The Cyclops of the Forge

by GC13

Issue 6: The Test

Starforge's own heartbeat throbbed in his ears. His stomach churned violently, threatening to hurl its contents into his helmet. Holding his breath, he swallowed deeply in an attempt to at least stave off the inevitable.

Everything was so bright. He squinted his eyelids to try to keep the light out, but it still felt uncomfortable. Trying to shut it all out, he closed his eyes. Immediately, though, he felt himself swaying to the side.

He opened his eyes again, then righted himself. There was only one way to make everything stop... He raised a shaky hoof, trying to reach it back so he could unlatch his helmet, but his balance failed him again. Tipping over violently, only his hoof's clumsy return to the ground managed to keep him from falling down.

His lungs began to burn, and Starforge realized that he was still holding his breath. Desperately, he forced a breath out, then inhaled sharply. It wasn't enough, really, but every breath he took felt like another chance for his stomach to heave and empty itself inside of his helmet.

The components that made up Bully were toxic, he had known that. There was a huge difference between reading the clean, clinical term "severe nausea", and feeling the overwhelming urge to vomit that it indicated.

What he was feeling provided a stark contrast to the light butterflies in his stomach that he had felt earlier, back in the mayor's office. While he had certainly felt stressed then, it was really just an upset stomach that had been brought on from feeling like the rug had just been pulled out from under him. Once he put his mind to it, he had been able to walk out without much difficulty, and felt just fine after a nap.

While Bully's nausea was far worse, it was actually easier to get rid of—at least at the low level of toxicity Starforge was experiencing, having only had a moderate dose pumped into him for maybe thirty seconds. Once he threw up, he would feel better. Of course, there was still the matter of his helmet...

Briefly considering trying to unlatch it again himself, Starforge shifted his weight to free up a fore hoof. He immediately felt himself go off-balance again, and went back to standing still, waiting.

"Starforge," he heard the Inspector's voice say. The Inspector! Starforge had completely forgotten about him. He turned, and saw Loosesheaf slowly approaching him. When the fight had started, the Inspector had hurried back, out of Starforge's way.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked Starforge. He looked at the colt, furrowing his brows. Though his armor covered him from muzzle to tail, it was easy to tell that Starforge was not feeling alright. Whenever he wasn't staggering or squinting, his discomfort leaked out in other ways, such as a hung head or his enlarged pupils.

"My..." Starforge stammered. "My helmet..." He closed his eyes and hung his head towards the ground again. It would be easier for Loosesheaf to remove the helmet in that position, but it also provided faint relief from another crushing wave of nausea.

The Inspector nodded, and immediately lifted his head up. His horn glowed gently, then the latches on Starforge's helmet lit up as well. Loosesheaf worked calmly to unlatch the helmet, unfazed by its stubbornness and Starforge's uneasy swaying.

Finally, the latches gave way. Inspector Loosesheaf gently pulled the helmet off of Starforge's head, and got his first good look at the colt's face. Though it was difficult to make out, due to Starforge's dark fur color, Loosesheaf could see that the skin beneath the fur on Starforge's face was discolored.

Freed from his helmet, Starforge wasted no time. He simply stopped fighting against his stomach, and everything poured out.

"Ugh." Starforge's tongue hung out of his mouth while he closed his eyes and gently shook his head from side to side. He clamped his eyes shut even tighter, then withdrew his tongue and clenched his teeth as he slowly stopped swaying his head.

Gradually, he allowed his jaw to relax. Taking in a deep breath, he opened his eyes. On the ground, in front of him, he could see the remains of his breakfast. The foul stench was already making its way into his nostrils, assaulting his senses. Though the smell made his nose twitch, and his stomach gargled unhappily, his nausea was far more manageable—it was nothing compared to what the moderate dose of Bully had done to him.

"That stuff is vile," he spat out, finally able to speak. The Bully had been much worse than he had expected. Though he was no alchemist, Starforge resolved to adjust the formula later. There had to be something to help his body tolerate the active ingredients.

