The Jester and the Thief

Rarity listened in the silence, perfectly still. The cell floor was cool beneath her hooves. A fly buzzed around the tray of featureless gruel next to the door. The guards were gone. “So, how do we get out of here?” Applejack said from a cell down the hall, shattering her concentration.

“Already in the process,” Rarity said, flicking free a dagger carefully hidden in the well-groomed hairs of her tail. She picked it up, handling it awkwardly in her hoof. The Flaming Wing mercenaries had fastened a suppressor around her horn to block her magic.

Rarity wedged her dagger beneath the suppressor on her horn. She gritted her teeth and, using the frame of a cot as a fulcrum, pressed on the hilt with her hoof. Pain shot down the length of her horn. Whimpering, she eased the pressure. Come on, Rarity. You’ve done this before, she told herself.

Her eyes clenched tight, she shoved her free foreleg into her mouth and pressed on the dagger as hard as she could. The suppressor popped off as a pin holding it shut shattered. The metal cylinder hit the wall of her dank cell with a ping and clattered to the floor. Gasping, she spat her foreleg out, a row of teeth marks etched into her fur and skin.

Her horn free, she reached out with her magic to the manacles binding her legs together. She probed the familiar structure of the locks holding them shut, found the pin, and popped them open. Good, she thought, everything is working.

As she stood and turned toward the door, Pinkie Pie pressed her face up against the bars of her cell across the hall. “You’re out!” she cried.

“Pinkie, shhh,” Rarity hissed. “The guards could hear.”

Rarity focused on the door and pictured the lock. She formed a key with her mind and turned it. Unsecured, her cell door slowly swung open, accompanied by the squeak of a rusty hinge. She crossed to Pinkie’s cell and unlocked the door.

“You’ve gotta help Twilight,” Pinkie whispered.

Rarity stepped into Pinkie’s cell. “It’s been hours,” she said in a hushed tone. “A few more seconds won’t hurt. I’ll need your help to get everypony out.” With a thought, she unlocked the manacles restraining Pinkie. “You and I are going to sneak out of here, then come for the others.”

“But—” Pinkie protested, a little too loud.

Rarity silenced Pinkie by shoving a hoof in her mouth. “Sit tight. I’m going to get the suppressor off Twilight.”

She turned, her hooves hardly making a sound on the stone floor as she gracefully slipped out of the cell and down the corridor. She passed the the cells containing Applejack, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash. “Pinkie and I need to get out without them realizing we’re gone until they check the cells in the morning. Don’t worry, we’ll be back,” Rarity said. They nodded.

She paused in front of the cell with the unconscious lavender unicorn on a flimsy, flea-ridden cot. A metal cylinder on Twilight’s horn glinted in the soft silver glow filtering in through a miniscule barred window set high in the wall. No tray, she noticed. She thought back, counting the number of trays she’d heard the guards set down – five, one to few. Are they going to feed her? she wondered. She wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t; Twilight was in no condition to eat.

Twilight had reacted poorly to the suppressor. At first, she had twitched and squirmed in her sleep. Once, she even shattered her suppressor with a surge of magical power, sending metal fragments into the eye of the guard carrying her, and had been briefly conscious until the suppressor was replaced. Now, she lay still as the grave, the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed shallowly the only sign that she was alive. No time like the present, Rarity thought, clicking the locked door open.

She moved into the cell and stopped by the cot. Twilight looked at peace; Rarity had never seen her like this before. Twilight was unlike any unicorn she’d ever known. Every unicorn had some connection to magic, but Twilight lived in it, and when she was cut off from it, she slowly slipped away. Twilight wielded magic like another pony would wield a hammer; brutal and efficient. Spells that seemed to strain Twilight a week ago appeared simple for her now.

Rarity removed Twilight’s suppressor, unlocking it with her magic. She set the cylinder on the mattress. Twilight looked as still as she had been before. Her coat was mussed. Flecks of blood stained her cheek from when she’d put out the eye of the Flaming Wing soldier carrying her. Rarity gently caressed Twilight’s cheek with a hoof, wiping away the dried blood.

“Come on, Twilight, wake up,” she whispered.

Twilight’s eyes fluttered open. She looked up and murmured, “Rarity?”

Rarity nodded. “Quiet now, Twilight,” she whispered as she lowered her hoof. She floated up her free dagger and scored it through the runes lining the inside of the suppressor, deactivating it, and snapped the locking pin, ensuring that it could easily be removed.

“It shouldn’t work quite so well anymore. I’m going to need to put this back on you, or else they’ll put another one on. Are you ready?” Rarity said softly.

Twilight gulped as she nodded and closed her eyes. Rarity clasped the broken suppressor around her horn. When it did nothing, Twilight breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Rarity heard a hoofstep. Her ears perked. Glancing through the steel bars of the door, she raised a hoof to her lips. Voices echoed from outside the cell.

“Mind if I take the food?” the first, a mare, said.

So they are going to feed her, Rarity thought. She flicked her second dagger from her tail and levitated it beside her, preparing for the worse.

“Would you? You’re a godsend. My shift was about to end, this is the last tray, and I’d like to stay as far away from that purple unicorn as possible. Did you hear she broke a suppressor? Isn’t that supposed to be impossible?” a second voice, male, answered.

“She did it; I was there. How do you think I got this bandage?” the first speaker said.

Rarity moved to the cell door. She hid beside it and gently swung it shut. With her magic, she locked it. She considered the best way to incapacitate one of the guards. I don’t have many options, she realized.

“This whole thing is weird... she’s been in a coma since they brought her in. They’re not supposed to react like that,” the second speaker said. “Say... you sure you’re supposed to be on duty? That looks pretty bad...”

“I’m not... I’m gonna take her eye, just in case she makes it,” the mare said. Rarity could hear the spite rolling off her tongue.

“Ah, gotcha... well, take the tray, I didn’t hear nuthin’,” the stallion said. The clop of hooves ascended a stone staircase, but a second set of hooves moved down, drawing ever closer.

The mare whistled a soft tune as she closed in on the cell door. Keys jingled. Rarity lurked in the shadows, waiting, listening. The mare set down a tray and missed the lock with her key, ramming it against the metal beside the keyhole. “Dammit,” the mare muttered.

She got it on her second try, and the door swung open. Rarity waited, holding her breath. The mare’s hooves clicked as she stepped through the door, and Rarity saw the profile of her face.

‘Right below the ear, at the base of the skull is the sweet spot. You sever the spine from the skull, and they go out like a light.’

Rarity waited, weighing her options.

“You’re pretty... this is going to be a shame,” the mare said, eyeing Twilight. Steel glinted as she drew a dagger from a sheath at her shoulder. “I’m going to give you a sc—”

Rarity drove her dagger into the sweet spot. In the blink of an eye, it was over. She caught the body in her levitation, easing it to the floor, and slid her dagger free. She shoved the body under the cot.

“They shoulda put a suppressor on you too...” Twilight whispered, managing a small smile.

Rarity grinned. “Oh, they did. First thing I did once they were gone was pry it off,” she said. “Now, Twilight, you’ll have to work some wizardry to hide this body, when you’re feeling up to it. You have a few hours before another guard comes down here.” She eyed Twilight. Her friend still looked drained. Once she’s back in the game, this prison won’t hold her, Rarity thought.

“You’re probably in no condition for casting now, but when you’re recovered, don’t cast an Invisibility spell and try to escape,” Rarity said. “You need to sit tight while I arrange somewhere safe for us, or we’ll be running through the streets chased by the entire Flaming Wing.” She stepped back toward the open door. “Bide, Twilight... and remember, you’re in a coma. Pinkie and I will be back soon.”

She hoped Twilight would have the sense to listen.

The stairway leading up from the cells ended in a locked door. A voice filtered through a small barred window set into the thick wood at eye level. “She isn’t back yet?”

The legs of a chair scraped against the stone floor. “Maybe we should check on her,” a second voice said.

Rarity took a position beside the door and gave Pinkie a small nod. Pinkie touched her side, indicating she was ready. Rarity clicked the door open and slipped the room. One of the pegasus guards rising from his seat looked at her, his eyes widening. She closed her eyes and focused, her magic jumping to her. A nova of light flared on the tip of her horn.

The guards shouted in surprise. As Rarity opened her eyes, A pink blur moved past her. With her magic shoes, Pinkie ran up the wall. While the guards recovered from the Flare, Pinkie dropped on them from above and landed on the table. She grabbed both of their heads and slammed their faces into the table. They slumped to the floor, groaning, with blood trickling from their noses.

Rarity looked around the room. She found fabric tabards for protecting metal armor from the elements folded in a corner. One of them tried to rise, and Pinkie smashed her hoof into his jaw. His head snapped to the side and he fell back to the floor. Whimpering, he held his chin in his forehooves. Blood oozed from his split lip.

“Quiet, and stay down, or we won’t play nice,” Rarity said, brandishing her daggers.

Rarity passed the tabards to Pinkie, knotting them together as makeshift bindings. Together, they gagged and tied the guards. A single door led further into the Flaming Wing’s fortress. She’d been lead this way before, and caught peeks of her surroundings under her blindfold. Off to the side down the hall would be a storage room where they could stash the two bound guards.

Few ponies moved in the fortress at night. Rarity and Pinkie slipped between them, their hooffalls ghostly quiet even in the stillness. Rarity led them up a staircase. There, at the end of the hall, she spotted what she was looking for: an unbarred window. She paused at a corner, checking for movement, and finding none, moved to the window. She unlatched the shutters and opened it.

The street outside the fortress was three stories beneath them. Pinkie reached out a hoof and smiled. With a dramatic sigh, Rarity took Pinkie’s hoof, and together, they exited into the night.

In a dirty Manehattan alley, Rarity snatched a grey blanket off a clothesline. She set to work, converting the blanket into a pair of cloaks with her daggers, her magic, and a bit of thread scavenged from a quilt. “How’re we going to get them out?” Pinkie asked.

“I don’t know,” Rarity said.

“You said—” Pinkie protested.

Rarity held up a hoof. “I don’t know yet.” She smiled. “But I have a few ideas. The first thing we’ll need to do is steal some bits.”

Rarity held up the cloaks, whipping them through the air. Satisfied, she draped one of the garments over her shoulders and passed the other to Pinkie. The makeshift cloaks would make them look like beggars or urchins, but at least the hoods would help hide their faces.

“Steal?” Pinkie frowned. “Are you sure we should be doing that?”

Rarity sighed. “Look, Pinkie, it’s not like we have a choice. Besides, if we steal from the right ponies, it isn’t so bad.”

Pinkie pulled the cloak around her shoulders. “In Ponyville before we met, that was us. Who is it this time?”

Rarity closed her eyes and hung her head. “When we first met, I’d fallen back on old habits. I didn’t see any other choices.” She focused on Pinkie. “Now, I have a choice, and I plan to make the best of it.”

Pinkie nodded. “I think I understand.”

By dawn, Rarity had navigated to the docks district. In the early hours of the morning, she and Pinkie lurked on the outskirts of a crowd gathered below a wooden platform, their hoods pulled over their faces. A pony and a zebra in chains stood on the platform.

“Sold! To the Lady with the white rose on her hat!” an auctioneer in a suit barked. “Those two will make a fine pair of kitchen slaves!”

Rarity slipped through the crowd, Pinkie on her heels, making her way toward the back of the platform. The two individuals in chains were lead off the platform, their heads hung low, and their spirits broken. Rarity wondered if debt or war had forced them into bondage.

As Rarity edged around the side of the platform, the buyer met her two new slaves at the base. She wore a fashionable hat, unblemished except for a minor stain. A burly earth pony accompanied her to lead them home. As the auctioneer shouted, “Now, if that’s not your speed, we have a pair of slaves fresh off the boat from the faraway shores of Francia more suited to manual labor!” the buyer passed an assistant a pouch brimming with golden bits.

With a smile and a nod, the assistant unlocked a chest and poured the bits into it. Rarity eyed a second chest behind the platform. She hoped it was full.

Four ponies hauled a pair of huge, muscular diamond dogs in chains up onto the platform. One of the ponies fastened the manacles around their feet to the platform with a heavy metal stake. Their hands and feet were wrapped in thick fabric to prevent them from using their claws. The gathered buyers cooed in appreciation. “These dogs have been well broken by the griffons, I can assure you. Opening bid is five hundred bits each!” the auctioneer shouted.

