Chapter: 4
Burial Wish
He moved through the shattered glass and broken planks that laid scattered throughout the ruins of his village, moved about in the darkness of what he had once upon a time, not so long ago, called home.
The pain drove him forward, the rage kept his resolve burning fiercely despite the biting chill of the cold wind. A wind that had been so pleasant, so peaceful. It now carried the scent of the dead and the suffering.
The Blacksmith looked around himself in sadness, he cast his gaze over the dismantled buildings and the dug up ground, exploited for its flint and stone. For that was the reason for which they lived, the one and sole purpose by which the gods decided to place such filth unto the land.
Builders were slaves to their greed and want. It was something the Blacksmith had come to hold as truth. That it was by greed and power that the world moved, that the trees grew and that the animals lived. They all were created with the intent of fueling the never sleeping machine of their avarice.
The Blacksmith walked over to the corpse of his beloved, of the one and only who had seen him for more than what he truly was. She had loved him, not as a brother of the community, not for the mere purpose of being like her. She had held him and felt him for who he was, a man with his flaws, a soul with it's stains.
To see her in such a state, to look into the eyes of one who had held such joy and love, to see her lying there in the mud while vermin writhed within her flesh.
It hurt.
Yet another victim she was, however. Not the first nor the last, for the land was unforgiving and it would take as much as it pleased without giving back anything but the memories of a haunted soul.
The Blacksmith knelt before her, no longer weeping. For his tears had long run dry and his soul had hardened to survive. He would not show more weakness, he would not care nor worry for his own fate anymore. As it was meaningless and he understood that.
For the land he was nothing, for the Builders he was less, and for his own people he was a traitor and a heretic. The world was unfair, and yet it was just in its own way. It was cruel and malicious, but it was rewarding of those strong enough to fend for themselves.
The Blacksmith now understood everything clearer than the elders themselves. It was a crystal before his eyes, water as calm and transparent as the village had been a time not too far back in the timeline of existence.
He lowered his hands and slid them beneath her corpse, careful and gentle in his movements. He half expected to hear her soft breath and see her eyes open slowly. Just as she had done, a hundred and one spring and winter mornings before a day of horror, a day of death.
With his final wish on his arms, the Blacksmith carried her back to the entrance of what had been their home. A homely building it once had been, a pleasant place to spend long days and nights. It was now a floor with no roof, with one wall. Splattered in blood.
He knelt down and placed her on the floor, gently. Almost as if through the kind touch and careful treatment she would somehow wake up. It was foolish, it was nothing but stupid desire mixed with despair. But he still held some hope, even if everything else mattered little anymore.
The Blacksmith cast his gaze over the ruined home, and began to dig. Steady chunks of dirt were sent flying behind him as his hands worked tirelessly. He was ignorant of anything else around him, he ignored it on purpose. Focusing only on the task at hand.
To dig a grave for his dreams, for his hope. For his fears and pain a crypt, for his love and desire a hole. A forgotten and unkept secret would be left untended in the vast expanse of Minecraftia, forever lost to the annals of history and ever exiled from thought or memory.
It was her grave, it was her final resting place. One among hundreds, a drop of water in the sea of tortured souls that perished with each and every passing day.
His eyes cold and his heart frozen, the Blacksmith dug. Knowing fully well what would hurt him the most about the grave, knowing in depth why the world would never feel well to him, not in the morrow, not ever again.
In the morning the birds would sing, the sun would shine, and the clouds would drift lazily about. It would be a beautiful morning. A disgustingly beautiful morning.
As the world smiled that fake grin it loved to wear, he would suffer. And it would be eternal, it would be unending. His punishment for whatever crime he had committed. It would be to see the land mock him with beauty his heart would not feel. Not without her.
His hands kept on pulling out rocks and dirt, digging deeper and deeper while the howls of the undead filled the cold night air. Eventually he stopped and looked at the sky.
The moon was gliding above in the sky, looking down on her children. The dark and evil machinations of darkness that roamed the shadows after the sun went down, they patrolled the domains of the silver orb in the skies. Eternally damned guardians, eternal in suffering, unending in despair.