Bothered by the disgusting taste in his mouth, Starforge swallowed. Vomit residue still covered his taste buds, but he was determined to ignore it. Turning his attention to things that mattered, he looked back up to Loosesheaf. "Thank you," he said. His eyes turned to his helmet, which the Inspector was holding in the air a bit ahead and to the right of his own head.

The Inspector nodded, and moved the helmet towards Starforge. As the helmet approached, the pegasus bowed his head. Loosesheaf's sharp eyes and pinpoint control of his magic allowed him to slip the helmet into place both quickly and gently. The latches were much easier to fasten than they were to open—a sensible design decision for armor that was meant to be used in battle rather than parades.

Fully armored once again, Starforge lifted his head and turned towards the Forge house. "Are you coming with me?" he asked Loosesheaf.

"Starforge..." The Inspector walked slowly to the pegasus's side. Once he was next to him, the Inspector stood still for a moment. He briefly looked Starforge over, trying to discern his mindset, but said nothing.

"What?" Starforge spat at Loosesheaf. He turned his head to look at the Inspector, but immediately spun it back to the Forge house. Standing around outside wouldn't do any good: Beglan was inside, gathering his strength. It would take long enough to rework the crown—every second standing around gave Beglan even longer to plan.

Facing away from the Inspector, Starforge couldn't see Loosesheaf continuing to appraise him. The unicorn made no sound, preferring to simply look the colt over while trying to figure out what he was thinking. Starforge had already pleasantly surprised him a few times, but Loosesheaf wasn't a pony to leave questions unanswered.

"Do you have a plan?" he finally asked the colt.

Starforge slowly looked back towards Loosesheaf. His eyes were heavy—from the gravity of the impending challenge, not from weariness.

"Yes."

With nothing left to say, Starforge turned away. Making no noise beyond his hoof pieces crunching into the dirt, he walked to the Forge house.

The Inspector kept pace behind him, a smile growing on his face. If the first part of the plan was to not give his foe a chance to overhear it, Starforge had just pleasantly surprised him again.

---

"Well?" Starforge asked the Inspector. The Cyclopes of the Forge was laid out on the Forge's enchanting table. Starforge could not discern very much detail about what kind of sleep spell Beglan had asked for—the scholars dithered on for several pages without coming to any clear conclusions.

"This is your show, Starforge," the Inspector said. "You are the hero, and the artificer," he said, regarding Starforge with a heavy gaze. "You are the one who needs to make the decision."

Starforge's attention immediately snapped to Loosesheaf when he heard the word "hero". Because he had removed his armor so he could work, his furrowed brows and confused expression were clearly visible to the Inspector.

There were more important things to worry about. Shaking his head, Starforge again returned his attention to what mattered.

He flipped to the index at the end of the book. If he could get an idea for what kinds of spells were in common use at the time, he could at least craft a spell in a style Beglan was familiar with. His eyes first fell on the page numbers for a few of the spells that had caught his attention the first time he read the book, but the next entry promised to be even more helpful.

Self-illusion. That was close to dreams, an important part of sleep. Since the book didn't contain any actual sleeping spells, that would have to do. He turned back to the listed page with practiced hooves, and he looked the spell over.

It was sloppily crafted, but probably would have been considered cutting edge when it was made—artifice took six hundred years to catch back up to where it had been before the cataclysm at the Forge city; all of the best artificers had been lost with the city. Even when expeditions were finally launched to recover the old books, an undertaking that was only just starting when the book was published, there were no ponies able to use the more advanced spells they described.

Still, even if there was room for improvement in the spell, the real interest was in the way of thinking about magic it reflected. Not all artificers had lived at the city, after all, and the third-rate artificers that survived would have been familiar with the magical theories that were in vogue at the time. Since such poor talents rarely innovated much, Starforge could be confident that the self-illusion spell in the book used the same kind of magic Beglan might expect to see in the crown.

The loud CLAP of the book being closed echoed through the otherwise silent chamber. Closing his eyes, Starforge envisioned the spell he would need to work into the crown. It would be tougher this time, since the magic in it had already been worked into a specific form. He traced shapes on the enchanting table with his hoof as he tried to envision the spell diagram, mentally projecting it against his closed eyelids.