One of the diamond dogs raised his head and growled. “If little pony try to control Rotgrub, Rotgrub break pony!” He gnashed his teeth.

The auctioneer chuckled nervously. Nopony raised their hoof to bid. “Two hundred bits?”

“Pinkie, distraction,” Rarity hissed.

Pinkie nodded and moved toward the stage. Rarity went for the chest behind the platform. As shouts of surprise filled her ears, she unlocked the chest. She opened a burlap sack and syphoned golden coins from the chest into it.

As she filled the sack, somepony shouted, “Stop her!” Rarity looked around, but nopony was looking at her. All eyes were on the stage. The auctioneer flew off the platform and landed on his nose beside her. Above, Pinkie ducked a pony trying to grab her and threw him over her shoulder. He landed in a pile with the auctioneer. With a powerful blow, Pinkie kicked the stake pinning the diamond dog’s chains to the stage free.

Rarity hurriedly scooped the last bit of coins into the sack and pulled it shut. Pinkie, that wasn’t the plan! she thought. The sack of golden bits was too heavy to carry easily in her levitation, so she picked it up in her mouth and swung it over her shoulder onto her back.

Dragging chains, the two diamond dogs jumped off the platform and landed beside her, their powerful hind legs coiling. “Get their chains off!” Pinkie shouted.

Rarity hesitated a moment. To either side, ponies tasked with facilitating the slave auction closed in on the diamond dogs. It didn’t look like anypony had even noticed her theft. She could disappear in the chaos.

‘A good thief never has to run, because they’re gone before anypony realizes something is missing.’

Snorting, Rarity lit her horn and unlocked the diamond dog’s chains. “Run!” she shouted around the sack in her mouth.

She aimed for an alley between two warehouses and tried to launch into a gallop. With the coins on her back, she barely managed a fast trot. She glanced over her shoulder.

Pinkie jumped off the platform, landing lightly. She slipped under another pony trying to catch her, tripped her assailant, and galloped after Rarity. As their chains fell away, the two diamond dogs ripped off the fabric covering their claws and held them threateningly. The ponies closing in on them hesitated.

As Pinkie caught up to her, Rarity cleared the alley. The street on the far side ran along the waterfront, past a row of warehouses. She focused forward, and ran as fast as she could down the street. She knew at this pace they weren’t going to escape. I have to drop it, she thought. She scowled, the bitter taste of the dirty sack on her tongue. Because she couldn’t stick to the plan, we’ll have no coin and nothing to get the Thieves Guild’s attention!

She heard heavy steps behind her, getting closer. She opened her mouth, releasing the sack. Something caught it before it could tumble off her back and land in the street. Rarity shrieked as a limb wrapped around her midriff.

After a twist and a whirl through the air, Rarity found herself on the back of a hulking beast tearing down the street on all fours. “Horn pony too slow,” the diamond dog grunted. Rarity wrapped her hooves around his neck and clung for dear life. She noticed the other diamond dog beside them, carrying the sack of coin.

Down an alley to their left, a side door to a bland warehouse opened. Rarity glimpsed a pony in a black cloak standing in the entrance. She pointed down the alley. “There!”

Pinkie and the two diamond dogs turned sharply, gouging at the street for traction. They ducked down the alley through the door into the darkness inside the warehouse. The door slammed shut behind them.

Rarity’s heart raced as the diamond dog gently set her down. She blinked, her eyes adjusting the dim light inside. She made out shapes around them. “I never expected to see the White Widow here in Manehattan,” a stallion said with a chuckle. “I also never expected to see her get caught.”

In the center of the warehouse, under the light of a warm oil lamp, Rarity dipped a chunk of bread into a bowl of watery soup. She ate ravenously, chewing down the bread and slurping at the soup. Her empty stomach demanded she abandon her dignity for the moment. Pinkie tore into her own food beside her.

A dark grey pegasus with a two-toned silver mane sat across from her, watching her patiently. A ropey scar ran down the left side of his face, passing under a firmly secured eyepatch. He wore a pair of worn wingblades with a jagged, notched edge.

“You know you can’t steal without giving the guild a cut,” the pegasus said as Rarity finished off her chunk of bread. “Besides, I heard rumors the White Widow was playing shopkeeper somewhere. Why come here? Why not go back to Canterlot? What are you doing here?”

Rarity looked up from her soup. “I’ll give you half of what I stole, and I’ll keep my secrets.”

“I would like to work with you, but the problem is, those slave traders were paying protection,” the pegasus said. “A younger White Widow built a reputation for stirring up trouble with slave traders, and I can’t have a rogue element running around causing us problems. I know you’re in a tough spot, with the arrest and all, but surely you can understand my position.”

Rarity swallowed slowly, glancing at the cloaked figures around them. At least four guild members sat on crates of stolen goods, each with a weapon. Rarity wondered how many Pinkie could handle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’m not interested in causing you trouble.”

“Fair enough. We’ll take half your coin,” the pegasus said, gesturing at the two diamond dogs behind Rarity, “and the two slaves.”

‘You have to show that you’re not weak, that you’re prepared to kill. Don’t let yourself get pushed around.’

The diamond dogs growled. Rarity lunged, pulling a dagger. In an instant, her blade was at the pegasus’s throat. She twisted his ear in her levitation and hissed, “They aren’t slaves! You’ll take half the coin, and I won’t take your other eye.”

The pegasus chuckled. “I see the Widow hasn’t lost her edge. Come on, relax, we’re friends here.” He smiled. “As it turns out, the traders missed a payment. We can call this their punishment.”

Rarity slowly pulled her dagger back. “I hear you have a tunnel in Manehattan, Smuggler’s Way; I want access.”

“Sure thing. It’s open to anyone in our little family.” The pegasus tapped his hoof on the floor. “Rat!”

A scrawny earth pony barely into her adolescence hopped down off a crate. She stepped up to the pegasus with the eyepatch. The pegasus whispered something in her ear, and she nodded. She turned to Rarity. “I’ll show you the way,” she said.

Smuggler’s Way was precisely what Rarity expected, a broad tunnel that cut through central Manehattan functioning as a causeway for illicit trade. She’d heard about the place from her Manehattan contacts. She kept her sack of coins tightly shut, and a wary eye out for pickpockets, but with the two diamond dogs at her side, they stayed clear.

The two hulking dogs barely said a word, but they stayed with them. With the diggers as allies, and access to the tunnels, a plan came to mind. She hoped one of the passages that wasn’t collapsed or flooded ran near the Flaming Wing’s fortress.

They stopped at a widening of the tunnel, where two platforms spread out to either side of the main passage. Rat didn’t seem to know the original purpose of the platforms, but now vendors occupied them, fencing illicit goods, or simply offering a bite to eat.

When they had a moment, Rarity snached Rat’s foreleg and glared. “I know the Fox up there sent you to keep an eye on us, not to guide us,” Rarity said, using the name for guild masters. The young pony cringed. “But I’m not going to hurt you. I need your help. Do you have a coinpurse?”

Rat nodded, holding up a small bag.

“I need you to get me a map of the underground and information on the Duchesses. Can you do that?” Rarity said.

Rat nodded again.

Rarity passed her ten golden bits, far more than would be needed. “Keep the change.” Rat stuffed the bits into her coinpurse, and disappeared into the throng of ponies. I hope I haven’t made a mistake by trusting her, Rarity thought.

Almost as soon as Rat was gone, Pinkie asked, “What’s going on, Rarity? What’s this about you being the White Widow?”

Rarity sighed. She turned to the diamond dogs. “Could you give us a moment?” she asked politely. They nodded.

Rarity grabbed Pinkie by the foreleg and guided her into a spot between two support columns. The sounds echoing within the confined space around them would mask their conversation. She dropped onto her haunches and glared at Pinkie. “You should have followed the plan,” Rarity said.

“I distracted them, didn’t I?!” Pinkie protested. “And now we’ve got two new friends. Freeing them was the right thing to do!”

Rarity opened her mouth to argue, but she couldn’t think of a sensible rebuttal. “You know what, you’re right. And it all worked out, in the end,” she finally said. “I think they can help us.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” Pinkie said.

“I spent a while working with the Thieves Guild in Canterlot. You could say I built up a bit of a reputation.” Rarity frowned. “It’s not a time I like to talk about.”

Pinkie smiled. “That’s fine. So, how do we free the others?”

Rarity blinked, not expecting Pinkie to be satisfied with her answer. “We have the diamond dogs tunnel in at night; that’s what the map was for. I’m hoping we can find a good spot,” Rarity said. “But, before we get them out, I need to talk to some old friends. We’re going to need somewhere to lie low once we’re all free.”

“Why’d you ask for information on the Duchesses?” Pinkie asked.

“I’m hoping one of them will listen to us and help us clear our name,” Rarity said.

Somepony tapped her on the shoulder. Rarity turned to see Rat holding a booklet and a folded map. “That was quick,” Rarity said.

Rat pointed at a stall on the far platform with a collection of written materials on display. “Information broker.”

Rarity leaned down until she was eye level with Rat. “You know how else you can earn some bits?”

Rat looked at her expectantly.

Rarity passed Rat another five golden bits. “Pretend you lost us.”

“Hold on,” Pinkie said with a smile as Rat took the money. “What’s your name? It’s not really Rat, is it?”

Rat stopped mid step. “My parents called me Lily. They aren’t around anymore.” She disappeared into the crowd a moment later.

Rarity smiled softly. I wasn’t very different from her, once, she thought. She wished she could have given Rat more, but she didn’t have enough bits to throw around.

Rarity tapped the wall of a deserted side passage. She floated the map in front of her, checking it. The sketch of the tunnels was overlaid with the streets and landmarks above, including the Flaming Wing fortress. “This is the spot,” Rarity announced.

One of the diamond dogs set down a sack of provisions in the tunnel: fresh water and food. “Which way do we dig?”

Rarity sighed. “That’s... something I don’t know yet.” There was no way of knowing exactly what angle would lead them to the cell block her friends were in. “But, I know how to figure it out.” She turned to the two diamond dogs with a smile. “Thank you, again, for agreeing to help us.”

The pair dipped their heads in a respectful bow. “You set us free. We are in your debt, pony,” one of them said.

Rarity shook her head. “That was Pinkie Pie, not me. You should be thanking her.”

“You could have slipped away, Rotgrub noticed it, but you freed us from our chains. You gave us the chance to fight. You have courage, pony, and we will repay that in any way we can,” the other said.

Rarity smiled again, extending her hoof. “I’m Rarity, and this is—”

“Pinkie Pie!” Pinkie said loudly before Rarity could finish.

The first took her hoof gently in his paw, careful not to cut her with his claws, and shook it. “Rotgrub.” He gestured at the other diamond dog. “Tenderfoot, my brother.”

Rarity placed her hoof back on the ground. “We need to go up to the surface for a while. I’m sorry we can’t bring you; you’d draw too much attention.”

Rotgrub nodded. “We understand. We’ll wait here, rest.”

A bell rang as Rarity passed through the front door of a small establishment in an upscale district on a hill overlooking the bay, Pinkie a step behind her. Lush carpet compressed beneath her worn, chipped hooves. She breathed in the scent of soap. It’s been too long since I’ve been to a place like this, she thought.

A few seconds later, a pony walked out from the back rooms and stood behind the counter. “‘Scuse me, misses. We do not accept vagabonds in this establishment.”

Rarity tipped back her hood. “Lotus, it’s Rarity.”

Lotus stared at her. “Rarity! I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you! You look, well...”

Rarity smiled. “I understand.”

Lotus stepped out from behind the counter. “It’s been so long. Since Canterlot, right?”

Rarity nodded. “Yes, just letters since then.”

“What’re you doing in Manehattan?” Lotus asked.

“Long story,” Rarity said. “I need a few things, and I’m hoping you can help me out. First, we both need to look presentable.”

Lotus awkwardly shuffled. “You um... can pay? Right?”

‘Friendship valued in gold is worth nothing but dust.’

Rarity gave Lotus a warm smile, past a twinge of annoyance. “Of course.” She opened her sack, giving Lotus a peek inside.

Lotus returned her smile with a friendly grin. “We’re just finishing up an appointment. We’ll be with you in a few minutes. Have a seat.” She disappeared through a satin curtain into the back rooms.

“What is this place? What are we doing here? We should be getting our friends out of prison!” Pinkie hissed as soon as Lotus was out of sight.

