The Bards of Mares

by Reviewfilly

Arrival

A great oaken table, capable of seating twenty on each side, cut the chamber in half, illuminated by a great fireplace burning in the back, bathing the stone walls in warm orange light. Though their notice was short, the servants made their best attempt at serving dishes more mouthwatering than the last, placing them one after the other in an arrangement that had a chance of perhaps impressing even royalty.

A dozen or so ponies sat around the table, all jumping into attention upon noticing who just entered. All of them wore weathered crimson uniforms, embroidered with the icon of a shield. The sight of his knights gave Hill Climber some sense of comfort, though even this was somewhat soured by the many empty chairs around the table. One hoofful of soldiers versus an army… It was truly a hopeless situation.

“Milord, the Crescent Queen is upon us,” one of the knights called out, breaking the silence.

“I am aware,” came the impassive reply.

The knight was taken aback by the coldness of his lord’s voice. He waited for a second hoping he would say something more, but when that didn’t happen, he cleared his throat and finally spoke up.

“What are your orders, liege?” he asked, his voice tinted with the slightest tinge of worry. “How are we to defend ourselves?”

All eyes in the room looked pleadingly at Lord Hill Climber, who felt as if the entire castle threatened to collapse on him any moment now. He slumped slightly.

“There is nothing we could do,” he replied weakly. “We’ll simply receive her.”

The knights looked at each other, their faces turning visibly paler just as much from fear as from anger. Their eyes flicked back towards the lone stallion.

“Lord, surely you jest!” replied one of them, hardly even masking the anger in her voice. “Have we held out so long only to give up without even trying?”

“Sir, have you forgotten? We’re bound by the Crown to defend this land!” said another, smashing his hoof against the table, rattling the glasses and plates on it.

“Her Radiance could be here to liberate us any moment now and She would not accept this!”

The crestfallen lord glowered at them. His red eyes burned like two pieces of coal as he scowled back at his court.

“Don’t you think I know this?” he asked, almost shouting. “Don’t you think I feel the burn of my Mark upon my skin every second we speak? Or that my conscience isn’t tormenting me?”

As he spoke, he paced a few steps and cast his eye on a great painting hanging on the wall. It depicted his ancestor standing in armor, resting one hoof triumphantly on the skull of a Changeling. Though his lips were set into a cold smile and his eyes shone with determined bravery, the only thing Hill Climber saw on his face was deep disappointment towards him. The Scourge of the Changelings would die in shame if he saw that one of his descendants willingly parleyed with the enemy.

Hill Climber turned back towards the knights, who looked at him with a mix of pity and some resentment. His voice sunk to a feeble whisper.

“I haven’t heard anything from Her Radiance ever since the invasion isolated us from Equestria. The couriers I’ve sent to the neighboring hamlets either don’t return or bring only tales of destruction. Don’t you get it? This land is as good as fallen! Fighting for it would be suicide, so I’m pledging to protect the only thing I still can; you.”

Silence fell upon the chamber. A piece of firewood broke in half in the great fireplace with a groan. The dishes on the table continued to steam, undisturbed.

A series of rhythmic claps sliced through the silence, followed by a cloyingly sweet voice.

“How very wise of you, Lord.”

All eyes flicked towards the source, as a newcomer entered the room. Her armor glistened from the hearth’s flames and her mane shone with stardust of distant constellations. Uncaring of the knight’s terrified gazes, she elegantly waltzed into the chamber and walked up to the table, casting a long look over the courses stacked on it.

“My, my, what a reception! Truly, you have outdone yourself!” Her words were drawn out and her tone subtly seductive. As she spoke she turned back towards Hill Climber, tipping her head to the side with a smirk. “Are you this desperate to earn my favor?” she asked with an innocent pout.

“But the guards…” he muttered in response, frozen in fear, as nightmarish images of the halls outside being painted red flashed through his mind.

“Are alive and untouched,” she finished his sentence with a dismissive hoof-wave. “My entourage is waiting outside. Do you believe these old rocks could keep out the Aspect of the Night?” She looked over herself with a knowing smile. “Now, I believe you still haven’t given me the greetings I deserve.”

“Crescent Queen, welco-” Hill Climber struggled to push out the words, but before he could even finish his spiel, the mare interrupted him.

“Tut-tut, you’re my beloved vassal now, aren’t you? So there is no need to call me such a cold name,” she spoke with feigned offense in her voice. “From now on, I’ll allow you to address me as ‘my Queen,’ understand?”

The lord stared at her with sullen eyes. His body shook slightly from the despair and hate he felt, but still he managed to speak.

“M-my Queen…”

“You are still not giving me the respect I so desire.” Belying her unassuming stance, the Queen’s voice was tinted with a sadistic glee. “Bow.”

“What?” he mouthed wordlessly, not wanting to understand what he just heard.

“Bow,” she repeated slowly. “Prostrate yourself before your queen.”

Like a puppet on cheap strings, connected to a rusty machine, the lord slowly and awkwardly bent his legs.

The words burned his throat and it took all of his concentration not to allow any of his acrid tears to fall. His only comfort was that he didn’t have to look into the face of his knights as he said these words.

“My Queen, welcome to Fort Hill Climber,” he mumbled.