Inspector Loosesheaf rummaged around in his pack, drawing a bit of Starforge's attention from the necessary shape of the spell. Why did disruption chambers have to be designed after the cataclysm? Having one would make it so much easier to rework. No matter. Starforge gritted his teeth and continued his mental preparation.

"Do you need this?" The Inspector's voice had a gentle, but knowing tone to it. Starforge's eyes shot open, to see Loosesheaf offering a large sketch pad to him. The Inspector's lips were curled ever so slightly upwards in what could almost be a friendly smile.

"Yes," Starforge said. The Inspector set the pad down on the table, and offered him a pencil. "It will help a lot." He took hold of the pencil, then turned to the sketch pad. It was already open to a blank page, so he wasted no time in starting to diagram the spell.

After a few minutes of working in silence, Starforge was making good progress. The self-illusion spell in the book offered the base of the enchantment, and Starforge already knew how to let an object's user will themselves into sleep. Really, the willful waking would be the only difficult part—and Starforge was worried that without so skillful a component, the cyclops might again reject the offering. After the first battle with Beglan, Starforge was no longer certain he could force him to do anything he did not wish to do.

Lines connected circles filled with symbols for various effects, often strung together in particular orders to symbolize more complicated effects. Apprentice's notation was inefficient with its use of symbols, with any decently complicated effect needing numerous symbols, but Starforge was far more familiar with it than Master's notation.

Eventually, the pace of his scribbling slowed. The difficult part had arrived, and Starforge was taking more time to make decisions about what needed to go where in the spell. Idle hooves, combined with his worries, allowed other thoughts to seep in. Finally, he couldn't stay silent any longer.

"Inspector..." The word came out tentatively, but it was enough to get Loosesheaf's attention. Still making a show of working on the spell diagram, Starforge continued. "I know that this is all my fault." He stopped writing, and stared at the paper. Breathing in deeply, he struggled to find the courage to say the simple words he had to say.

"Thank you," he said, turning to Loosesheaf. "Thank you for helping me fix all of this."

"You do not need to thank me, Starforge," the Inspector said. "I protect ponies. We both do." He placed a comforting hoof on Starforge's shoulder, then continued. "You know," he said. "Sometimes I get things wrong too."

The Inspector's expression was serious. He removed his hoof from Starforge's shoulder. Looking Starforge directly in the eye, he finished. "The important thing is finding out how to fix your mistake."

He turned to the table for a moment, expression still showing concern. When he turned back towards Starforge, however, he had returned to his earlier expression with that small bit of cheer sneaking in. "This time, it is not too late."

"So," he said, pointing at the pad. "Are you ready?"

Starforge turned back to the pad, and began writing again. His pencil marked symbols onto the paper at a furious pace. "Almost," he said. "It will take me a couple of hours to do the re-enchanting once I'm done."

Loosesheaf nodded. "And when you are finished?"

Starforge didn't look up, and his writing didn't slow at all. "Then all that's left is Beglan's final test."

---

He had finally finished.

As he opened his eyes – for the first time in over an hour – Starforge was overcome by how bright the room was. He winced, and pulled a hoof up to cover them. It was bad enough that the concentration had given him a pounding headache—the extra sensitivity to light was just a cruel punishment heaped upon him because he had taken on such a difficult task.

Working with one of the lesser hammers, reworking the magic from an existing shape, Starforge had certainly tested the limits of his abilities. The only thing working in his favor this time was the spell diagram he had drawn. He was certain that he wouldn't have been able to succeed if he had been making up the spell as he went along.

"Artistic triumph." Starforge closed his eyes, grinned, and chuckled at himself. The ache in his head would be slow to recede, sticking around to remind of him how much he had yet to learn, but at least his eyes were adjusting to the light. He opened them back up and held the crown up over his head, admiring the way the light shined off of it.

"Even better looking the second time around." He lazily flew over to the wooden table the crown had been resting on when he and Loosesheaf had arrived. "Well," he mused. "I guess it's time to get ready for the final exam." The crown clinked gently as Starforge set it down onto the table.

The loud, slow hiss of rushing air made Starforge's ears twitch. It sounded almost exactly like the air from a forge pump passing over hot coals. Or maybe air rushing out of the bellows, into the furnace...