Rarity eased herself into a cushioned seat along the wall, glad to be off her feet. “This is a spa. We’re here because we need to find a shop that sells magic scrolls and it’s a lot easier for a pony that looks like a merchant to move around the streets than one that looks like a tramp. It was hard enough dodging the Flaming Wing between here and the tunnels. They’re out in force. If we get a good bath, a nice hat, and wear something that hides our marks, they won’t look twice at us,” Rarity quietly answered. “That, and this is the place we’re going to rest up and lie low once we get the others out.”

“Here?” Pinkie asked.

“Last I heard, they had some rooms upstairs. Twilight needs a place like this. Do you see how tightly wound that filly is? If she goes much longer without a break, she’s going to snap.”

Pinkie’s ears flattened back, and she glared at Rarity. “Twilight isn’t going to snap! She’s got it under control.”

Rarity frowned. “Sometimes I think she was better off when she had a wall between her and the world. A wizard like her...”

“So you’d just leave her in a cage?” Pinkie asked.

Rarity shook her head. “You know that’s not what I meant. We’re getting her out.”

“That’s not what I meant either,” Pinkie said. “You’re afraid of her.”

Rarity sighed. “I’m afraid for her.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You have to understand, Pinkie, wizards are a special breed to begin with. Most unicorns use magic on instinct, with a limited repertoire of spells. For me, casting magic is like flexing a muscle. I know a bit of arcana, enough to know a few tricks like how to cast spells from scrolls, but nothing like Twilight.”

Pinkie nodded. “Twilight’s different.”

“A long time ago, I worked with a wizard. Everything he knew about magic he learned through rote memorization. He carried around a book as thick as my leg and referenced it every morning to prepare spells. Twilight just... does it. She wakes up in the morning, eats breakfast, gets a distant look in her eyes, and she’s throwing around Fireballs that afternoon. Twilight knows magic.” Rarity stamped her hoof on the couch for emphasis. “She understands every element of the spells she uses so thoroughly that she can form them on the fly.”

“She was taught by Star Swirl the Bearded.”

“I know,” Rarity said. “But, there’s more to it than that. Have you ever noticed each fight we get into she’s using stronger spells than the last? If she were actually formally tested, she’d be declared an Archmage by the time she cast her third spell, and it’s only been a few weeks since she left Candlekeep. It almost wouldn’t surprise me if she read and understood every book on magic in Candlekeep.”

Pinkie shrugged. “I think she did.”

Rarity shook her head. “That was hyperbole, Pinkie. It’s absurd. There’s so many books in Candlekeep there’s no way—”

“I’m pretty sure she did,” Pinkie interrupted. “Almost all of them, anyway.”

Rarity blinked. “Well... that explains a lot.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. I wonder how much longer it’s going to be, Rarity thought, twisting her neck to try and peek past the curtain.

“I’m worried about what will happen if we don’t get her out soon,” Pinkie said.

“She should sit tight until tomorrow, at least,” Rarity replied. “If she tries to get out on her own, it’ll be a bloodbath. She knows that.”

“That’s what worries me,” Pinkie murmured, almost inaudible.

Before Rarity could say anything else, a pair of ponies walked through the curtains. They sneered down at Rarity and Pinkie on their way out. “We’re ready for you now, Rarity,” Lotus said, poking her head out.

They probably made us wait so that those two wouldn’t have to associate with dirty ponies like us, Rarity thought. She stood up and walked toward the doorway. “Lotus, you still have the guest rooms upstairs, right?”

Lotus nodded. “Of course.”

“How much would it cost to reserve the whole place for a few days, full service?” Rarity asked.

Rarity languished on a couch while Lotus filed away the rough edges of her hind hooves, her coat feeling cleaner than it had in a very long time. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the pillow. She had caught a few minutes of sleep in the bath, but her eyelids still felt heavy.

“Rarity?” Pinkie said.

Rarity blinked her eyes open and turned her head to look at Pinkie. “Yeah?”

“How much do Lotus and Aloe know about you?” Pinkie asked.

“We’ve known ‘er for a long time,” Aloe said around a brush she was running through Pinkie’s curly mane. “Since we were all fillies in the streets of Canterlot.”

Rarity slumped her head back down onto the pillow. “Why does it mat—”

Pinkie interrupted, saying, “You ran away from home, didn’t you?”

Rarity blinked. How did she know? she wondered.

“Your sister said you were gone for years last time you went away. You’re not that old, or you don’t look it. To build a reputation, you would have had to start young,” Pinkie said. “So, you ran away from home, and you ended up working with the Thieves Guild.”

Rarity sighed. “Yes, that’s right.”

Pinkie shifted on her couch; Rarity heard the frame creak. “Didn’t your parents worry about you?”

Rarity swallowed. She tilted her head, facing away from Pinkie. “Of course... when I got back, they were so surprised to see me. They thought I was dead.”

“Why leave?” Pinkie asked.

Rarity scowled. “I was a stupid little filly. After I earned my Mark, I thought my destiny was to shine. I thought the only place I could do that was in a big city of art and magic, Canterlot. I traveled there with the carnival. Two weeks later, I wanted to go home so badly, but I didn’t have the bits to make it back.”

“But, eventually, you earned enough money to move back and start a business. To do that, you had to do bad things, didn’t you? You killed ponies,” Pinkie said.

Rarity nodded. She wrapped her forelegs around her pillow, pulling it close. A hoof gently touched her on the back.

“You’re not alone, Rarity. We’re here, now,” Pinkie said, directly behind her.

Rarity blinked back the moisture in her eyes. “I know.” She turned to face Pinkie and smiled up at her. “Thanks.”

Pinkie shook her head. “No, thank you.”

“For what?” Rarity asked.

“The smile.”

Wearing a borrowed dress, Rarity paused in the front door on the way out of the spa. She looked over her shoulder at Aloe. “When we come back for the reserved stay, there’ll be a lavender unicorn with us. I’ll pay extra if she gets extra special treatment.”

Aloe nodded. “We’ll be sure to make her relaxed, then.”

With a small smile on her lips, Rarity exited the spa and trotted a few steps to catch up with Pinkie. “Remember,” Rarity whispered, “we’re a pair of young ladies out for a stroll, not escaped prisoners.”

“Of course,” Pinkie grinned, tipping back her flowery hat. “I love playing pretend.”

By the time Rarity took three more steps, two pegasi in Flaming Wing uniforms swooped in low over their heads and landed behind them. Her hat fluttered off in the gust of wind spilling off their wings. Catching her hat in her levitation, Rarity took a deep breath and felt for her daggers in her tail.

“Excuse me, ladies,” one of the Flaming Wing soldiers said.

‘The trick to not being guilty is not acting guilty. Appearances are everything.’

Rarity turned with a broad grin and waved at the soldiers. “You two are a godsend. Do you by any chance know where Sorcerous Sundries is?” She knew perfectly well where the shop was located. Aloe had given her directions less than two minutes ago.

The lead pony stared at her for a moment, taken aback. “‘Friad not, ma’am,” he finally said. “We’re looking for a unicorn and a—”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I hear they have this wonderful magical hoof polish that can make them actually glow!” Rarity gushed. “I’ve simply been dying to try it! I guess I’ll have to ask somepony a little closer.”

“That might be a good idea, ma’am. Now, we heard a report that there was a unicorn and an earth pony in the establishment you just stepped out of matching the description of some ponies we’re looking for. They’d be dirty. Both mares. The unicorn was white, and the earth pony was pink. Ring any bells?” the Flaming Wing soldier said, staring at her pointedly.

Rarity gasped, glancing at Pinkie. “Could that have been us?” She gracefully tittered behind her hoof. “I guess we looked absolutely dreadful after traveling back from Aunt Opal’s estate; all that dust from the farmers carts on the road was simply unimaginable.”

Pinkie blinked at the pegasus with wide, expressive eyes. “What in Equestria do you need us for?”

Rarity winced internally at Pinkie’s dramatic tone, but the soldier shook his head. “Not you. I apologize for any confusion. Thank you for your time.” He turned sharply and took to the air, his wingpony following.

“I told you they wouldn’t be here,” Rarity overheard one of them say as they flew away. Pinkie giggled.

Rarity smirked.

Rarity stood at the counter in Sorcerous Sundries. The shopkeeper passed two furled scrolls across it to her. “Here you are,” she said. “Silence, and Stone Gaze.”

Rarity floated over the required amount of bits. After paying Aloe and Lotus, she barely had enough for the scrolls. Fortunately, what she had left over would cover the cost of a few simple weapons in case something went wrong.

“Thank you,” Rarity said. She unfurled the scrolls, checking that they were authentic, as she turned away from the counter.

Across the room, Pinkie peered at a gnarled staff on the shelf. Rarity walked over to her. “Everything okay?” she asked.

Pinkie turned toward the door. “Nothing. Just reminded me of the one Star Swirl had is all.” She headed out of the shop.

Rarity followed her out onto the street. She leaned in close to Pinkie and asked, “Did he teach you how to do what you do too?” while they moved around another pair of pedestrians.

Pinkie shook her head. “I learned what I know from an old pony in Candlekeep. He taught me to find my center in joy, and use that.”

Rarity quirked an eyebrow at Pinkie. “What does that even mean?”

Pinkie shrugged. “Life has a resonance. If you learn to find the good things, even when they seem bad, you can resonate faster.”

Rarity smiled. “That sounds nice. How do you do it?”

“Some days are harder than others.” Pinkie dodged around a cart as it clattered past. “But I always remember that I have friends, and my friends need me to smile.”

After dropping their borrowed dresses off at the spa and stopping by the docks to arrange a spot for the diamond dogs in a merchant captain’s crew, they returned to the the tunnel.

In the passage with the diamond dogs, Rarity unfurled the Stone Gaze scroll, cast the spell, and stared at the wall. Her eyes cut through the masoned stone, dirt, and rock in her path, leaving them shadowed outlines. Above, she made out a block of six cells on the edge of the fortress. The middle one on the outer wall had a narrow window at street level. The spell didn’t reveal anything beyond the stone, only the stones themselves, but she knew from her memory of the fortress that she was looking at Twilight’s cell.

“There,” Rarity said before the spell faded, pointing with her hoof. “Straight in that direction.”

The two dogs nodded, and began the task of cutting aside the stone. Rarity turned away from the wall, her vision returning to normal. “Well, Pinkie,” she said, “we should catch some sleep while we can.”

Pinkie smiled at her. “You do that. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“We’ve both been up all night,” Rarity said.

Pinkie laughed, waving a hoof. “I’ve been up waaay longer than this. I’ll be fine. You get some rest.”

Rarity nodded. She settled against the hard wall of the passage, shifting to get comfortable. She closed her eyes. The weight of her exhaustion overcame the noise of digging.

In her dreams, a rat wandered the winding streets of Canterlot, hungry and alone, until a fox took her in. The fox demanded more and more of the rat, and the rat had a fire in her heart; she wanted to outshine the stars. The rat persevered, and eventually she became a white spider, elegant and deadly, with fangs that whispered sweet words.

The Black Knight: Part I

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The Black Knight

Shining Armor shivered. Rain fell in sheets off the eaves above and spattered on his back. He wrapped his foreleg around his mother’s, clinging close, trying to get under her cloak, as he stared up at the monolithic wooden door in front of him. His mother reached up with her free hoof and rapped on the door.

“Mom, why’re we here?” Shining Armor asked.

“You know why we’re here, Shining,” his mother said. “Your sister Twilight is finally with us, and it’s time.”

Shining armor glanced up at where his sister slept in a sash across his father’s chest, tiny, peaceful and warm. His parents had changed recently. Something about them was different than before. He first noticed it when his mother told him he’d have a sister soon, but that wasn’t what had changed. They started to spend time with strange people who liked to wear black clothes. They told him of a god, a power far beyond his young mind’s understanding. They told him that he was very special, and that this God loved him very much.

He believed them.

Shining Armor started when the door suddenly cracked open, spilling light from a torch lit hallway out into the rain. A figure cowled by dark robes stood in the entrance. “You made it, good,” the pony said.

Shining Armor’s mother ushered him inside. He stumbled over the doorstep, but managed to regain his balance. “Shining, quickly,” his mother urged, leading him down a short corridor into a large room.

Candles on the corners of a stone altar in the center of the room gleamed, but shadows dominated the space. The windows were blacked out. Ponies in robes stood all around him. A single pony stood over the altar with the candlelight playing on his face. Shining Armor recognized him; the others called him Father Dusk.

