Reward Prefers Risk

by AltruistArtist

Hlight Foresetten Plight (Reward Prefers Risk)

The obsidian blade on display at the antique shop was inscribed with a familiar Old Ponish phrase: hlight foresetten plight.

Sunburst swept the artifact from its stand with such ferocious excitement he nearly severed the rope of a hanging lantern with the edge of that beautiful dagger. If not for seizing his magical grip at the last moment, his favorite Ponyville antique shop would have gone up in flames.

The shop patron nearest to him – an elderly mare reaching for a delicate teapot – returned her tremulous hoof to the floor and backed into the next aisle. If Sunburst caught her retreat, he showed no indication. He levitated the blade mere inches from his snout, fogging its polished reflective surface with each astonished breath.

It was perhaps the most entrancing vestige of the past he ever had the pleasure of gazing upon. The blade was jagged, three distinct angles bent in its body. Along its center, the Old Ponish declaration that loosely translated to, “Reward Prefers Risk!” was set in embellished blackletter typical of the era. Not a line of the engraving was out of place. Unlike the automation lent to modern Equestrian artisans, ancient smiths conducted this process by horn or hoof. This item resonated with love in its crafting. A swell lifted in Sunburst’s chest.

“Wonderful find. This was delivered only a few days ago, shipped in from a dig site near Hollow Shades,” the shopkeeper informed Sunburst as she unrolled a reel of parchment paper to wrap the blade in. “You sure are lucky nopony else snatched it up.”

“I feel lucky,” Sunburst exclaimed, the giddy jig of his hooves causing the rickety floorboards to creak. He deposited a pouch of bits to the shopkeeper, delighted to deplete them in this single purchase. Beaming, he leaned upon the counter. “I’ve got a few friends in mind who will certainly be thrilled to see thi—”

“That belongs to me!”

A sudden, sonorous bark erupted through the shop, shaking dust from the shelves. Sunburst’s ears flattened, and as he turned, a dark figure was upon him, horn aglow.

It had been more than a year since he saw Stygian. His last, and first, encounter with the petite rangy stallion had been the landmark night of his salvation. At the time, Sunburst couldn’t believe he was a primary witness to an event of modern Equestrian history, much less that he discovered the journal that incited it. The return of the Pillars of Equestria and their secondary defeat of the Pony of Shadows would be a tale read by school foals centuries into the future and Sunburst’s name would be written on those pages.

As the sun set on that momentous occasion, Sunburst had joined the host of legends in Celestia’s court. Stygian was quiet, then. Quiet as he had been the duration of that night, pulled like a silent sliver of soul from the chest of the tenebrous Pony of Shadows. As the Pillars shrouded him in a collective embrace, Stygian smiled in a faint, genteel way that suggested to Sunburst he was content with the promise of their renewed friendship.

Here in the humble antique shop, Stygian appeared on the verge of frenzy. The light from his horn extinguished, revealing his stricken face. His blunt-cut fringe hung in piecey strands over his wide eyes, flashing white as they darted upward, fixated on the counter, hoof outstretched.

“That dagger,” he gasped, as though having run for tireless miles, “belongs to me.”

His chest heaved, rattling the full saddlebags hugging his lithe barrel. They protruded with simple domestic items — a wooden spoon, the cracked rim of a ceramic vessel, a cluster of half-melted candles. All things Sunburst wouldn’t have bat an eye at in his quest for ancient novelty.

“Stygian! It’s good to see you again,” Sunburst said, because despite the strange circumstances, it was true. “I didn't know you were a fellow antiquer.”

Stygian caught his eye in fleeting recognition, before the shopkeeper’s voice interjected to say, “I am sorry, sir. This item is already spoken for.” She tied off her tidy wrapping with a twine bow, offering the dagger to Sunburst with a pointed stare.

“Please. I…” Stygian’s gaze darted between them both, failing to choose who to address. “You don’t understand. That dagger is my property. It cannot be bought; it is not for sale!”

“Oh.” Sunburst frowned, pressing his glasses up. “Sorry. My mistake I suppose. With it being out on the shelf, I was under the impression it was still up for grabs.”

“It never should have been up for grabs.” Stygian's desperate attention focused on the shopkeeper, still out of breath as he delved into an explanation. “My magic is keyed to it. I felt its transport here, to this shop. So whatever proof of magical signature you need, I will give it. I have already bore witness to far less significant belongings of mine being cataloged and shipped to museums and secondhoof marketplaces across Equestria and have been denied their rightful ownership. I entreat you, please, if there is kindness in your heart, I am asking you with all that I am to return this dagger to me.”

The shopkeeper was dumbfounded. Her hoof fumbled to slide the wrapped blade once more in Sunburst's direction. “Sir, the transaction has been made. It is out of my hooves.”