Starforge flapped his wings harder, gaining a bit of altitude. As soon as he was clear of the table, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his armor. The air around him ripped, and his armor rushed to his body.

Armored and ready, the colt turned around. At the foot of the staircase, at the front of the room, Beglan's imposing figure formed itself from orange smoke. Enough time had passed for the cloud to be in a concrete form, his arms and legs taking on a definite texture. Rather than hairy, like he had appeared before, the body was remaining smooth, like armor.

Instead of empty hands, Starforge could see that Beglan had brought a weapon this time. It was a hammer head stuck on a long pole. The cyclops was resting the butt of the pole on the floor, and the weapon stood almost as tall as he did.

Starforge let himself come to rest on the floor as Beglan finished materializing. The armor the giant was wearing immediately struck the pony: it was was exquisitely crafted, well-polished, and colored a dark shade of orange that reminded Starforge of a flame. The face covering on the helmet was ornately designed to look like a snarling cyclops, but looked sturdy enough to shrug off heavy blows.

Starforge had expected no less from such an esteemed blacksmith, but it was still enough to make him pause. If he was going to hurt Beglan, he'd have to hit him hard.

"Well," the colt said, finally speaking. "I guess this means I passed my re-test." He lifted his head up so he could look down his snout at the cyclops. From where he was standing, over a hundred feet away, Beglan looked small. It was an illusion, he knew that. Up close, the giant would dwarf him.

Size didn't matter though. All that mattered to Starforge was that the giant was in his way, in more ways than one. Test or not, the cyclops wasn't going to be a problem for anypony else. Not as long as he had anything to say about it.

Beglan's deep belly laugh echoed through the room. He let his weapon tilt to the side as he threw his head back, letting his contempt fill the massive chamber from floor to ceiling. The sound bounced off of polished granite walls and assaulted Starforge from all sides.

Gritting his teeth, Starforge stood firm but tense. It was vital that he not let himself be unnerved; he reminded himself over and over that there was only one Beglan, and he was standing in front of him.

The giant ceased his laughter abruptly, then slammed the butt of his weapon onto the floor. He let the resulting clack echo through the room, while standing like a statue. Starforge gulped, then took in a deep breath, but did not flinch or step back.

"My little pony!" Beglan finally called out. "That's the interesting thing about your test!" He readied his weapon, then leaned forward. "We won't find out until you've completed the second part!"

Beglan took a step forward. "Now." He stopped, and held the weapon in a defensive position in front of himself. "Crown me, if you can!"

Starforge didn't need any more invitation. Pushing off of the ground with his legs, then flapping his wings to help him, he kept his attention fixed on Beglan while he jumped backwards. After the table passed by under him, he started beating his wings in the other direction and leaned forward into a dive. He swooped over the table, grabbing the crown with his two front hooves.

He sped forward, keeping his eyes fixed on the giant at the front of the room. Beglan was deceptively quick, he knew that, but cyclopes weren't accustomed to fighting anypony as fast as they were.

Taking advantage of that fact, Starforge flew directly towards Beglan's head. He saw him raise his weapon up, preparing to strike—exactly as expected.

Just before he approached the maximum reach of Beglan's weapon, Starforge's wings spread open, greatly reducing his speed. The drop in speed came too quickly for the cyclops to react—reflexively, he swung at where he had expected Starforge to be.

His hammer swept through the air in front of Starforge, then continued on its path until it slammed into the ground. Chunks of rock and powder flew, and a surprised Beglan looked up to see Starforge picking up speed again.

The cyclops was still a trained warrior, though, and his reflexes served him well for his next move. His hammer was on far too long a pole for him to bring it up around in time to strike his target, but speed was the colt's greatest asset. A quick push forward with his hands thrust the weapon's shaft into Starforge's path, turning his own speed against him.

Starforge struck the shaft, and was thrown back by the heavy hit the cyclops had landed. The dazed pony tumbled backwards and down, until he struck the floor. The sound of his armor scraping as it slid on the smooth surface filled the room.

Loud, clanking footsteps snapped Starforge out of his stupor. Beglan was racing towards him, and pulling his hammer back for another strike.