Dulcet tones rolled off of Father Dusk’s tongue as he began to speak. “We are gathered here today for a momentous occasion. In His love and wisdom, Azrael, the one true God, has blessed us. We have given unto Him our minds and our undying devotion, and we have been rewarded. With the three of His chosen children He has sent us, He will set us, His faithful, free from death itself.”

“Our souls are His,” the ponies in the robes chanted.

Shining Armor shivered. Something rose in the room around him – in him; he felt it. His pulse pounded in his ears as it surged within him.

“Twilight Velvet, bring forth your daughter and place her upon the altar,” Father Dusk said. “She is the one foretold unto us, and through her, He shall speak to us.”

Shining Armor’s mother moved away from him. She pulled his sister from the sash around his father's neck. Immediately, his sister started to cry. Shining felt a pang of sympathy. He understood why she was crying; he wouldn’t want to be pulled from the warm, safe embrace either.

Cooing in his sister’s ear, his mother carried her over and laid her on the altar. She wailed louder when her mother stepped away and returned to her spot beside Shining. When his mother was back, Shining Armor wrapped his foreleg around hers again.

Father Dusk placed his forehooves on the altar. “She’s beautiful,” he said. His eyes started to glow with blackness tinted by violet, somehow darker than the shadows around them. Twilight stopped crying and looked up at him. The candles in the room snuffed out. Only the void of Father Dusk’s eyes remained.

A dagger of shadow materialized over the altar, defined against the darkness by its sheer emptiness. “Bring me the colt!” Father Dusk cried, the sweetness in his voice replaced by venom. “She must be baptized in his blood!”

“Our souls are his,” the ponies chanted. Shining heard them move, shuffling toward him. He clung tighter to his mother’s leg.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Shining whispered.

“Let go, Shining,” his mother said.

Hooves grabbed him and pulled at him. “Mom!” he screamed, holding her for dear life.

“Shining, I said let go!” his mother shouted. With her free forehoof, she pushed at his face. He didn’t let go. Something banged on the door at the end of the hall. Through his mother’s legs, he saw the timbers shudder with the impact.

“I said bring me the colt!” Father Dusk shouted. “Twilight Sparkle, Herald of the Abyss, must—”

The door slammed open. For a single, crystalline moment, Shining Armor glimpsed the silhouette of a pony in a robe levitating a staff. The figure’s horn glowed, and a gout of fire leaped into the room. It clipped directly over Shining’s head. The heat dried his damp fur instantly.

“It’s him!” somepony shouted.

“Stop him! Get the Shadowspawn!” Father Dusk cried.

The corridor smouldered. The hooves grabbing at Shining were gone. He clung to his mother’s foreleg still, but when he looked up, the foreleg ended in a charred stump. His mother was nothing but ash drifting in the air. The figure’s horn glowed again, and a ring of blue flames burst into existence around him. The figure strode through the doorway.

Shining Armor dropped his mother’s leg and ran. He darted through a doorway and found a counter beneath a window. He jumped up onto the counter and beat his hooves against the window’s shutter – once, twice, three times. The latch snapped, and he tumbled out into the rain-slicked alley behind the house. He scrambled to his feet in the mud, his heart racing.

A stack of wooden crates rested in the corner against the wall. He ran for it and scrambled under one of the crates. His chest felt like it was going to to burst.

He curled into his hiding spot. Shouts and screams rippled out from inside the house. All he could see was a slit along the ground. He cringed as a detonation thundered in his ears.

All he could hear after that was his own beating heart, and a baby’s cry.

He waited, listening, completely still, and barely breathing. Somepony scrambled out through the same window he’d escaped through. Hooves touched down in the alley. The crate blocked his view of the pony, but he saw blood drip into the mud.

“Need to find the colt... need him...” the pony gasped. Shining Armor recognized the voice as Father Dusk. Shining held his breath.

A second voice, strong and vibrant, pulsed through the alley. “Vile scum, die as you lived!” A flash of light shined through the slit beneath the crate. When it faded, Father Dusk was a corpse in the mud.

A second pony stepped into view. “Child, if you’re here, come out. I won’t hurt you,” the voice said.

Shining Armor curled deeper into his hiding place. A baby, his sister, wailed louder than before. The pony standing in the alley snorted, hesitating, then walked out of sight. Shining waited until he was sure the he was alone in the alley before squirming out from under the crate. He ran, and he didn’t look back.

Eventually, he found a dry spot far away from the house. He curled into it, sniffling. Tears built, running down his cheeks and dripping into the pile of rags beneath him. Stallions don’t cry, he told himself over and over again until sleep eventually took him.

Shining Armor sucked in the scent of warm bread loaves and fresh apples. His stomach rumbled. He had nowhere to go, nothing to eat. He’d made do on scraps offered by strangers, but every day he got thinner – and hungrier. He missed the house with the warm fire where he used to live. He reminded himself that was the same house with the mother that eventually tried to have him killed.

He lurked between Market stalls, a ragged cloak given to him by a nice old mare wrapped tight around his shoulders. She was gone now. He didn’t know where she went, only that he had one less place to find food. He suspected she was dead. The strange ponies at her place only told him she’d gone to Celestia when he asked, whatever that meant. Maybe Azrael has her soul now, he thought.

He stared at a brown puddle in a gutter behind one of the stalls and licked his dry lips. Usually, he tried to drink just after it rained, or from one of the public pumps around the city. He wondered what the puddle would taste like.

A reflection moved into view on the surface of the puddle, resolving into a white filly, a few years older than he was. He looked up. Loaves of bread peeked out of a sack slung over her shoulder. She wore a knit cap around her ears. She bore a Mark on her flank, though Shining Armor couldn’t see what it was from this angle. His own was blank.

“Hey kid, you hungry?” she said.

He nodded. She smiled and passed him a loaf of bread and an apple. Then, she took off her cap and shoved it onto his head. It didn’t sit quite right with his horn in the way, but at least it warmed his ears.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. He took the apple in his levitation, a bit shakily, and tucked the loaf of bread beneath one of his forelegs. As he took a bite, he savored the sweet juice flowing down his throat.

She smirked. “Don’t thank me.” She turned away and looked back over her shoulder. Now, he could see her Mark in full; it was a jester’s cap. “Oh, and, you should run.”

Shining Armor’s ears perked. The beat of hooves thundered behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. Three adults bore down on him, running along the narrow space behind the row of Market stalls. “That’s the thief!” one of them shouted. “See the hat!”

Shining Armor dropped the loaf in the puddle and ran. He’d heard stories about thieves getting their hooves chopped off for stealing. The filly, already several paces ahead of him, turned a corner. He followed and nearly slipped on a loose stone as he tore around the bend. He managed to keep her in sight while she raced down narrow alleys and side streets. At every turn, he checked over his shoulder. Soon, only one pony chased them, a thin, lean looking earth pony. The two others had fallen well behind.

He turned another bend into a deserted alley. The filly was gone; he’d lost her. He stopped, panting, and listened. He couldn’t hear his pursuers anymore. He sucked at the spot he’d bitten out of the apple to wet his lips with the moisture.

“Psst, hey kid. In here,” a shrill voice said. It sounded like the filly. He focused on the spot it came from and saw a hole in the base of a high wooden fence running along the side of the street. He squirmed his way through the broken planks, tearing his cloak on a jagged edge, and emerged into a tiny, overgrown, urban yard. When he noticed the filly leaning against the fence, he glared at her.

“Hey, sorry,” she said. “You looked hungry.”

“And gullible?” he asked. “What were you hoping, that you’d just have to outrun me, not them?”

She giggled. “You’re smarter than you look.” She tilted her head. “What’s ‘gullible’ mean?”

He frowned and took another bite out of his apple. When he finished chewing, he said, “Nothing.”

“Well, hey, you kept up. We should be friends. Work together.” She raised her hoof and grinned. “I’m Jinx.”

Shining Armor furrowed his brows. “How often do you eat?”

“Every single day.”

He raised his right forehoof and bumped it against hers. “Shining Armor.”

“Shining Armor? Really? Did your parents give you that name?” She laughed. “We’re going to call you ‘Shiny’.”

“Fine.”

She raised her hooves to her mouth and squealed quietly in delight. “This is great! I heard unicorns make really good pickpockets!”

In front of Shining Armor’s eyes, a thick foreleg shot through the hole in the fence. It looped around Jinx’s neck. Her eyes went wide, but before she could react, it yanked her through the hole. Loaves of bread tumbled out of her satchel and scattered on the ground.

“Gotcha!” the deep voice of an adult mare shouted. “You shouldn’t have squeaked, street rat!”

Shining Armor dodged back when the forehoof returned. “Now where’s your friend...” the owner said.

“Shiny! Run!” Jinx cried.

A picture of Jinx with a bleeding stump where her right forehoof had been formed in Shining Armor’s mind. No, he thought, a strange sense of calm falling over him, and slammed his hooves down on the invading foreleg. He was rewarded with a pained cry. The hoof withdrew, and he followed it out.

The mare on the far side of the fence held Jinx down with one foreleg. After squirming through the hole and regaining his footing, Shining Armor lunged at her. His hooves bounced off the adult pony’s hard shoulder. His target barely flinched.

“Why you little...” the mare said

In the blink of an eye, the mare struck him in the face with the back of her hoof. His head snapped to the side, and he bounced off the fence. Something wet oozed out of his throbbing nose. He smelled blood. Before he could recover, her hoof came down on his throat.

Shining Armor pushed at the foreleg attached to the hoof pressing down on his neck, trying to dislodge it as he struggled to breathe. He fought, choking, wishing he had the strength to break his attacker. Something surged in response to his wish, building to a crescendo and flowing down his foreleg.

The mare spat on his face. “Stinking little thieves!” she said. She turned her head away and opened her mouth, calling “I found—”

The fur around where Shining Armor’s hoof touched her foreleg turned to ash, exposing the skin beneath. Veins running through the pale flesh turned black. The mare toppled and fell off of him. As soon as he was free, he jumped to his feet and pressed his back against the fence.

“Woah, Shiny, what’d you do?” Jinx asked as she stood. “What was that? Magic?”

Shining Armor shook his head. “I don’t know! I didn’t mean to do it!” He reached up and wiped at his face. His hoof came away bloody, but his nose had stopped bleeding. His muzzle didn’t hurt. His throat wasn’t even sore. His flank tingled.

Jinx poked at the mare with a forehoof. She lay still. Her chest didn’t even move. “I think she’s dead,” Jinx murmured.

“Good,” Shining Armor growled. Shadows clung to the edges of his vision. He felt alive: energized.

Jinx stared at him. He could see fear in her eyes. She gestured at his flank. “Your Mark,” she said.

Shining Armor twisted and looked down at his flank. An image of a shield with a magenta star emblazoned across it and three stars above it had appeared in his fur. Did I earn that for killing her? he wondered, glancing at the corpse.

“We should go. The others will be here soon,” Jinx said, already trotting away.

Shining Armor planted his hooves. “Let them come.”

“What!” Jinx cried. “I’m leaving Shiny, with or without you.”

“Go,” Shining Armor said. Something seethed in his veins. He wanted more.

“Fine!” Jinx said. He heard the clop of her hooves as she ran away.

The shadows on the edge of his vision receded. He shook his head to clear it. She’s right. I have to run, he thought. I killed her! They might kill me! He turned to chase after Jinx, but she was already out of sight. He opened his mouth to call for her.

“This way! This is where I heard it from!” a pony shouted. The voice came from just outside of the alley.

Shining Armor shut his mouth and ran.

Shining Armor slid a collection of hard-earned bits into a pouch at his hip. A warm fire crackled nearby, surrounded by his fellows, orphans and runaways. Two buildings wedged together shrouded their little hide-away from the skyborn eyes of the Flaming Wing. It was a safe spot to sleep. He yawned, drawing a warm scrap of fabric closer around his thin form.

“Ey Shining!” a voice called.

Shining looked up. An older colt stared down at him. Shining Armor had earned his Mark a while ago, but this colt still stood a head taller than him. “What do you want, Hinge?” Shining asked.

“Come on, Shiny. You know what I want. I give you food, a warm place to stay; I get what you earn,” Hinge said.

“Are you robbing me?” Shining Armor said.