The Blacksmith looked back down and continued, ignoring the howls of the beasts and monsters. Hellbent on finishing his task before the sun rose.
In the end, he finished. A dark, humid dirt hole lay before him, just as the dawn began to break across the horizon. He stood and held her in his arms, lifting her up and then gently placing her on the hole, on her grave.
He ran his fingers over her chest and stomach, tracing paths and trails he had travelled before, when the nights had been calm and the night air warm. His eyes fell on her hands, cold and stained with dirt. Maggots writhing over them.
The Blacksmith leaned down, slowly. He pressed his hands against her own. Ignoring the worms, forgetting the dirt. Choosing instead to remember when their warmth had comforted him, when their soft and gentle touch had made him the happiest he had ever been.
Then he laid her back on the grave, and using his hands, he filled the hole. Fighting the urge to steal one final glance, one last touch. The broken man hid his shattered hope, buried his mangled joy.
Upon placing the last stone atop the mound where she would rest, he walked back to the library where the other three waited for him. They were innocent as he had been, they were what he would never be again.
But they would be the instrument to his revenge.
Planning
In a cabin amidst the woodland, a safe haven in hostile grounds. There was a clash of cultures, like so many before had come to take place. This one however, was different. For in this place were two men of war, two who had seen the world in flames and blood run in rivers.
And the third one, she was a peaceful creature. One who had done no wrong to anyone, committed no crime in the eyes of righteousness. She had been nice and gentle to all and everyone. An angel, some may say. But angels were meant to be perfection and obedience, beautiful creatures with no flaws nor mistakes. Sparkle had her wrongs, little as they were, few as they may have been, they were still present.
Her scream made the men of war jump and search for their weapons as they faced each other, confusion and alertness showing in their eyes. Alfonso had a swift flash of fear and rage go through his face as a thought passed his mind, a thought of a passage long forgotten, long being in disuse.
"Carajo! Ahora que?!" The Spaniard shouted as he reached for his sword, a furious look in his eyes that shouted for murder.
Chicahua gave his brother a confused look, wasting nothing but a fraction of a second before standing up and grabbing his knife, still bloodied from their battle earlier that morning. The Aztec warrior stood from the chair were he had been resting, and ran back to the bedroom, Alfonso following close behind.
Both warriors of time long past, reached the door and kicked it open. Screams had accompanied their short race the entire way as Twilight made her plight known to all and any who passed nearby. Its sound was reminiscent to that of a person in agony, in despair, one whom had seen the world and all who inhabit it perish in a most painful of manners. But as the men gazed into the room, into the source of the screams, their eyes widened and the blood boiled. For it was not a damsel in distress that stood before them, it was not the sight of a foe and monster having their evil way with a confused woman, of a scared lady.
They were met with an unusual sight, a rather welcome one, but still unexpected.
Backing against the wall behind the bed, face contorted by terror and surprise, chest bare as the day upon she was found, and eyes staring frightened at a fur coat on the ground, was Twilight Sparkle. The most recent novice to the ranks of the great and mighty, of the ones and only, of the few and proud Builders of Minecraftia, was naked from the waist up and screaming in terror at an article of clothing.
Chicahua looked to the side respectfully while Alfonso groaned in exasperation.
"Some gal you've found yourself Chicahua." The Spaniard sheathed his weapon and walked back out of the room, though not before having had a second look at the terrified woman against the wall.
The Aztec payed him no mind, and instead moved towards Twilight. Or at least attempted to, for she backed away from him as soon as her eyes noticed his presence. She was scared, horrified even. Through her mind passed the thousand and one horrible things monsters would do to those unfortunate enough that crossed their paths. And it was here that Twilight had her flaw, had her mistake.
To assume without assessing the facts, it was a mistake she and her friends had committed in the past, and in the end resolved. But now, with a much more real threat in mind, and with a vague form of evidence before her, Twilight found no reason not to panic, no motive to be friendly. She wanted to escape and go home, before anything could befall her at the hands of those monsters.