There was no time for him to get back onto his hooves. The cyclops tensed his muscles, and threw all of his power into the swing.

Lying on the floor, Starforge looked up at the hammer. If he moved too early, Beglan could re-adjust his aim; but if he moved too late, he would be finished. A hit on his back while he was standing would waste energy pushing against his legs, but with him already flat on the stone it would all be focused into breaking him.

All fighters needed to be able to pick the right moment to make their move, but pegasi had an edge: they were built for high-speed flight. Any time a pegasus spent zipping around obstacles was just more training for their mind—transferable skills, the same as a unicorn who honed their magic on peaceful things, or an earth pony who built their strength while working on a farm.

Starforge liked to fly fast, especially if there were obstacles to dodge around. He could see the hammer coming down, and he could see when it was going to strike. Just a moment... Not too soon, not too late... At exactly the right time...

It was time to move! His wings opened wide and thrust him forward. The hammer crashed down behind him, again sending chips of granite flying everywhere.

Safe for the moment, Starforge knew he needed to go onto the offensive—he needed to be able to stand. Shoveling upwards with both of his fore legs, he tossed the crown straight towards the ceiling.

His hooves empty, Starforge sprung up from the floor. He leaned forward and pushed his hind hooves into the floor, forcing himself forward. Beglan was directly in front of him, but he needed to be just a little bit closer to the giant...

One step. Then a second. Finally, he made his third step. Above him, the pull of gravity was still working on slowing the crown's ascent. Directly in front of him, he could see Beglan's knee. There wasn't any armor in the world that could completely protect a primate's knees; none that its wearer could move in, anyway.

As he turned around, Starforge could see Beglan's weapon sweeping towards him. It would hit him, but not before he hit the cyclops. Unable to brace for the hit, Starforge leaned forward onto his fore hooves. He could see the hammer picking up speed, already so close to his face...

There was nothing he could do about it. He turned his head back so he could aim, then let his hind hooves fly at Beglan's knee.

Metal struck metal, and the loud CLANG echoed through the hall. Beglan's shout of pain was even louder, and he pulled back on his weapon as hard as he could.

The hammer struck Starforge's helmet while the colt's head was still turned around. It didn't have the mechanical advantage of the long pole behind it, but Beglan's considerable strength was enough.

His head turned away, Starforge couldn't brace against the blow. The first thing he felt was his neck stretching, his head being turned as the hammer dug into the cheek of his helmet and pushed. Before his neck broke, however, his hooves started skidding on the floor as his entire body rotated under the force of the strike.

Starforge clenched his jaw as he slid across the floor, and was spun around by the force of the blow until he faced away from Beglan. His neck hurt, like he had pulled a muscle in it. He had been hit a lot harder than he had expected, and if his armor had allowed his head to turn any further it could have been a fatal mistake.

His hooves rammed into the staircase, stopping his slide. Momentum carried him forward, and he tumbled face-first onto the first few steps. Behind him, he could hear the ring of the crown hitting the floor.

That wasn't the only sound he could hear. Ahead of him, up the stairs, he could hear what sounded like footsteps. The steps echoed loudly, with a clack behind them, like rock on rock. He could only guess what was making the steps, but whatever it was there were a lot of them, and they were close.

The first one appeared in the stairway, giving Starforge enough of a startle to make him rise to his hooves instantly. It was another construct, like the ones he had destroyed outside. At the same time, though, it was utterly unlike them. It was carved from the same kind of rock, but it was made of several pieces, and each piece was finely rounded rather than crudely chiseled.

If Beglan was getting reinforcements, then Starforge needed to end the fight immediately. Turning his back to the oncoming constructs, he raced towards the crown. Beglan stood beside it, his helmet's mask regarding Starforge with its finely wrought snarl. The strike against his knee had obviously hurt the giant: he was hunched over, holding his weapon in his left hand and his knee in his right.

Time was running out. With a bunch of constructs running around on the floor, the first hit Beglan landed that put him on the floor would be the end of it. There was no time to be fancy—there was just enough to do the job.

Halfway to the crown, Starforge opened his wings. He pulled his legs up and started flapping, flying just a foot above the floor. His face was pointed straight forward, at the crown, but his eyes were looking up at Beglan.