Hinge kicked him in the face. It hurt. Shining recoiled, rolling onto the ground. “It’s not robbin’ to take what’s mine!” Hinge shouted.

Shining Armor gripped an iron spike he’d filed to a point in his levitation. He whipped it out from his pouch and turned. Aiming at Hinge’s face, he struck. It was over in an instant. Hinge fell beside him, the spike lodged in his eye.

Shining Armor climbed to his feet and casually pulled the spike out of Hinge’s face. He wiped it clean on Hinge’s fur, then stowed it. Killing had been easy for him, even though he’d never been able to kill with a mere touch since the first time. It helped him survive. He glanced at the other young castaways around him, staring at him in shock. He snorted and turned away. I’ll find a new spot to sleep, he thought.

Before he reached the street ahead, a figure in a dark cloak stepped out of a doorway in front of him, blocking his path. He tried to step around, but the figure moved with him. He glimpsed a beak beneath the hood. “What do you want?” he growled.

“If you want a job kid, you should follow me,” the griffon said, a gleam in her eyes. “You’re strong, and you don’t hesitate. The Ninth Street Vixen is always looking for ponies like you.”

Shining Armor quirked a brow at the Griffon. “A job doing what?”

“Headhunting.”

Shining Armor walked along a jagged ridge.

To the right side of the ridge, he stood clad in black armor covered in blood. The heads of his enemies piled around his hooves. There, he was powerful, victorious.

On the left, he cowered behind a silver shield. Hungry shadows circled him. He was weary and outnumbered. There, he would surely die.

A figure blocked his path, Father Dusk. The shadows pulsed as he spoke.

“You’re going to have to make a choice. You can’t walk the line forever.”

His sister, a baby lavender unicorn, materialized in front of him. A dagger formed from shadow hovered above her. She looked up at him with black eyes.

“When you meet again, she will bathe in your blood, unless you have the strength to stop her. Choose wisely.”

The dagger pointed at him. It flickered and lunged at him. He hesitated, not sure which way to dodge. It raced toward him, about to plunge into his chest.

A loud knock on the door to Shining Armor’s room woke him. He groaned, rubbing his eyes. The dream lingered in his mind, almost identical to the one he’d had the night before, and the night before that.

“Who is it?” Shining Armor called.

“The Vixen wants to see you,” a voice answered from the far side of the door.

Shining Armor rolled out of his warm, soft bed. “Tell her I’m coming,” he said.

“Tell her yourself,” the voice called, already retreating away from the door.

Shining Armor sighed. It barely took him a step to reach the low table on the wall opposite the bed. He was grateful for the tiny room; it was far better than the street. He dipped his hooves into a water-filled bowl on the table and splashed his face. He shivered as the cool moisture soaked into his fur, jolting him awake. He wondered how long he’d been asleep. It felt like he’d only been out for a couple hours.

He closed a book he’d left open on the table. One of the first things the Thieves Guild had taught him was how to read at a basic level. He needed to be able to understand notes with details about his targets. On his own, he learned to read far more complex information. With the money he earned, he purchased books on mathematics, myth, and magic. He’d managed to learn a few simple spells. For some reason, protection spells, specifically Abjuration, came to him far easier than the others.

He opened the door and headed out into the narrow corridor beyond. After locking his room behind him, he trotted down the guildhouse stairs to the first level, where the Vixen’s office was. The floorboards creaked beneath his hooves in the silence. Even with the shuttered windows, he could tell it was sometime during the day; the guildhouse was far more active at night.

When he reached the Vixen’s door, he took a deep breath, raised his hoof, and knocked.

“Enter,” her voice rang out.

Shining Armor slipped into the office and shut the door gently behind him. A wrinkled mare with a greying mane sat on the far side of a mahogany desk. Her cold eyes flickered over a scroll in her hooves. “Sit,” she said, not taking her eyes off the scroll.

Shining Armor settled into a chair for guests. She set the scroll on the desk. “I see you’re awake,” she said, sliding the scroll across to him.

Shining Armor peered at the scroll. Cadenza, Mi Amore. Tall. Three tone mane. Purple eyes. Unicorn, like most nobles. An address in the city. Under guard, he noted, picking out the key information. He recognized the name. She was the daughter of one of Manehattan’s Duchesses.

“This came to me recently,” the Vixen said, finally looking at him, “and I thought, who better to take this one on than my very own Bloodhound?”

“You know I don’t like that name,” Shining Armor muttered.

“You’ve earned it. You should be proud of it. You’re one of my youngest hunters, and you’re the best.”

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

The Vixen chuckled. “We have, and it never gets through to you.”

Shining Armor gestured at the scroll. “Why her?”

The Vixen leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Shiny, Shiny, Shiny... Why do you always have to ask questions?”

“Humor me,” Shining Armor said.

“If I were to guess, it’s because she’s an only child, a lone daughter, her father is dead, and her mother is old. I’ll bet some of her aunts have their eye on her inheritance,” the Vixen said. “Satisfied?”

So, not anything she did, he thought. He checked the reward written on the bottom of the scroll. Even accounting for the guild cut, it was a tremendous amount. Usually, he’d have to do three jobs to make that much. Still, he prefered bounties posted by the Flaming Wing, as the targets were criminals.

The Vixen’s gaze hardened, focused on him. “You’re not turning this one down.”

Shining Armor nodded. “I’m not.” The pay was too high to reject the job. “But why wake me up for it?”

“Two reasons. One, her mother is out on a trip, and she’s bound to have taken some of the family’s personal guard with her, so it’s good timing. Two, it’s an open bounty,” the Vixen said. “There’s going to be competition.” She smiled at him. “You’d best get moving.”

Shining Armor stood and headed for the door. “Hold on,” the Vixen said. He paused in the doorway and looked back at her. “You haven’t let me down yet, Shiny. Don’t let me down this time. The guild’s reputation, and my reputation, is on the line here. I’m sending backup with you. Take Artemis and Vellum.”

Before he could protest, she held up a hoof. “They’ll only get a ten percent cut, each, regardless of who does the actual killing. I don’t want them getting in your way trying to make more bits.”

Shining Armor breathed air in through the vents in his masked helm. He peered down through the dusky gloom at the courtyard of an urban estate from a vantage point on a nearby rooftop. Two ponies flanked the front door, the plates of their polished armor reflecting the light of a lantern hanging above the door.

He shifted beneath his own armor: chainmail over a thin layer of leather. Unicorns that relied on magic in combat typically avoided armor, especially heavy helms that impeded their horn. As he understood it, most material except for specially woven fabrics made it harder for a unicorn to ‘feel’ the ley lines that fueled arcane spells. When he cast spells, he hardly noticed his armor.

He tested the weight of his favored weapon, his shield, a round wooden disk with a metal rim that he’d ground a sharp edge on himself. He also carried a bow slung across his back, along with six arrows. After seeing how strong his levitation was, the Vixen had insisted he practice using a bow. Eventually, he convinced her his time would be better spent learning magic. He was a poor shot, but he could still launch a projectile further, faster, and more accurately by bending the bow than by throwing it directly.

Vellum appeared beside him, clad in dark grey fabric over light armor. He blended into the night. The only sound when he moved up beside Shining Armor was the soft clink of chain links. “Artemis should be back soon,” he said quietly. “We did some lurking. I think the target’s room is on the second floor, east side. Artemis flew in closer to check it out.”

Shining Armor nodded an affirmative. He suspected that the Vixen had sent Vellum along complement his own skillset. Vellum was an earth pony that prefered quiet solutions, like the switchblade mounted on his wrist and the poisoned spike attached to the end of his tail. As for Artemis, they needed a scout.

A few seconds later, he spotted a shape against the sky. Artemis swooped in to land beside him, her talons clicking on the rooftop. She carried a crossbow slung across her back. “Her room is on the east side. It’s the only lit second story window on that wall of the building.”

“How do you know?” Shining Armor asked, eyeing the lit window.

“I peeked inside and saw her,” Artemis said. “I should be able to get the window open quietly. If she weren’t awake, I would have slipped in and finished this.”

“We move together,” Shining Armor said.

“I say we wait until she’s asleep, then climb the wall and take her out,” Vellum said.

Shining Armor shook his head. “I don’t like climbing.”

Artemis chuckled. “Why? ‘Cause you’re bad at it? You can stay behind if you want.”

“We move together,” Shining Armor repeated. “And climbing leaves us exposed. We don’t know who else is here.”

“What’s your plan, anyway?” Artemis asked. “Take the guards head on?”

Shining Armor nodded. “Yes.” He eyed the two guards. “You two take one; I take the other. We hit them fast. They won’t know what’s happening until they’re dead.”

Artemis shook her head wearily. “Kid, I’ve been at this game way longer than you have. There’s no way we’re going to beat down those two tin cans without waking up half the city, provided they don’t kill us first.”

“The armor around their neck is vulnerable. If you hit them there while they’re surprised, they won’t get the chance to protect themselves,” Shining Armor said.

“I like Vellum’s plan better. I don’t care that you’re the Vixen’s new favorite. I’m not going to let you get us all killed,” Artemis said.

Shining Armor snorted. I thought I was working with professionals. He frowned. He didn’t want to argue. “Fine. We’ll wait a few hours for night to set in, then move in.”

Waiting at the base of the east wall, Shining Armor glanced up to check his team’s progress. He’d managed to get over the estate’s courtyard wall without making too much noise, but he wasn’t keen on attempting to climb another. The window was dark now. Presumably, the target was asleep. Artemis tinkered with the latch, trying to leverage open the glass panes quietly. Vellum clung to small hoofholds between the mortared stones, already halfway up to the window. Vellum would be the one to sneak into her room and deliver the killing blow.

Thunk!

Artemis thumped against the wall and plummeted, a crossbow bolt through her neck. She slammed into a flower bed beside Shining Armor, the impact kicking up a cloud of dark soil and petals. She gurgled as she tried to breath, blood frothing at the corners of her beak and out her nostrils.

Above, Vellum released the wall and dropped. A second bolt arced out of the darkness and caught him in the shoulder before he hit the ground. He landed with a crunch, one of his hind legs twisted. This time, Shining Armor caught the direction the bolt came from: around the front of the house. He shifted, raising both his shield and his bow in his levitation as he moved to Artemis’s side. By the time he reached the griffon, she was already dead.

“Vellum?” he hissed. “You still with me?”

“That hit threw me off,” Vellum said. “I landed all wrong. I think my leg is broken, but I’m alive.”

Shining Armor nocked an arrow and focused on the corner of the house. He kept the shield in a fixed position in front of him and concentrated on using his bow. He glanced at Vellum. The shaft of the crossbow bolt had broken off. Dark blood oozed from the wound, spreading across his torso like a shadow.

Letting his concentration slip for a moment, Shining Armor tossed a healing potion to Vellum. Unfortunately, they only had one. “Take that to stop the bleeding, and get out,” Shining said. Vellum swigged the healing potion, then pulled another vial, an invisibility potion, from his cloak and held it out. Shining Armor shook his head. “You keep it.”

Vellum shrugged, drank down the second vial, and disappeared. “Good luck,” his disembodied voice said.

“Thanks,” Shining Armor whispered as he advanced with his shield and bow at the ready. He kept his eyes trained on the corner of the building. When he reached it, he whipped around the bend, leading with his shield.

The front courtyard was empty aside from the corpses of the two guards. Both of the guards had a crossbow bolt through their throat. Two shooters, most likely, Shining Armor thought. To take down both guards without raising the alarm, they would have had to hit them both at the same time. When they hit Artemis and Vellum, they didn’t have a third bolt to spare on him.

Shining Armor cautiously moved forward, approaching the front door of the estate. When he reached it, he found the doors wide open. Before advancing into the building, he cast a spell, manifesting an arcane shield to compliment his material one. He used his shields to cover to either side, in case they were waiting to ambush him, and crossed the threshold.

No bolts greeted him in the entry foyer. It was as deserted as the courtyard outside. He illuminated his horn, using the subdued glow to light his path in the dark interior. His hooves clicked on the marble floor as he trotted toward a curved staircase with a polished banister leading up to a second floor balcony. They could be in her room already, he thought. It didn’t matter – as long as there was only one hunter left to collect the bounty at the end of the night.

“Lady Cadance, run!” a voice shouted from the hallway at the top of the stairs.