With widened eyes and shaking steps, Twilight moved away from the Nahuatl, moved away as fast as she could without losing her balance. The once composed and objective, the rational and scholarly student, felt no thought pass her mind, no way to resolve or explain what was happening. Only one thought, only one thing would allow itself passage through her head.
'Why?'
Why did these creatures find themselves so full of scars and wounds? Why did they bear weapons covered in blood? Why was the skin of some innocent creature laying on the ground, manufactured into a piece of clothing?
"St-stay away!" She said, her voice quivering with unspoken fright, with unrestrained terror and confusion. It was her nightmare made into a reality, one moment, one minute, one fleeting and passing second of not knowing. She imagined many things that were gruesome and horrifying when the man before her took a step forward, but the one thing she did not know, or perhaps did, terrified her the most was the confusion.
Chicahua lowered his hand and unsheathed his knife from his belt, stopping his walk and covering his wounded face with a free hand. The Aztec looked at Twilight with eyes honest as those of a friend far away, loyal as one whom Twilight may never see once more, eyes that spoke the words his mouth could not.
'I am not going to hurt you.'
The Aztec soldier, long dead and long forgotten, yet still bearing the pride and honor of a life long lost, lowered his knife and placed it on the ground. Not once did his eyes leave Twilight's, not once would his gaze depart from hers. He was true to his word, as he had always been, and held no ill will against the frightened woman before him.
Twilight was afraid, but fear could not cloud her mind and shroud it in darkness with the proof that no harm would befall her so close by. She was cold, she was confused and terrified, but she was safe. That much she knew, that much she could say was true. The man before her would not harm her, nor allow anyone else to do so. It had been proven and written in blood on the snow outside the house, it had been sealed and demonstrated in the horrible wounds, in the deep and unforgiving marks left upon his flesh.
Twilight stopped retreating and looked him in the eyes, with questions in her own. She had allowed her mind to stop worrying, to trust she had given her consent. Whether it was naivety, wishful thinking, stupidity, or ignorance, she was still willing to trust him, to believe in the good of all souls and that no evil would befall her at his hands. The rest was on Celestia's hooves.
Chicahua tried to smile, to reassure her, to comfort her, to ease the pain and confusion of what she was going through. But his own pain was reminded to him in the form of a stinging sensation shooting across his face, across his flesh and into his mind. It was agonizing, with the cold biting down on the bone and with the exposed veins feeling the unforgiving chill on the air. Chicahua grunted and grimaced, clutching his wounds in hope of ridding himself of them, as if they were a rag of cloth which he could simply tear away and be done with.
The temptation of clawing at the wound just to see if it would fall was great, but he was no idiot and knew it would only worsen his situation.
Twilight once more found herself taken aback by the wounds and injuries the man had sustained, and in demonstration of her nature, of her natural born instinct which almost dictated she did good and cared for all and any who needed her help, she spoke. Shaky and scared, filled with uncertainty and softly she moved her lips and allowed thoughts to form into words.
"What happened to you?"
Chicahua recalled the flight from the sacred circle, the battle that there took place, and then the invasion which they had repelled at the doors of Alfonso's home. Twilight had slept through it all. She had not seen the undead, she had not seen the beast of beasts nor its skeletal minions. She was oblivious of how close she had come to never waking up again, to being flesh and meat before one of the many beasts which walked the land. To perish as many others had, to die screaming in the darkness were none would hear, none would care, none would help.
"It's nothing. Why did you scream?" Chicahua waved the question away and tried to change the topic, not wanting her to know, not yet, not when she was in such a frail state.
Twilight then remembered, she then recalled, the fur. It marked the death of someone who, in her mind, had been a thinking, living being. She shivered as she thought about it. In what grisly manner it must have perished, in what horrible moment did it meet its end? To die for the vanity of clothing... Just why?
"What is that coat made of?"