The giant stood back up to his full height. Still hurting, and aware he had the advantage, the cyclops was allowing himself to move slowly. There was no time for him to hit the pony with his hammer, but even delaying him by a few seconds could make all the difference. His right hand balled into a fist, and he raised it up into the air.

Starforge flapped harder. His eyes turned away from Beglan's fist, dangerous as it was, onto his target. It would be too risky to give the cyclops a chance to get a grip on his weapon, so that crown had to be in his hooves on the first pass.

His hooves clamped onto the crown. The crown was tough, so there was no point in being gentle—Starforge squeezed it as hard as he could. He didn't want to lose his grip on it, and he was about to exert a lot of force.

One minor adjustment of his wings was all it took. In the blink of an eye he went from skimming above the floor to flying straight up towards the ceiling. The crown, with all of its own magic, violently resisted the magical force that allowed pegasi to change their course so radically. It tried desperately to continue flying on the horizontal path, even as Starforge's hooves tried to fly on the new, vertical path.

Held fast between two hooves, the crown wrenched but didn't slip. Starforge's eyes searched the air in front of him—he couldn't see Beglan's fist anymore. If he couldn't see it, that meant it was already behind him. Knowing there was nothing else he could do, he gritted his teeth and braced himself, hoping the strike came too late.

Beglan was moving more quickly than Starforge had thought. Before he could reach the giant's head, he felt the impact of a heavy gauntlet slamming into his back. Angled down and across, the blow sent Starforge tumbling to the ground again, skidding away from his foe.

As he flapped his wings to raise himself above the floor, Starforge threw a quick glance back over his shoulder. The first of the constructs had reached the Forge chamber, and there were at least eight more behind it that he could see. Time had just about run out. Either he crowned Beglan right away, or every time Beglan sent him to the floor he'd be at risk of being grabbed and pinned.

Seemingly oblivious to the danger that Beglan's hammer posed, Starforge flew straight at the giant's head. Both fighters keenly watched the space between them that marked where the range of the giant's weapon met the pony's path. Beglan's grip on his hammer tightened, and Starforge gritted his teeth. There was no room for error for either of them.

Beglan's hammer began to move. Coming down, it was already moving quickly. Starforge was faster, though: with another adjustment of his wings, he changed his course. As he sped around the giant, he could feel the gentle tingle of the magical field his armor and Beglan's hammer generated as they passed within inches of each other at such a high speed.

Once he was behind Beglan, Starforge leaned left and instantly reversed his turn. He would only have perhaps a second to—

He could feel a hard piece of metal slamming into his right wing, crushing it against his armor. All of his questions about how the cyclops could have possibly adjusted his grip, then turned around, so quickly would have to wait. He could feel the sensitive skin of his wing being crushed under the hammer, but he could also feel the force of the strike following through the wing into his back, battering his muscle and rattling his bones.

Starforge slammed into the floor, his armor ringing as it struck the stone. His belly plate scraped against the granite until he was stopped by hitting the first step up to the Forge platform.

The pain of his wing being crushed had turned his vision white, and sent his heart beating what felt like at least three times each second. Not that he could even begin to try to count his heart beats, with the agonizing pain tearing through his wing.

He could feel his armor digging into his back, where Beglan had dented it. Trying to force the pain out of his mind, Starforge instead thought about how he would fix his armor later. He knew he would need tools... Something, he would need...

His right fore hoof clapped determinedly on the floor. Defiantly, he raised his head. Through the haze of pain, he could make out Beglan and his constructs as they slowly approached him.

Gritting his teeth, he clapped his left fore hoof onto the floor and pushed up. Tentatively, he stretched his wing. Another sharp burst of pain shot through it, and he buckled under the pain.

"Starforge!" Seeing that Beglan and his minions were not stopping their approach of the injured colt, Inspector Loosesheaf began galloping from the side wall where he had been watching. Starforge could see his horn glowing, and his head turned towards the constructs, as if mentally probing them for weakness.

"No!" Starforge called out. The Inspector immediately turned his head towards the colt, his eyebrows raised. The glow on his horn dimmed, but did not disappear, and his place slowed to a gentle trot.