Target’s on the move, Shining Armor thought. He took the steps two at a time. A row of floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the small panes supported by a wooden latticework, ran along the back wall of the balcony, revealing a moonlit veranda and the starry sky. Through the windows, he glimpsed her silhouette – tall, slender, with a thin sleeping gown flowing around her body as she ran across the veranda.

As Shining Armor reached the top of the stairs, a second, hooded pony stepped out onto the veranda and raised a foreleg with a crossbow strapped to it, pointing it at Cadance. She froze. My kill, Shining Armor thought. Without missing a step, he dropped his bow, bashed his way through the window with his shield, and burst out onto the veranda between the Cadance and her attacker.

Shards of glass flashed in the moonlight as they flew around him, deflecting harmlessly off his armor. He swung his arcane shield into position between him and the shooter, his other terribly out of position after shattering the glass.

The barrier lit as a bolt struck it and fragmented. Through the transparent shield, he caught a good look at the shooter. From the shape of her muzzle poking out from under the hood, he guessed that she was a mare. She carried two crossbows attached to her forelegs. The cranks she used to reload them poked out to either side. She was alone.

Shining Armor lunged, swinging the bladed edge of his shield at her. She dove to the side, and with a clear shot around his arcane shield, fired her second crossbow. A lance of pain shot into his chest as the bolt punched through his thin armor.

Shining Armor didn’t even flinch. Instead, he carried through with his shield and brought it down on her prone form. The edge buried into her spine between her shoulderblades; it was done.

Her cloak had fallen away from her flank when she dove, revealing her mark on her white-furred flank: a jester’s cap. For a moment, Shining Armor stared at the body. Jinx? he wondered.

“Who’re you?” a lovely voice asked from behind him.

Shining Armor turned; it was Mi Amore Cadenza, his target. For the first time, he saw her. Their eyes met through the slits of his mask. She looked back at him with her silken gown wisping around her, her violet eyes shining in the light of the moon, and concern written on her face. Ripping his shield free from the body, he took a step toward her. She was in reach. He could kill her with a single blow.

He hesitated. He’d never hesitated to kill before. He took a shuddering, wheezing breath. His side burned. I earned my mark by killing, he thought. He glanced at the corpse. Or did I earn it by saving her?

Two armored guards burst out onto the veranda behind Cadance, weapons ready. They rushed in front of her. “Drop your weapon!” one of them shouted.

It was too late. He’d lost his window. His head swam as he eyed the railing. A one story drop, then he could run. He took a step toward it, and stumbled, collapsing against the railing. His bloody shield slipped from his grasp and tumbled off the edge through a gap..

Gasping, he looked at the corpse on the veranda. Did I cause this, by killing that pony in front of her all those years ago? Would she be dead if I stayed with her? he wondered.

“M’lady, stand back!” one of the guards shouted.

A shadow fell over Shining Armor, and he looked up. Cadance stood over him. She reached down with a forehoof, and pulled his masked helm off of his head. She’s seen my face, he thought as he faded away into unconsciousness.

Shining Armor woke up on smooth, hard surface. A colored pattern of light shined down on him from above. A visage of the goddess Celestia wrought in stained glass stared down at him. The morning Sun behind her lanced through the window and illuminated the panes. He shifted, reaching up to touch his side. His armor was gone. When he touched his ribs, he found his flesh whole.

He remembered flickers of consciousness: being carried through the streets, his armor being removed, hooves touching him, and his pain vanishing. Blinking in the bright light, he turned his head. A dozing pony in white robes with a wispy, grey beard reclined next to him.

Shining Armor swallowed to wet his throat and said, “Where am I?”

The old pony started awake. Fumbling for the pair of spectacles in his lap, he peered down at Shining Armor. “You’re in a temple, on an altar where we healed you.”

Shining Armor shifted into a sitting position. He closed his eyes, a sense of vertigo washing over him. “How many hours?” he asked.

“Six, give or take. You were in pretty bad shape when you got here.”

Did she bring me here? he wondered. He could only hope. Her face was burned into his memory. He wanted to see her again. How can I? he thought. “Can you make me better?” he asked.

The old pony chuckled. “We already did.”

Shining Armor shook his head. He couldn’t be the killer anymore. He couldn’t be the pony that slaughtered Jinx and considered murdering the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. He had to escape it all; the Thieves Guild, his past, everything. He glanced up at Celestia. Maybe she can save me.

I have to be better, Shining Armor thought. “I meant... I want to change. I’ve done bad things. I want to be better.”

The Black Knight: Part II

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Shining Armor fruitlessly scrubbed at a speck of grit marring a stained glass pane with a wire brush. When it finally abraded away, he dropped the brush into a bucket of soapy water and wiped his brow with his foreleg. Nearly finished, he thought, eyeing the next five panes within reach. Of course, after that, he’d have to get a ladder.

He looked up at the image of Celestia represented by the glass in the shrine’s window with a small smile. The window slanted inward over the altar, placing the interior of the shrine beneath her spread white wings. A crown of amber flared around her head, coloring the visage of the sun behind her head. Her mane and tail filled the rest of the space with a mix of soft colors.

“Why do you have to be so hard to keep clean?” he asked. As the words left his mouth, he heard hoofsteps behind him and immediately dropped into a low crouch. He snatched up the brush as a makeshift projectile and turned to face the intruder. It was the old cleric that had been there when he woke up.

“Sorry to scare you,” the pony said.

Shining Armor sighed and dropped the brush back into the bucket. A splash of warm water hit his coat. It’s been four days, he told himself. Nopony had come after him. At first, he’d thought Mi Amore Cadenza would find out why he was at her mother’s estate, or worse, that the Vixen would want some sort of reprisal for his failure.

He shook his head. “It’s not your fault, Orion.”

From the doorway into the shrine, Orion eyed the window behind Shining Armor appreciatively. “Good work. You should take a break.”

“But I’ve hardly started,” Shining Armor protested.

Orion smiled at him knowingly. “There’s no rush. Besides, somepony was asking to see you.” He stepped aside, and another pony took his place in the doorway. Shining Armor recognized her; it was Cadance. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” Orion said as he walked away down one of the temple’s stone corridors.

Shining Armor stared at her as she confidently strode into the shrine. The light played across her mane and coat, revealing all of the details he had missed in the moonlight on the balcony. “So, you stayed here,” she said.

Shining Armor swallowed. “Yeah...”

Cadance fixed him with a sharp gaze. “Why were you there that night?” She took a step closer.

Shining Armor turned back to the window, unable to meet her eyes. “Why’d you come looking for me?” he asked. He picked his brush back up and set to work on the next pane.

Her hooves clopped on the stone as she moved closer. “You saved my life. It’s the least I could do. I would have come sooner, but with the attack, the guards insisted I stay home.” She gave a rather unladylike snort. “‘For my own safety’...” she muttered. “They couldn’t protect me there.”

“And you saved mine, by bringing me here. We’re even. You can leave and live your life.”

He heard her sit on the floor behind him. “I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers,” she said.

Shining Armor scrubbed the glass in silence.

“Did my mother hire you to protect me?” Cadance asked. “Why didn’t she discuss it with me?”

Shining Armor spun to face her. “Your mother didn’t hire me.”

Cadance was calmly sitting beside the altar in the center of the shrine. “Then why?” She looked up at the stained glass window. “If it wasn’t my mother, who else could it be? The Goddess?”

Shining Armor glared at her. Stupid noble princess, he thought. “Do you think I’m your protector? Your guardian angel? Well, I’m not.” He scowled and looked at the floor, adding, “You don’t want to know why I was there.”

“Then tell me why you’re still here,” Cadance said. “You had to know I’d come looking. If you didn’t want to answer my questions, why didn’t you leave?”

He sighed. “I want to become a cleric.”

She blinked. “Why? It all happened so fast, but by all appearances, you’re a capable fighter and a talented spellcaster.” She peered at him. “Why learn something else?”

Because you’re not the only one who needs saving, he thought as he turned back to the window. “Why not?” he said.

She heaved an exasperated sigh. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

“Are we done?”

“One more question, and I’ll leave,” she said.

“What is it?” Shining Armor asked, rubbing the brush across the glass.

“What’s your name?”

Shining Armor froze. She’s seen your face. Don’t give her your name too. You’ll end up in a noose, he told himself. Make something up. He glanced over his shoulder, prepared to lie.

“Please?” she said, staring at him with her wide violet eyes.

“Shining Armor.”

Shining Armor transferred water glowing with a faint golden light from a basin into an earthenware jug. Around him, ponies filtered out of the chapel, where the temple held a weekly gathering for those seeking the wisdom of the clerics and Celestia’s blessing. After the jug was full, he turned toward the doorway that lead to the shrine at the back of the chapel.

He walked over to the shrine, pausing to scratch around his neck. The grey robes marking him as an acolyte were rough, and he didn’t like wearing them, but fortunately he only had to don them for events. When he reached the shrine, he poured the contents of the jug into a channel around the edge of the room, where the properties of the blessed water would be maintained.

She was here, he thought while he held the jug upside-down over the pool of water, listening to the rhythmic glug-glug of the water falling out in bursts. Cadance had been sitting among the gathered ponies. Two guards accompanied her. She stuck out like a clean patch on a dirty rug. Usually, ponies of her means came privately with a donation when they sought the temple’s services. Most of the ponies that came for the weekly gatherings were poor.

During the service, she had kept glancing at him. He tried not to look back and stand solemnly like he was supposed to, but he couldn’t help but meet her gaze. She’d smiled at him, and he’d smiled back. It’d been over two weeks, and there’d been no repercussions from giving her his name. He was beginning to think he hadn’t made a mistake.

He shook his head, realizing he’d finished emptying the jug. The basin in the chapel still had leftover blessed water. He turned to head back.

And bumped into somepony in the doorway. He recoiled, nearly dropping the jug when he saw it was Cadance. “Sorry,” he said.

“No, excuse me,” she said, taking a step back.

“Do you... need something?” he asked, glancing past her at her guards. They waited stoically by the entrance to the chapel.

“Can we talk?” she said.

He held up the jug in his levitation. “I’m in the middle of something.”

The white-robed cleric in charge of presiding over the service, Sigil, looked over at him and smiled. “Go ahead, Shining. I can finish up here.”

Shining Armor walked beside Cadance through the gardens surrounding the temple. All around him, green fronds stretched up toward the noon Sun. Beyond the gardens, a wall separated the temple grounds from the city.

“There haven’t been any more attacks, have there?” Shining Armor asked, trying to hide his concern with a mellow tone.

“None. There’s always guards with me now. There’s two more just outside this temple. They stand outside my door when I sleep. If someone is still after me, no one appears to want to risk the attempt,” Cadance said.

“So, why are you here?” Shining Armor said.

“I want to know more about you,” Cadance replied.

Sighing, Shining Armor stopped beneath the leafy canopy of a tree. “My answer hasn’t changed.”

“I know. I didn’t expect it to,” she said. She sat on her haunches beside the tree and smiled at him. “But I have other questions you might be able to answer.”

Shining Armor peered at her. “Like what?”

“Do you have anypony special in your life?”

Shining Armor blinked. “Orion, I suppose.” He settled beside her.

“Oh...” she said, glancing at the ground. “I didn’t know you were that way.” She looked at him, raising a brow. “Isn’t he a bit old?”

“Yeah, he’s very old.” Shining Armor said. “Why is that strange? He’s been kind enough to let me stay here and mentor me. I don’t know if that makes him special, but he’s the closest thing I’ve got.” He glanced at Cadance. “What do you mean by ‘that way’? What way?”

“Oh! I thought—” She laughed. “Nevermind.”

Shining Armor gave her a puzzled look. “What’s so funny?”

Cadance glanced up at the branches above them. “Are those plums? I love plums.”

He followed her gaze, nodding. With his levitation, he plucked one of the riper looking fruits from the branches and passed it to her. She took it with a smile, and bit into it. The juice dribbled down her chin. Her face twisted as she quickly swallowed.

“Not ripe?” Shining Armor asked.

She shook her head. “No, it’s ripe.” She smiled brightly. “It’s delicious. Here, have some,” she said as she passed him the plum.

Shining Armor took a small bite from the plum’s sweet flesh. He licked the juice off his lips. “Yep, it’s ripe,” he said.

“You keep it, I ate before I came here,” she said. He shrugged in response and took another bite. “So...” she said while he chewed. “No girls of note?”