She had asked it with as serious a face as she could muster, not wanting the fear of the answer to mark her features, not wanting him to know just how terrified she truly was. But it showed, it crept up to the surface whether she wanted it or not. Fear is an entity that delights in showing itself, in manifesting her presence to the world by filling hearts with her presence, by stinking the air with her smell, by betraying those who would trust her to hide and not show herself.
The Aztec warrior had seen fear many a time, in the face of those who would escape war, in the eyes of the men who died at his feet, even in the ungrateful gaze of cowards not willing to be sacrificed to the great god of the sun and war, Huitzilopochtli. And now he saw it yet again, with understanding and sympathy. As he had been where she stood before, he had felt as she did. Confused and alone, surrounded by the unfamiliar sights of a new world, without friends nor allies to depend upon.
But he found himself still confused as to why it had been the coat which had startled her.
"It is fur, the finest of the western villages. Why do you ask?"
Twilight looked incredulously at his confused face as he asked. She did not know how he could simply state that the clothes were made from the skin of dead creatures so simply, without caring. Twilight felt herself completely confused, and that only served to ignite something, something she felt ashamed to feel, she felt was not appropriate.
Instead of anger, of fear or disgust. Instead of yelling and shouting, of calling him out for the monster he was. Instead of the thousand ways one would refer to him and his actions, Twilight felt...
Curious.
But the fear remained, and it prompted her to be careful in her wording. She did not agree with the death of living beings for something as mundane as clothing, and yet he did. It was this, this difference, this clash of thoughts and cultures, it was this that drove her curiosity. And this time, instead of feeling afraid, instead of judging, she analyzed.
The man had no fur, and the snow was bitter cold outside of the structure where she now stood. There seemed to be many dangerous creatures roaming on the outside, judging by the horrible wounds he sported, and if that was the case, was he really to blame for taking the pelts of beasts who meant him ill? When he could place them to good use? The reasons went on and on, the causes and effects forming complicated links that kept on leading to dead ends. There would be no enlightenment, no veil lifting unless she asked, unless she made cultures clash.
"Don't you see anything wrong in that?" Twilight asked through chattering teeth and shivering limbs. The cold was strong, even inside of the humble cabin.
Chicahua noticed her cold and went to pick up the fur coat, but remembering her question, he reconsidered and pulled out a woolen shirt that had been laying around the floor. He was sure Alfonso wouldn't mind, as the Spaniard rarely took much care of the clothing he had, especially so if it wasn't made out of fur or pelts, as the Builder had a liking for everything made out of the trophies he collected out in the wild.
As he picked up the piece of clothing and handed it to the shivering gal, whom after inspecting it carefully to make sure the material had not belonged to any living beings before being turned to cloth, slid her arms into the sleeves and let the garment warm her body.
Only after seeing her stop shivering, and only then did Chicahua answered her. As strange as the question sounded to him, as unfamiliar and odd as it was for her to ask such a thing, he answered.
"I don't see why I should, as you can possibly tell, it is very cold here and the pelts aid in keeping the warmth." Chicahua spoke gently, patiently, and kindly if a bit strained because of his injuries. He knew not why she asked what she asked, but wanted to answer her nevertheless. She was confused and lost, as he had been, as many others who found themselves reawakening in Minecraftia, and as he had done with many others, he would help her.
Twilight nodded, thinking deeply as to what her next question should be. What to ask without revealing where she was from? She knew he meant her no ill, but she could see he was dangerous. Or at least he looked the part, and to allow him knowledge of Equestria would mean possibly allowing him entrance if she- When she returned. She did not wish any ill to befall her home, and even if this man was of good heart, some of his kin may not be. She would not run the risk.
"Where am I?"
It was the question. The one and unique, the one and only that truly mattered. For it was where she was that changed all the variables, that altered all the outcomes, that modified all the possible acts she would commit. For it was no longer in the land of Equestria that she walked, it was not earth that she would suffer in, and it was not on the desolate deserts or frozen plains of another planet that she would live.
"You are in Minecraftia, in the Snow Clan's territory to be more specific, inside Alfonso's home." Chicahua offered with a half smile, trying his best to maintain the smile without hurting himself. More questions would come, he knew it. A simple name she had not heard of before would not satiate her need to know, but it was a start.