Taking a deep breath, Starforge forced both of his hind hooves to stand. He wasn't hurt... Everything was fine, he kept reminding himself. He was stuck on the ground, but that didn't mean he couldn't fight. He had done it before, and looking up at Beglan's grotesque face mask he was determined to do it again.

"Let them through!" His voice betrayed only a little bit of the pain still shooting from his wing and his back. He couldn't fly, but his legs were working just fine.

Inspector Loosesheaf's eyebrows widened, but he nodded. The glow around his horn dimmed, then vanished entirely. His gaze softened to his old, familiar observer's face, and he stopped his trot.

Beglan and the constructs were close, maybe just ten feet away. They moved confidently, like the fight was already over. Starforge took in another deep breath. It wasn't a fight, though, it was more like a game.

Hunching over, he tried to look the part of a vanquished competitor. It was easier to fake than he might have preferred to admit, with the tennis ball-sized dent in his armor digging into his back and his wing throbbing every time his over-excited heart beat. Keeping his eyes locked on Beglan's, he felt around on the ground until he had his hoof on the crown. The giant was eight feet away: just a little bit closer...

"Well?" Beglan asked as his foot fell yet again. There was an imperious tone in his voice. He held his hammer close to his chest, where it was easy to carry and could be hefted up for another swing quickly, and approached Starforge as a conquering warrior.

Five feet.

Starforge pushed the crown onto its rim, then flung it up at Beglan's face plate with a quick flick of his hoof.

Startled by the sudden – and unexpected – movement, Beglan acted instinctively: he reached a hand out to catch the valuable magical artifact.

As soon as he threw the crown, Starforge sprang from his position at one of Beglan's constructs. He pushed off of the floor with all of his might. Seeing the pony leaping directly at it, the construct stopped—if the colt wished to approach it, then moving its own feet was a waste. Instead, it began to lift its arms. If Starforge was within range, the next thing for it to do would be grab him.

It was quick enough to manage to make the grab, but not strong enough to do anything with it. Gritting his teeth, Starforge brought his hind hooves up to the statue's shoulders, as if he were climbing it, in one fluid motion. Sensing itself starting to topple under the weight, it staggered backwards and threw its arms forward in an attempt to counter its target's attempt to trample it.

But that wasn't Starforge's goal. As soon as his hind hooves were firmly on the construct's shoulders, he twisted to the right. He had managed to complete his jump quickly: the crown was still out of the giant's grip. Beglan's face plate wore its perpetual snarl, but with his head angled slightly to the side he was clearly confused.

Realization dawned on him as Starforge leapt off of his construct. The force of the jump finally knocked the thing to the ground, and the pony soared upwards towards his own target: Beglan's head.

Too late, Beglan turned his attention back to his weapon. As he pulled his hand back to its position on the pole, the crown struck the back of his gauntlet.

Touching down on the giant's shoulders, Starforge reached out a fore hoof and grabbed the crown. Triumphantly, he lifted his hoof up and brought it arcing down, slamming the crown triumphantly onto Beglan's helmeted head with a dull CLINK that echoed through the chamber.

Game point.

With the contest decided, all of the constructs halted their movements and stood still. Even Beglan relaxed his stance, releasing all of the tension of the now-completed contest. He set his hammer standing up at his side again, as he had appeared at the beginning.

Relieved, Starforge hopped back down to the floor. The armor's hoof pieces clattered loudly as they struck the floor unevenly. His right fore hoof was the first to hit, and his elbow buckled a little bit before his left hoof also touched down. Finally, his two hind hooves hit the floor. The landing was anything but graceful, but he was able to find his footing and keep his balance.

Inspector Loosesheaf stepped slowly towards Starforge, though his eyes were fixed on Beglan. The cyclops stood in his relaxed stance—not rigidly, but firmly enough that when the pony had hopped off of his shoulders he had barely swayed backwards. He made no move to strike the victorious colt while his back was turned, though, so the Inspector eventually forced himself to suppress his wariness.

Wordlessly, he approached Starforge's right flank. His wing had taken a direct hit, and the Inspector would have forgiven anypony's hyperbole if they had called it "mangled": it certainly looked painful, and was already swelling. Still, it would heal itself in time.