Shining Armor swallowed. “Well, Jinx, I guess.” He looked at the ground, his face falling as he remembered the filly from the marketplace and the corpse on the balcony. “We met... a long time ago.”

“I see,” Cadance said, her gaze wandering. “Are you close?”

“We might have been. I think she was my only shot at a real friend, but I made a mistake and we got separated.” He sighed. “She’s gone now.”

“What happened to her?” Cadance asked.

“Remember the mare with the crossbows trying to kill you?” Shining Armor said.

Cadance nodded.

“I think that was her,” Shining Armor said. “I don’t know why she was there, or how she ended up in my line of work, but we crossed paths at the wrong time.” Shining Armor cringed internally as he realized what he said. I let my guard drop, he thought. He anxiously glanced at Cadance, wondering if she’d realized what he’d revealed.

“I’m so sorry,” Cadance said. She hoofed at the ground. “What’s it like? Having a violent line of work?”

Internally, Shining Armor sighed in relief. “There’s a lot of killing. I’ve felt... black – ever since I first killed a pony. It’s like there’s a shadow running through my veins that I can’t escape.” He looked at the temple. The shrine’s stained glass window gleamed in the sunlight. “It’s why I’m here now instead. It’s why I’m trying to be a cleric. I want to be better.”

He stiffened as Cadance nuzzled his shoulder. She immediately pulled away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t be,” he interrupted. “It was just unexpected, is all.” He swallowed.

She smiled and nuzzled his chin. He returned the affectionate gesture, his heart racing as he inhaled her scent. Her lips brushed his cheek, and the plum slipped from his levitation and landed in the dirt between the tree’s roots. “I’m glad you were there,” she whispered.

She pulled away a moment later, and immediately, he missed her closeness. “I have to go,” she said. “But I’ll be back next week.” She stood up and took a step away. “I had your armor repaired; I hope you don’t mind. It’s been delivered to your quarters here, along with your shield and bow.”

“Goodbye,” he said, warm feelings fluttering through his chest.

She paused, glancing over her shoulder. “One more thing. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about ‘the Bloodhound’, would you?”

He froze. The warmth in his chest vanished, replaced by a chill. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Why?”

“I did some digging, and I rumor’s say he’s one of the assassins that was after me,” Cadance said.

“I’ll let you know if I remember anything about him,” Shining Armor said.

Shining Armor poured over the pages of a book, illuminated by a stubby candle burning on his desk. He read the words, but he couldn’t remember the previous sentence or the slightest scrap of context. He tried to focus his wandering mind, but by the third time he started at the beginning of the same page, he gave up.

He dropped his head and rested his temple on the pages with a sigh. Barely two hoofspans away, his armor rested atop a small chest in the corner of the room. He could see the freshly forged links where a hole had been ripped by the bolt. It had hit him between the ribs and thoroughly punctured his right lung. He was lucky to be alive.

His masked helm stared back at him from on top of his shield. It beckoned to him, invoking memories of the life he’d left behind: the thrill of the hunt, the smell of blood in the air, the surge of satisfaction when the moment finally came and he took a life. Inside of the helm, and inside of him, was an empty void; it needed to be filled. The nightmares were getting worse.

He turned away from the helm and leaned back in his chair. My life is better now, he told himself. His room was even smaller than the one he had in the guildhouse, but here he had friends, rather than business acquaintances. He didn’t get paid, and he’d left all of his money behind, but the temple had a sizeable collection of books.

And then, there was her. Every week, he counted the days until she visited. Usually, they’d walk through the gardens, but twice, they went somewhere else. She called them dates. There’d been five so far, not counting the first one. Usually, they ended in a kiss. Sometimes it was light and quick, and sometimes it was long, deep, and passionate. He loved them all.

Every week, he came closer to slipping and revealing the truth. Every day, he wondered why she was interested in him at all. She’d grown up in luxury; he’d fought for scraps on the street. He was a killer; she glowed with kindness. I don’t deserve her, he thought.

A hoof rapped on the stones at the entrance to his room. He looked up. Ginger, a fellow acolyte, stood in the doorway. “Shining! Orion says it’s time for you to try healing. Somepony brought in a hurt dog!” she yelled.

Shining Armor stood over the altar. Ginger restrained a medium sized dog with a patchy coat on the stone. A ragged gash ran down the animal’s calf. According to the owner, the dog tried to squirm under a fence and got cut by a rusty, protruding nail. The wound might heal with time, but gangrene was likely, and the dog was bleeding profusely.

I am a conduit for Celestia’s light, Shining Armor recited in his mind as he lifted one of his forehooves. Here, in the shrine, was the easiest place to perform the magic he needed. He hoped that Celestia’s power could wash away the shadows he felt.

“You can do this, Shining Armor,” Orion said from beside him.

Taking deep breaths, Shining Armor reached out toward the injured animal. He looked up at Celestia’s visage above him. Though no light lit the window from outside, light from candles in the shrine reflected off the colored panes, revealing her shape. Help me.

The dog growled at him as his hoof drew closer. “Easy, girl,” the owner said, standing off to the side. Shining touched her leg next to the wound.

Trying to channel energy into the wound, he focused on the point of contact. He closed his eyes, feeling deep for the connection to the Celestial Plane that was supposed to manifest. He found nothing.

He wasn’t sure how long he tried before Orion gently ushered him aside. A minute, perhaps. He sat beside the altar and watched, helpless, as golden light filled Orion’s eyes and the dog’s leg became whole. A few seconds later, she was wagging her tail and jumping around her owner. Shining Armor saw the pony donate a hoofful of bits on her way out.

Shining Armor sat against the outer wall of the shrine. The crescent Moon bathed the gardens around him in a gentle white glow. “Why didn’t it work?”

“I’ve always found it harder at night,” Orion said from beside him.

“I don’t understand,” Shining Armor continued, “I did everything I was supposed to. I devoted myself to her. I wanted to help ponies. It shouldn’t matter if it’s night or day.”

Orion sighed deeply. “Celestia doesn’t ask for your devotion, she asks that you give to others and spread her light.”

Shining Armor hoofed at the dirt. “I know... I just meant I’ve tried.”

“And you’ve done a fine job.”

“Then why didn’t it work?” Shining asked.

Orion rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. Sometimes, it takes time to develop the connection.”

“Or maybe I’m not good enough to serve her,” Shining Armor said. “What if what I’ve done has ruined any chance I had?”

Orion shifted, his old bones creaking, and gently touched Shining Armor’s shoulder. “Don’t give up, Shining. Don’t look to your past, look to your potential. Be patient.”

My potential, Shining Armor thought. Do I have the potential to heal, or only to kill? Can I be saved?

Shining Armor stopped in front of Cadance’s estate. Cadance leaned against his side, her warmth passing through his coat. Their evening together had been wonderful, driving the previous day’s failure in the shrine from his mind.

“We’re here,” he said.

She murred and rested her head on his shoulder. “I know.”

He chuckled. “Why aren’t you going in?”

“One, I’d like to spend more time with you,” she said, wrapping one of her forelegs around his, “and two, I think I need another kiss.” She looked up at him expectantly.

Shining Armor turned his head and leaned in to meet her lips. It started slow, but quickly escalated. She slid her tongue slid into his mouth. She hadn’t done that before. He liked it.

When they eventually pulled apart, he caught a scornful glare from one of her usually professional guards. He ignored it, focusing on the beautiful mare beside him. She gazed back at him, a soft smile on her lips, and whispered, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he murmured as she walked away from him. Her guards escorted her through the gate in the estate’s wall, and soon, he was standing alone in the street. “I’m so lucky,” he said quietly, smiling to himself.

“Are you now?” a voice said from beside him.

Shining Armor jumped. He turned to look at the speaker. A pony in a dark cloak lurked on the edge of the street. “Who are you?” Shining Armor asked, glaring at the figure.

“Don’t you remember me, Shiny?” The pony threw back his hood. Shining Armor recognized him as Vellum. “You disappear, and now, when you turn up, you’re having a sloppy make-out session with the target, which begs the question: why isn’t she dead yet?”

Shining Armor lunged at him, using his larger body to pin Vellum against the wall. “Quiet!” he hissed.

He felt a prick at his chin. Vellum’s switchblade hovered beneath his jaw, ready to stab up into the underside of his mouth. “Are you getting soft, Bloodhound?” Vellum whispered.

“Why does it matter?” Shining Armor growled, ignoring the blade beneath his head.

“Because the Vixen wants you to know that the contract is still on. She thinks the rest of the players have given up, and by some stroke of brilliance or luck, you’ve gotten close. You still have a chance to give her results,” Vellum said.

“And if I don’t?” Shining Armor asked.

“We both know our family isn’t the most forgiving.”

Shining Armor sighed and released Vellum. “Tell her I need a weapon,” he said. “I’ll admit, I’ve gotten attached. I can’t choke her or something. It needs to be quick.”

Vellum nodded and pushed his switchblade back into its sheath. “Like ripping off a bandage.”

“I’ll stop by the guildhouse tomorrow and get something,” Shining Armor said.

Shining Armor sat on a low bench in the temple gardens beside Orion. A puddle collected in the crags of the stone path beside the bench from that evening’s watering reflected the glimmering night sky. He faced Orion.

“What did you want to discuss, Shining?” Orion asked.

Shining Armor ran his hooves along the wooden slats of the bench. “If you knew somepony was putting somepony you loved, your daughter for example, in danger, what would you do to stop them?”

Orion took a slow breath. “I love my daughter very much, and she has wonderful children who rely on her. I suppose I’d do just about anything in my power to protect her.”

“Even if it meant killing?”

“If someone was trying to kill her, in a heartbeat.”

Shining Armor quirked a brow at Orion. “And Celestia would approve of that?”

Orion shook his head. “I can’t claim to speak for Celestia. All I know is what I think is right, and if protecting what you love isn’t right, I don’t know what is.” He focused on Shining Armor. “Killing is a terrible thing, but sometimes, it’s something you have to do.”

“I think I’m in love,” Shining Armor murmured, staring at his reflection in the puddle. And she’s in danger, he thought.

“Then why are you so morbid, young man,” Orion said with a smile. “Cadance is a wonderful mare. Be happy.” He shivered. “Come on, let’s go inside. This night air is getting to me.”

Shining Armor stood and helped Orion off the bench. He glanced at the stained glass window. I hope you can forgive me, for what I’m about to do, he thought.

Covered by his armor, Shining Armor tapped the edge of his shield against the guildhouse door. He waited patiently. Within a few moments, a small peephole slid open. “Password,” a voice said.

Shining Armor focused on the door and cast a spell: Knock. It flew off its hinges and into the pony behind it, then hit a wall inside with a vicious crack. He followed it, leading with his shield, and nocked an arrow on the string of his bow. The light of the dawn streamed through the doorway behind him, casting shadows inside the guildhouse.

A flicker of movement on the stairway caught his attention. He drew back the string and fired. His arrow thunked into something fleshy and a cry of pain filled the air. He nocked a second arrow and fired again. Another fleshy hit – then silence.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the pony between the door and the wall groaned. He rushed forward, his hooves thundering on the wooden floor, and smashed his shield down on an exposed limb, leaving it a twisted mess. The pony screamed. Shock and blood loss would finish her.

Hooves drummed on the second floor, where most of the ponies slept. They were coming. He glimpsed a quiver leaning against the wall near the door, and snatched it up, adding another dozen arrows to his supply. Repositioning, he nocked another arrow and raised his bow.

He hit the first individual to appear solidly in the chest. At this range, it was hard to miss. The griffon slumped down the steps, a loaded crossbow falling out of his talons. Shining Armor wasn’t ready with another arrow when someone else moved at the top of the air. A unicorn poked around the corner with a bow and fired. The arrow thunked into Shining Armor’s shield.

Shining Armor retaliated with a Magic Missile spell. A purple orb jumped from his horn and struck the unicorn. She staggered on the steps from the hit, and he finished her with an arrow. A door to his left slammed open.

The cook rushed at him from the doorway with a cleaver in his mouth, likely trying to catch him by surprise. Shining Armor flipped his shield sideways and met the cook’s charge with the bladed edge, eviscerating him. He shoved the body away, and turned his attention back to the stairs.

His eyes tracked a small pouch flung from the door at the top of the stairs until it struck the floorboards in front of him.

Boom!

White light filled his senses. His ears rang. Blinded, he stepped back and cast Shield to protect himself. Flash powder, he realized.