"What is Minecraftia, exactly? And why is my body changed?" Twilight knew she had made a mistake, and a grave one, when she noticed Chicahua's face take on a look of confusion. He obviously didn't know she had changed physically, and to say she had been a pony would place her home at risk. Would place her at risk.
As far as she knew, this one that stood before her was willing to kill any species that was not his own. Why would a pony be any different? Improvising swiftly she spoke once more, trying to sound as casual as possible.
"I... Uh... used to smaller! Yes! That's it, I think I gained a little weight when I... got here?" Twilight smiled to hide her actual thoughts, hoping that he would believe her, or at least that he wouldn't press the matter any further. Luck was on her side it seems. Chicahua nodded as a slight smile formed on his face.
'Women.' He thought, believing her concern to be nothing other than worry for her figure. Little did he know of the many more complex thoughts circling through Twilight's mind, thoughts of home, thoughts of friends and family. These were things she sought to protect.
"Well, rest assured. It is hardly noticeable." The warrior smiled quickly once more, the pain in his face starting to numb as the cold left nerves without feeling. He remembered the many things that needed to be assessed, and decided to get started explaining. "Miss Twilight, come with me. We'll explain everything to you soon enough."
Twilight nodded, glad that answers would come, scared that they may not be to her liking.
She slowly focused her strength on her legs, willing them to move. In her mind she ran the motions necessary, she calculated the strength and distance she'd have to walk. With care and delicacy, she moved her leg up, and planted her foot down just a few inches away from where it used to be.
Smiling widely at her success, she rested her weight on her leg and moved the other forward as she had done with the first. In little time she was walking, albeit rather slowly, but walking nevertheless. She tried to follow her mind-traced path towards the door, but it was difficult. She was tired and unaccustomed to her body.
Chicahua noticed her struggle and offered a hand for support. Twilight looked at him and then at his hand, wondering whether it was alright for her to accept. She than noticed the look on his eyes, where she found no evil intent, no means to harm her, and she accepted.
Both walked through the house and into the kitchen, were Alfonso was mopping blood off from the floor. The stains were already dried and the man cleaning them looked annoyed and tired, his own wounds inflicting pain every time he moved, every second he spent standing.
Twilight looked uneasily at the blood stains, a question unasked, a thought unspoken. Chicahua noticed and nodded to the open door, where the sight of several corpses could be seen laying on the ground as they rotted under the morning sun. Alfonso caught his brother's gaze and hurried to close it, before Twilight saw the cost of every night, of every hour in the land of Minecraftia.
Chicahua pulled the chair closest to him and set it before Twilight, who thanked him and sat down, her gaze still lingering on the blood drenched floor.
The Aztec pulled another chair and walked over to a shelve standing a little ways behind them.
"The cask still there, brother?"
"Has been since last you came, been saving it for the next reunion."
Chicahua nodded and pulled out a wooden cask from the shelve, along with three wooden mugs. The soldier walked back to the table where Twilight was sitting, and placed the cask and mugs before her before filling them and taking one for himself and handing one to Alfonso.
The Spaniard thanked him and drank greedily, downing half the drink in a matter of seconds. Chicahua took a sip from his own, tilting his head to the side to prevent the alcohol from touching his wounds. He grimaced despite his precautions and sat down.
Twilight eyed her drink curiously, noticing the strange odor that was expelled from it and knowing it did not resemble anything she had ever seen or read about. She was unsure whether to try and drink it, despite knowing it wasn't dangerous, as she had seen the others drink quite contently.
"It'll help with the cold, drink it." The Spaniard said as he refilled his own mug, a grin crossing his features.
"Ok..." Twilight eyed her drink warily, but decided to trust and not be rude. She took a small sip, just enough for her tongue to grab a taste of what it was like. She rolled the liquid around in her mouth for a while, taking in the taste. It was bittersweet, and had the taste of oak from the cask it had been inside for who knows how long. She drank it, and felt the drink run down her throat, leaving a slight burning sensation as it went.