The thunder of footsteps startled both ponies. Loosesheaf was already facing the right direction, and saw it first, but Starforge turned his aching body around to see it as well: the constructs had all started moving at once, headed for the rear of the Forge chamber, away from the ponies.

A gentle hiss called both ponies' attention to Beglan. His armor was giving off a dark orange smoke, as if it were burning up without any flame. The burning sped up, and the hammer and armor both rapidly dissolved into a cloud of smoke. Finally, the cloud itself vanished, leaving Beglan standing before the two ponies, unadorned except for the crown Starforge had placed onto his head.

For a moment he simply stood, as if pondering something. Seeing no danger, Starforge reached a hoof back and unlatched his helmet. He set it down on the floor in front of himself, and looked back up to the cyclops.

Beglan finally saw fit to speak. "This effort is..." He searched for the right word. "Most acceptable." His eyes closed, as if he were trying to sense the crown's entire aura. Opening his eyes again, he looked down at Starforge and smiled. Whatever grudge he had harbored against Starforge seemed to be gone.

"Very well, colt," he said. "You have proven yourself both skilled and determined, and I accept your earlier proposition: the small ones may once again take up residence in the city ring, and I shall instruct you so that you may become the new Forge Master."

Starforge bowed his head slightly, ignoring the ache in his neck it caused. "Thank you, Beglan," he said. Raising his head back up, an effort which strained his neck just as much, he smiled slightly. "I hope there will be some time for me to rest, before we begin."

"Time for you to rest, yes," Beglan said with a nod. The giant yawned. "And time for me to rest as well." He started walking towards the rear of the chamber, where the constructs had marched to.

Something made him stop. He raised his hand up to his chin, then scratched it for a good while before he turned back around.

"Your passion print," he said, sounding half-asleep already. The giant pointed to Starforge's flank, where his cutie mark was covered up by his armor. "It's of his war hammer, you know."

He stretched himself, yawning the whole time, then continued his walk. The hiss began, and Starforge could see the orange smoke rising off of him. It rapidly dissolved the cyclops, until he was gone.

"Carry on with your adventures, Starforge." He could hear Beglan's voice in his mind. "I will find you when is time for your first lesson."

Starforge closed his eyes and tilted his head back until he was facing the ceiling. His entire body ached from the effort he had put into that trial, and he just wanted to rest.

He opened his eyes and turned down to his legs. Using his mouth, he unbuckled his leg armor, then proceeded to remove the rest of his armor piece by piece.

When he was finished, he laid down and rested his chin on his fore leg. He took a deep breath, held it for a while, then exhaled. When Loosesheaf stepped to his side, Starforge turned and looked up at the Inspector.

"I guess this complicates my enlistment, doesn't it?" he asked.

Loosesheaf didn't say anything, but stepped forward until he was a few feet in front of Starforge. He rested himself on the floor, so he wouldn't be towering over Starforge, with a serene look on his face.

"Actually," he began. "I had already decided to annul your enlistment." Starforge gently cocked his head to the right, but said nothing. "Even if I do not, my superiors will do it themselves after I report what you have done here."

Starforge took a moment to let those words sink in. The problems of the morning seemed so far away, almost like they had happened to somepony else.

"I'll confess," he finally said. "You really caught me off-guard with the inquisition."

Loosesheaf's lips curled upwards in a gentle smirk. "I will take that as a compliment. I was trying very hard to get a reaction out of you." After a moment, his eyes turned back to Starforge's wound. "So, how is your wing?"

Starforge turned to look at his wing. He gently tried to move it, but could feel the pain starting before he could even get it to twitch.

"It's been better."

Loosesheaf nodded, then stood up. "I will go fire off a signal spell," he said. A couple of guard pegasi would be able to carry them back much more quickly than they could walk. Everypony, townsponies and pangutans alike, would want to hear the good news as soon as possible.

Starforge closed his eyes as the Inspector walked up the stairs. Beglan had called it an "adventure." Letting himself drift off to sleep, Starforge certainly agreed with him.

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[Tetrominon]

"Loosesheaf, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."