Stygian’s eyes wrenched to Sunburst, lips parted to offer another plea. However, the proffered dagger was already being steadily ensconced in the golden aura of Sunburst's magic. He lifted it to Stygian, who tentatively took it in his own magical grasp.

“I'd be lying if I wasn't a little sad to part with such a beautiful artifact, but it sounds like it was never mine to own.” Sunburst offered a gentle smile. “Paid for in full, but not bought. By which I mean — no need to repay me. If I was hurting for bits, this hobby of mine would not be sustainable!”

Stygian stared at the parcel, as though seeing through the parchment into the heart of the penumbral blade within. Perhaps he was in disbelief that kindness could be given out as freely as this hard-sought item had been given to him. His eyes, wide and mournful, lifted to Sunburst. There was a cut of dark gray beneath them.

“Thank you, Sunburst,” he said, leaving Sunburst momentarily uplifted to know he recalled his name. “I am moved by your kindness. You have given me something of immense value, and that should not go without compensation. I don't know if I have enough in bits to match the cost you paid. I can offer you what I’ve collected in my previous shopping.” He gestured to his full saddlebags. “Though I do not know if any of these items will be of the same value to you, seeing as they are mere necessities.”

Sunburst shook his head. “Oh, no need.” He beckoned Stygian to trot with him to the shop door so the next patron could check out. “I’m sort of at a loss for what I could ask you for. If anything, it’s been good to see you, Stygian. You showing up here today brought to mind that I haven’t seen you since…”

“The night of the Shadow’s undoing,” Stygian said with sharp gravity. “You played a role in my absolution. I have not forgotten that.”

“Er — indeed.” Sunburst rubbed his foreleg, ruffling the spot where his pale sock met the rest of his gamboge coat. “Here’s an idea: how about we get together and catch up sometime?” His eyes drifted in thought. “I live here in Ponyville now. I’m actually the vice principal at the School of Friendship, believe it or not! Oh — have you ever visited?”

Sometime during the course of Sunburst's ramble, Stygian had produced a parchment and quill, jotting a quick note. He rolled it primly, levitating it to Sunburst. “My address,” he stated. “I invite you to join me at my residence so I can prepare you a meal. It’s the least I can do. Come by as you will. My days, most often, are empty.”

“Oh!” Sunburst once again sputtered. “Will do! Thank you, Stygian.”

“It is I who will continue to thank you.” Stygian turned his gaze up at Sunburst. His expression wavered as a sigh wracked his small frame, affected as though by some deep malaise. “You have a good heart.”

Departing the shop, he turned the wrapped blade in his magical grasp in a slow rotation, reuniting with the inclination of its weight. An abrupt lassitude overtook his posture once he believed he was out of sight, his head dropping below his withers. But Sunburst saw this change in him as he went.

He unrolled the scroll. Stygian’s residence was just outside Ponyville, near the edge of town based on the street name.

At least, that’s how it translated. The address was current, but written in Old Ponish.

108 Vut Vieg — establa tryn senen ulf Uld Ekwostria

(108 Woodland Way — the house that looks like it’s from Old Equestria)

Stygian remembered Sunburst was fluent.

Comments

[Bicyclette]

The obsidian blade on display at the antique shop was inscribed with a familiar Old Ponish phrase: hlight foresetten plight.

love the Old Ponish analogue of Old English

If not for seizing his magical grip at the last moment, his favorite Ponyville antique shop would have gone up in flames.

given all the magical artifacts Equestria has lying around in antique shops i am surprised this doesn’t happen more often

It was perhaps the most entrancing vestige of the past he ever had the pleasure of gazing upon. The blade was jagged, three distinct angles bent in its body. Along its center, the Old Ponish declaration that loosely translated to, “Reward Prefers Risk!” was set in embellished blackletter typical of the era. Not a line of the engraving was out of place. Unlike the automation lent to modern Equestrian artisans, ancient smiths conducted this process by horn or hoof. This item resonated with love in its crafting. A swell lifted in Sunburst’s chest.

love this description! it would swell a lift in my chest as well

“Stygian! It’s good to see you again,” Sunburst said, because despite the strange circumstances, it was true. “I didn't know you were a fellow antiquer.”

ahaha, Sunburst still not making the connection that these items aren’t antiques to Stygian, very on-brand

The shopkeeper was dumbfounded. Her hoof fumbled to slide the wrapped blade once more in Sunburst's direction. “Sir, the transaction has been made. It is out of my hooves.”

oof, ponies really do live in a society

“It is I who will continue to thank you.” Stygian turned his gaze up at Sunburst. His expression wavered as a sigh wracked his small frame, affected as though by some deep malaise. “You have a good heart.”

aww!

Stygian remembered Sunburst was fluent.

augh love it