"Feel any better?" Alfonso asked as he grabbed a chair for himself.
Twilight did feel the cold start to leave, not entirely, but her limbs felt the bite of the air a bit less.
"Yes, thank you."
Alfonso nodded and sat down, readying another mug for himself, as the cold bit harder against those who had lost blood. Chicahua knew this and he wanted nothing more than to be able to drink along with his friend. But his wounds and a pending duty stopped him, and he would not feel relaxed until he was done with the matter at hand.
"Regarding your earlier question." Chicahua cleared his throat and sat up, looking Twilight in the eye before continuing. "You are in Minecraftia. You came here by the will of the gods, by the desire of a greater force. Your destiny, much like ours, is meant to be great since you were chosen."
"Zealot..." Alfonso murmured behind his mug as he drank some more. Chicahua ignored him and continued.
"We all were gathered by the will of the great Builder, whom ruled the land long before our arrival. He recruited those whom he saw fitting for his kingdom and bestowed upon them great knowledge, so they could reach his greatness one day."
Twilight listened as he spoke, taking careful note of what he said, considering why she had been chosen and whether this 'great Builder' would help her return.
"Upon his death, his disciples strived to match his skill and prowess, but perished in the attempt. All they were able to do was to save the new recruits and train them. You see, the great Builder, in all his glory, foresaw the fall of his students, and called forth from the spirit world for more to come and learn of his ways, so that his legacy would never fall."
Twilight noticed that Chicahua seemed to get lost in his own story as he narrated, forgetting whom he was telling it to as well, and simply focusing on the narration. His face shone with eagerness and awe as he told of the tales passed down unto him by his teacher, and Twilight seriously considered whether Alfonso's joke of him being a 'zealot' were based on truth.
"...and so we arrived here upon our deaths. The knowledge of-"
"Wait, wait, wait! Deaths?" Twilight stopped him as her eyes grew wide and her mind struggled to process what she was hearing. "You don't mean you..."
"Drowned at sea, sword stuck in my chest and bullet going through my eye." Alfonso said cheerily as he took another swig of his drink. "Was on a mission for a nobleman from Sicily. He wanted me and my crew to chase off some pirate galley from an island nearby. Turns out, it wasn't a pirate galley. The bastards were ottomans, and there was an entire fleet of them."
Twilight looked at him slack-jawed and confused if not a little scared. Chicahua rolled his eyes at the roughness of the Spaniard, but decided that since the lass was dead as well, adding his story in may help her feel not so alone.
Twilight turned towards Chicahua, face asking if the man had been joking or if he had been serious. The Aztec nobleman shrugged and smiled sadly.
"I died in a duel, outside of the main temple in the great city of Tenochtitlan. A nobleman from Texcoco and I had a disagreement over whom a noblewoman's daughter should marry and we fought. I fell into a dirty trick of his and he struck me on the head." Chicahua passed a hand through the hair of the area where he had been struck, as if he expected to feel the blood afresh, and the wound renewed.
Twilight nodded slowly. Not believing for a second what she was being told, but knowing it was not a joke. Perhaps it was a figurative way of speaking? Was it in code? There simply had to be a reasonable explanation. But there wasn't. Their eyes showed sadness unspoken as they talked of their deaths, their voices carried regret and unfulfilled dreams and hopes. Of a life long past, of a future they never had.
"I... Well, that's a lot to take in..." She forced the words out, having trouble as her own mind processed what their tales meant, what they said of her own arrival. No, she wasn't dead. She couldn't. Impossible. And yet it was what their mouths silently said, what their sad eyes and gazes implied.
"Oh, there's even more! Just wait until he gets to the interesting part. You'll love the place even more." Alfonso served himself a third mug of the drink inside the cask, and drank. Ignoring the cold completely, forgetting the bite of the wind and the lash of the snow.
Twilight noted the changes in Alfonso's mood, she attributed them to the drink and decided to place it down for a while, lest she found herself being affected. Careful in her thinking, and deciding to leave the more sensitive questions for later, she moved unto safer ground, known territory if you will.
