best-planned invasion either.

[JimmySlimmy]

Good story reviewfily! It's a pretty straightforward telling of the ol' sleeping king story (in your case, Matjaž, right?) but there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. It's a tight, fun little story that doesn't waste too much time with unnecessary worldbuilding for what it wants to do, and that'a admirable. Good work!

[Reviewfilly]

11145274

in your case, Matjaž, right?

Funnily enough, no that's not him. I based it on a legend about Ladislaus I. The exact poem was this, in case you're perhaps interested, but considering the language and the fact that it was written by our arguably greatest poet, who didn't compromise on filling his poems chock full of clever word-plays and artistic liberties, I'm a bit worried translators may not be able to grapple with it.

Good work!

I'm very happy you liked it.

[Ice Star]

Suspenseful and satisfactory in how dark it is. Pony war stories are some of my favorite on the site, particularly those that nail the logistics of magical equine combat in some way. It's good to see more from you too.

11145282 That's incredibly interesting, the most lore I'd ever heard about mounted statues was that the position of the horse's legs allegedly spoke of the rider surviving battle or not.

[Jinxed]

Nice stuff, Hungarybroski.

[Reviewfilly]

11145285

particularly those that nail the logistics of magical equine combat in some way

Well, that's something I'm not sure I could deliver on yet, but I'm glad you liked the war part. I was a bit worried that the trope of "battered warband arriving to temporary safety" might be too tired of a trope, but it seems like my worries were, for the most part, unfounded.

That's incredibly interesting

It's a legend I learned of a few years ago and it has never really left my imagination because the way the poet paints the events is so visceral that I'm convinced that if it wasn't a 200 y.o. Hungarian poem, there would be metal songs about this legend.

This part especially is what inspired me for the main scene of this story (translation mine, sorry if anything sounds a bit weird, I'm not exactly a trained translator):

Ladislaus hears [the sounds of battle] in the church
Which lies on the bank of Körösvíz
His eyes shine once more
His chest rises again
The cover of his tomb
Lied still for 300 years now
It's about time to allow
Some fresh air into his tight home

He ties his sword on his belt
And grabs his massive battleaxe
Which once massacred the heretics
He reaches up his temple
And aligns his tipped crown
It was probably midnight by then
When he threw open the heavy iron doors

He then walks to the square
And turns to the right
In the darkness stands his horse-riding statue
The horse feels his approach from afar
It whinnies and dances, as it greets its master
The great horse shakes itself
And the bronze rider falls down.

It salivates from the upcoming battle
It smashes its hooves to ground, it neighs, it breathes fire
Ladislaus jumps in the saddle
And gives signal with his spurs
The horse jumps from the stone pillar
And rides far away along with he-who-has-long-passed-away

It has just a tiny bit of humor that contrasts the slaughter that follows so well.

11145310
Thanks, Britfren

[Alchemik]

The Unconquered Sun indeed! Thanks for both the thrilling story and pointing me to a really cool legend I hadn't heard of before. I don't think I could ever really tire of the dead fighting for the living trope, and this is such a fine variant thereof. Thanks for the epic fic!

[Ice Star]

11145379

It's a legend I learned of a few years ago and it has never really left my imagination because the way the poet paints the events is so visceral that I'm convinced that if it wasn't a 200 y.o. Hungarian poem, there would be metal songs about this legend.

Age certainly hasn't prevented metal bands from finding material, so perhaps there is still some hope. Unfortunately, I believe that if you mailed it in as a suggestion, then there would be a royalty dilemma.

(translation mine, sorry if anything sounds a bit weird, I'm not exactly a trained translator):

You shouldn't sell yourself short, this looks fine to me. If you're really curious, the only substantial difference between your translation and what I'm finding online* are the following:

• Your excerpt eliminated the meter.
• The only possible error might be that "lied" would be more likely to get translated to "lay" or "laid" but I'm honestly not sure. Tenses are complicated fuckers and even as a native English speaker I still have issues with them.
• Hungarian is apparently so hard to translate to English that anything I use comes out extremely garbled or made Google look like it had a stroke.
• The fragments that I got from trying to find English translations or make Google appear vaguely competent had a tendency for resorting to proper nouns and any highly specific descriptors as much as possible. Whether this is reflected in the original verse or a product of trying to translate it to another audience, I have no idea.

[Reviewfilly]

11146448

You shouldn't sell yourself short, this looks fine to me.

Thank you, that's a relief.

Your excerpt eliminated the meter.

Arany (meaning "Gold," he really lived up to his name), the author of the poem, made all his poems both rhyme and have a meter. I had to compromise on this because I don't really have a strong enough grasp on English to keep either.

The only possible error might be that "lied" would be more likely to get translated to "lay" or "laid"

That's actually really funny. This verb might be one of my biggest enemies in the language. I never know which version is correct. Thinking about it, I'm leaning towards "lay." It makes most sense considering the original work.

Hungarian is apparently so hard to translate to English that anything I use comes out extremely garbled or made Google look like it had a stroke.

Yeah, it's a completely different language family. No other language (except Finnish and a few tiny tribes in Russia) is anything similar to ours. You can imagine it made learning English quite the experience

proper nouns and any highly specific descriptors as much as possible

I did remove one instance of the king's name being mentioned, but otherwise my excerpt is largely faithful to the original. I can't say for sure without seeing what you looked at, but I'm inclined to think those translations probably took some bigger liberties.

[Via]

a lovely read

[Ice Star]

11146468

Arany (meaning "Gold," he really lived up to his name), the author of the poem, made all his poems both rhyme and have a meter. I had to compromise on this because I don't really have a strong enough grasp on English to keep either.

And I don't have a strong enough grasp of Hungarian to do the same.

That's actually really funny. This verb might be one of my biggest enemies in the language. I never know which version is correct. Thinking about it, I'm leaning towards "lay." It makes most sense considering the original work.

Pro tip: most native speakers don't either.

Yeah, it's a completely different language family. No other language (except Finnish and a few tiny tribes in Russia) is anything similar to ours. You can imagine it made learning English quite the experience

Sounds like a painful one lmao.

I did remove one instance of the king's name being mentioned, but otherwise my excerpt is largely faithful to the original. I can't say for sure without seeing what you looked at, but I'm inclined to think those translations probably took some bigger liberties.

Most likely the latter, though I could have been looking at a fragment from a different section.