"What happened after?"
"On the story? Well, the great Builder's disciples trained the newcomers in the ways of the land. They passed down the spells and rites, the recipes and lessons of their teacher down to the others." Chicahua sipped from his drink and sighed. "Sadly, many of the original disciples died before fully completing their student's training. Thus, many of the great Builder's discoveries and powers were lost to us,"
"But those that were remembered were put to good use. The disciples buried their fallen teachers and roamed the land for centuries. They lived off the land and battled against the beasts of the night-"
"Beasts?" Twilight interrupted, curiosity besting politeness.
Alfonso chuckled and pointed at the door.
"Who do you think the blood belonged to? Almost died last night, you too."
Twilight felt a shiver run down her spine, and as her eyes looked at the wounds of the men before her, a new light shone in her mind. Marking them as heroes, as saviors. To think such scars and injuries would befall them, and could have befallen her. It was strange for her, new and terrifying. A thought that had no place in her usual world. Death was a concept she did not meet on a daily basis.
"The beasts were strong and many, but our predecessors survived them. Well, some of them did anyway." Chicahua paused and looked at Alfonso expecting him to continue. "You tell this part better than I do, since you are more objective about it."
Alfonso nodded and lowered his now empty mug.
"Aye, that I do." He sat down and began his tale.
"After the second generation of disciples lost their mentors, they went their own separate ways. Living out in the wilderness in cabins like this one, not having contact with the others for centuries. They fought their own wars against the undead and built fortifications to defend themselves."
Alfonso pointed at Chicahua without taking his gaze off of Twilight.
"Then he happened. Chicahua was found by Akio Daichi, one of the second generation disciples. The man trained him and they became close friends. Chicahua convinced him of forming some sort of ruling central government, in which Akio would play a leading role,"
Twilight found herself deeply entranced into the story, into the knowledge. The more she knew of this new land, the safer she felt. As if by lifting a veil her path was illuminated.
"Most of the Builders didn't like that. If there's one thing we all have in common, it's independence. We don't like being told what to do. And yet there he was, insisting it was necessary. No one believed him, until a mine was overrun by the undead and the treasure inside was lost. A Builder almost died in the attack,"
Alfonso stopped narrating and refilled his mug.
"Then the vote was unanimous. A council was made, led by a man from Gaul and one from... Err, what nation did the other one come from?"
"An empire called Republic of Congo or something similar. Never heard of it however." Chicahua replied as he searched his memory for a nation with a similar name. 'Strange' he thought. 'I studied every single empire and kingdom of the known world at the Calmecac, yet that name is completely unfamiliar...'
"Well, man's dead anyway, doesn't matter much. The council was made, those two led it while Akio and three others backed their decisions. But soon enough, the Gaul tried to crown himself king. War started, and everyone was forced to pick sides. Akio, Chicahua, the councilmen and a few others supported the man from Congo, while several others aided the Gaul in the wars to follow,"
Chicahua nodded somberly while Alfonso served another mug for himself and his friend, Twilight's was still half full and the cask was beginning to run dry.
"Whom did you support?" Twilight asked innocently, engrossed into the story with the attention a drowning man must place upon a nearby boat.
Alfonso shrugged.
"I wasn't here when it all happened, I was reborn sometime afterwards. But I think I would have gone with the man of Congo too. If the Gaul had won, well... He was too ambitious and I doubt he would have been content with ruling over the council. Might have crowned himself king of the land..." His face grew serious, not liking the idea of being under the service of yet another king.
"So the man from Republic of Congo won?"
Chicahua shook his head with a smile across his lips.
"No, he died along with the Gaul. He thought it would be an excellent plan to ambush the Gaul inside a mine, but most of us did not wish to enter an enemy construct. They were filled with traps when the war began, you see? Anyway, he went in with a small group, about three others."
"Turns out the Gaul was waiting for them inside, ready and armed for a battle. Outnumbered him too, and would have won if the mine had not collapsed." Alfonso finished, both the tale and his mug.
Chicahua nodded and decided to continue, but upon opening his mouth he felt the sting of the wound reminding him of his state.
"Damned beasts... Alfonso, continue with the rest. I'll go bandage this damn thing..."
Alfonso nodded as he saw his friend leaving. He knew the wound was painful, but both had endured worse injuries and far more costly defeats.
"Is he going to be alright?" Twilight asked as she saw Chicahua leaving.
Alfonso smiled at her and nodded.
"Bastard's tough as stone. A good friend too, if you can look past the odd color of his skin and the smell of him." Alfonso chuckled as he spoke, lightheartedly poking fun at the expense of his friend. A soldier he was, a crude, blunt man he was. Offensive? Maybe, but life had made him what he was, and he did not regret his own self.
Twilight didn't understand how they could call each other friends when they made such comments of each other, but decided not to ask, lest she angered them, and instead continue with the tale.
"What happened then?"
"Not much. Akio and the other two surviving councilmen formed a triumvirate that forms some sort of authority up to today, Chicahua was tasked with rescuing other Builders and training them. That is how he found me and several others. Recently the only interesting things going on are the increasing assaults of the undead and... Well, you."
Twilight felt his gaze falling on her, she felt the weight of curiosity and expectations, the heavy collar that this new world had placed upon her. She did not know how to react, what to say or what to think. She did the only thing she knew would be smart, the only possibility for answering her question. Ask.
"What happens now?"
Alfonso stood up and refilled his mug, then he walked over to the door and rested his hand on its wooden surface.
"Your choice gal. Will you come with us? Will you learn the way of a soldier and fighter? The way of a minecraftian warrior?" He lowered his hand and instead kicked the door open.
Twilight gasped as she saw them.
The corpses. At least a dozen of them, laying on the snow covered ground, rotting away as the sun's warmth licked at their flesh mercilessly, uncaring, without bothering to see if the stench would bother anyone. The land once more mocked and laughed at the pure of heart, at the sensitive souls that had no malice in them.
Twilight's eyes looked and suffered, at the blood, at the intestines, at the bare bones as they were picked by birds of prey. Her innocence being tested, her mind being battered. Minecraftia had already shattered a man's innocence before, and she could do it again, as many times as she pleased. Twilight was the next one to feel the bite of her teeth, of her jaws. The jaws of the land.
"Or will you die?"
Twilight looked at Alfonso in the eye, she saw no malice, no evil. Just pain, painful memories of a time when he had been asked the same question, when he had been subjected to a similar fate. In Twilight's mind only one thing was thought of, only one thing passed through.
'I want to go home.'
The land heard and laughed, the land heard and grinned. The land opened her jaws and readied to devour what used to be a gentle soul, a kind heart. For her own heart was soiled, tainted. Minecraftia's heart was black with evil, and there were none who could cleanse it.
There were only men, who could feed it.
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MOAR FOOR THE LOVE OF GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD
In a bit, but not like 3 months.
BTW,
Deliciousness In a Sauce!
I'm just wondering at this point if she'll ever go back or if we'll learn how she died.
So glad to see this updated. Good to see Twilight back up on her feet, both literally and figuratively. I think her reaction to the coat was very appropriate; immediate knee jerk reaction of fear and disgust, but then Twilight's logic kicked in and she still didn't like it, but understood why.
Thanks for getting this out to us tonight. As always, looking forward to the next chapter.
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You bring up good points my friend, they'll be assessed at the end of the story. Won't say more so as not to reveal things I shouldn't
1918331
You're welcome,
and thanks! It's not very easy to notice but... That coat scene gave me quite a fight before it finally ended up as I wanted 
I and probably everyone else who has been watching htis one want moar, but will be patient and will wait for you.
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Thanks
hopefully it won't be a very long time, but it's hard to tell what with life and all that 
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Aww...
Thanks mate! I MAY be rewriting My Little Minecraft in the future, so keep an eye out for that!
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Looking forward to it!
Love the story I have said about a few stories and believe me if I though it suck I would say it can't wait for more