When his sight cleared a moment later, shadows clung to the edges of his vision. There were two targets in sight: The first was a filly barely old enough to be called a mare fumbling with the loaded crossbow. She was about the same age he’d been when he’d first come here. The second was a pony with a hoof mace and a breastplate at the bottom of the stairs, one of the bounty hunters.

I have to kill them all, Shining Armor thought. No memories can remain.

The filly managed an accurate shot. It deflected off his arcane shield. He returned fire, shredding her shoulder with an arrow. She screamed as she lost her balance and tumbled down the steps.

The pony with a hoof mace lunged at him. He knocked the blow aside with his shield, then ran the bladed edge up along the pony’s torso. The metal rim sparked off his attacker’s breastplate and drew a red line across his throat. Almost instantly, blood surged from the wound. The pony stumbled, shaking his head, then slumped to the floor.

Something stung Shining Armor in his exposed calf. He whirled. Vellum pranced away from him, the spike on the tip of his tail red with blood. “Shiny! What are you doing!” Vellum shouted.

Shining Armor took a step forward, numbness quickly spreading across his wounded leg. The poison burned as it seeped through his veins. Vellum maneuvered, staying just out of reach.

Shining Armor snapped his bow up and took a shot. His arrow skewered Vellum through the elbow. With Vellum hobbled, he closed and smashed his shield into his enemy’s face. Vellum staggered backwards and hit the wall, his nose bleeding profusely. Shining Armor took another step, dragging his lip hind leg, and closed enough to press his forehoof against Vellum’s throat.

Shining Armor saw Vellum’s switchblade pass through his foreleg, but he felt nothing. Shadows surged inside of him as Vellum’s fur turned to ash. He watched Vellum’s skin turn black and wither away. Shining Armor’s pricked leg stopped burning.

The switchblade pulled free as Vellum went limp, and the hole it left behind closed. Panting and invigorated, Shining Armor released Vellum’s withered body and turned. If his count was right, there should only be one more individual in the guildhouse. He advanced on the door to the Vixen’s office.

After smashing his way through the door, he found her cowering behind her desk. “Shiny! We can work something out!” she shouted. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. He put an arrow between her eyes.

Shoving the body aside, he searched the Vixen’s bloodstained desk until he found the contract. It gave no hints about the identity of the customer, so he burned it. On his way out, he followed the filly’s blood trail upstairs and executed her before she could escape out a window. If there were any witnesses, another branch of the Thieves Guild would seek revenge on him. He also took any bits he could find, hoping it would make it look like the killings were motivated by greed.

Shining Armor walked toward the front gates of Cadance’s estate. Daylight shafted in through the eyeholes of his mask. He carried his shield slung across his back. Blood dripped off the rim and stained his armor.

It happened again, he thought as he approached the gates. The shadows had taken him when he fought Vellum. It had saved his life from the poison, but all he could think about was the desiccated husk and the mutilated corpses he’d left behind.

He still remembered that night all those years ago, with the ponies in robes gathered around the altar. He thought he could escape the shadows. For weeks, he’d lived a peaceful life, but the moment the rush of battle returned, he reveled in it. I was born to kill, he thought. He was a pony, but he knew he was something else as well; they called him a Shadowspawn.

When he reached the gates, two guards blocked his path. “Halt!” they shouted, brandishing their spears aggressively. I look like a murderer, he realized. He recognized this pair from one of his dates with Cadance, but they’d never seen him in armor. He glanced down the street. He could turn away, ditch his armor and weapons in the bay, and pretend this never happened. He could be happy with Cadance.

There’s one more thing I have to do before she’s safe, he thought. He pulled off his helmet. “Tell Lady Cadance Shining Armor is here to see her,” he said.

They both took a step back in surprise. “I’ll… let her know,” one of them said as she turned away and headed for the front doors of the house.

The other kept his weapon ready. Shining Armor passively plopped onto his haunches. He regarded the guard. Unbidden, various ways he could kill the pony in front of him appeared in his mind. He tried to ignore them. Ponies in the street stopped to stare at the bloody unicorn facing off with the noble guard. He tried to ignore them too.

Finally, the messenger returned. “She’ll see you on the veranda,” she said. Both guards stepped aside for him. He walked through the gates, feeling their wary eyes on him.

He crossed the courtyard and entered the house. It looked different with sunlight streaming in through the windows – welcoming. The last time he’d been inside, he’d been here to kill. Now, he could admire the open, vaulted ceiling and the glittering chandelier.

A servant stared at him as he climbed the stairs, but he ignored her. He could see fresh paint on the window frame ahead, where the shattered panes had been replaced. This time, he found a door. She wasn’t there, so he sat on his haunches beside a wicker couch, set his helmet down on a table, and waited.

The east and the west wings of the house flanked the veranda, enclosing a courtyard behind the house. Beneath him, a well-kept garden buzzed with life. Bees and butterflies flitted between blooming flowers. He swallowed as he thought about what he was going to say. When you tell her why you were there that night, you’re going to hurt her, he told himself, but he’d already made up his mind.

“I didn’t expect you, Shining,” Cadance’s melodious voice called out to his right. He turned his head to look at her as she stepped through a doorway. She stopped short. “Shining, what happened? Are you alright?”

He opened his mouth to speak, and three words fell out. “I love you.” They weren’t the words he planned to say.

She blinked at him, speechless for a moment.

This can’t be happening, he thought. He swallowed, futilely trying to wet his dry mouth. A dull throb echoed in his chest. He turned away from her, unable to look at her when he spoke. “And that’s why I have to tell you the truth.”

“What truth?” she asked.

He leaned his forehooves on the railing and swallowed again before continuing. “That night, when I saved your life, I came here to kill you.” He closed his eyes tight. Her hooves clipped on the wood. She was stepping closer.

“I know,” she said. “I found out you were the Bloodhound after you gave me your name.”

He opened his eyes and turned to her. “You do? Then why did you—“

“Because you didn’t,” she interrupted with a soft smile on her lips. “You had the opportunity to, but you chose not to.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “I was wounded! How did you know I wasn’t just trying to get out alive? How do you know I’m not still trying to kill you?”

She reached up and touched his cheek with a hoof. “I didn’t. When I saw you the second time, it looked for all the world like you were trying to change. It was a risk I was willing to take, and it was worth it.”

It all makes sense, he realized. He recoiled, taking a step away from her. “You used me,” he growled. “Why else would a pony like you be so interested in a killer like me?”

She cringed, hurt passing across her face. “Shining, I—“

He scowled. “Well, it worked. I knew where they were. I stopped them. I killed them all. I burned the contract. You’re safe now.” He turned away from her, heading for the door. “I’m glad you think it was worth it.”

“Shining, wait,” she said, catching his shoulder with a hoof.

He shook her off and stepped into the house, blinking away tears.

“I love you too!” she cried.

He froze mid-step, his foreleg cocked.

“I didn’t want you to kill anypony for me! You’re handsome, noble, smart, and wonderful.” She rushed past him, blocking his path. She focused on him, her violet eyes ablaze. “I wanted to be with you because my heart told me I was safe with you; even though I knew it was risky.”

She wrapped her hooves around his neck. Blood still clinging to his armor stained her fur, but she didn’t seem to care. She kissed him, and he kissed her back. When she pulled away, she whispered, “You are my guardian angel. If I believe it, who’s to say you’re not?” She pressed her cheek against his. “Please don’t leave me,” she breathed in his ear. “Stay with me.”

Shining Armor rushed through the main entrance to the temple. A silk vest rustled against his fur; it was a piece of finery given to him by Cadance. Tonight was the night.

How could I forget it?! he thought. Sweat clung to the pads of his hooves as he headed down the corridor to his humble room, despite the chill carried by the stones. Cadance had asked him to escort her to the Hearth’s Warming ball, and he was already late.

In his room, he found the small padded box. He snatched it up quickly checked its contents. A golden band set with a beautifully cut amethyst stone rested inside the box, sized for a unicorn’s horn. It had cost him all of gold he’d taken from the guildhouse to commision it. Satisfied, he tucked it safely into a pocket in his vest and darted back out of the room.

Maybe it’s too soon, he thought. Doubts had raced through his mind since he first conceived of the plan to propose to Cadance: Her mother wouldn’t approve; he had no family name – no pedigree of note. They’d only been together a few months. Among the nobility, the mare was supposed to pick the stallion.

He hesitated, considering leaving the ring behind.

A cough echoed down the empty halls. His ears perked. It came from the chapel. Isn’t everypony outside for the festival? he thought. He headed toward the source of the sound.

When he stepped through the chapel doors, he stopped in shock. Orion lay in a crumpled heap in the middle of the floor. He clutched a sealed bottle of wine in one foreleg and held his gut with the other. His breaths came in ragged gasps. A sheen of cold sweat covered his coat.

Shining Armor surged forward. “Orion?! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Shining,” he said. “It’s time.”

Shining Armor lifted Orion gently in his levitation. He draped one of the old cleric’s forelegs over his shoulder. “It’s your heart, isn’t it?” he asked. “It’s happening again.”

Orion nodded.

“We have to get you to Sigil! She can fix you,” Shining Armor said.

“Not this time,” Orion said, his weak voice barely audible. “She’s with her family on the other side of the city.”

Shining Armor took a careful step toward the door, helping Orion along. “Then we’ll take you somewhere else.”

Orion dragged his hooves. He moved without urgency. “You’re going to propose to her tonight, aren’t you?”

Shining Armor shifted, working to reposition Orion onto his back. Just keep him talking, he thought. “I don’t know. I’m afraid she won’t say yes.”

Orion grunted as Shining Armor pulled him up. “You have to. You two are meant for each other.” He glanced at the bottle of wine on the floor. “She’ll say yes. It’s why I was getting the wine ready.”

Shining Armor smiled. He blinked back tears as he settled Orion’s body on his back and took a step toward the door. “Then we’ll all have a drink to celebrate,” he said.

“I’m not going to be there, Shining. I wish I could, but not even Celestia can heal old age.”

Shining Armor shook his head. “What’re you talking about? You’ll be there. We can fix this.”

“You need to let me go,” Orion said.

Shining Armor felt the body on his back go limp. “Orion?!” he shouted. No response. He stamped his hoof in frustration, and turned toward the shrine.

This has to work, he thought. He rushed into the small room and laid Orion’s motionless body on the altar. This time, I can do it, Shining Armor told himself.

He raised his forehoof and gazed up at the stained glass window. “I need him, you hear me?!” he shouted at visage of Celestia. “I need him to be better! I need him to be good enough for her!”

He reached for the connection that should be there, and this time, he felt something. A deep well of divine power rose to his command. His foreleg tingled, and he reached down and pressed his hoof against Orion’s chest.

Orion’s fur withered away. Shining Armor immediately pulled his hoof back, but it was too late. The wisps of satisfaction he felt every time he took a life coursed through him.

He felt sick.

“Why didn’t you save him?!” Shining Armor roared up at Celestia. He slammed his hooves down on the edge of the altar, chipping away a chunk of stone. “Why can’t you save me?!”

The stained glass stayed silent and motionless.

“I tried!” he shouted. “I did everything I could! What more do you want from me?!”

Celestia said nothing.

With a snort, Shining Armor turned away from the shrine, never to return.

The heat from a glowing red forge seared Shining Armor’s coat. He eyed the pieces of a suit of black armor laid out on a scorched oaken table appreciatively. He lifted the thick helm in his levitation. A demonic visage worked into the metal stared back at him.

A smith stepped up beside him. “This is what you wanted, right?” she said, wiping sweat from her brow.

Shining Armor nodded. This is the way it has to be, he thought. He’d married Cadance, like he planned. She’d wanted to marry him, and he couldn’t turn away from her, but if she was going to have her guardian angel, it would have to be an angel of darkness. Just before the wedding, he’d taken some of what she’d inherited from her mother and had this suit of armor made.

“It had a real nice sheen before I stained it,” the smith said. “Why’d it have to be black?”

Shining Armor set the helm back down on the table. “Because some things can’t be escaped,” he said. He wrapped his levitation around the breastplate.

“Careful, with the thickness you asked for, it’s going to be heavy even with the enchantments,” the smith said.

Shining Armor easily lifted the breastplate from the table. “I can handle it.” He peered at the enhancing runes on the inside surface before positioning the plate on his chest.

The smith shifted on her hooves. “I could get one of my apprentices to help you put it on, if you want to see how it fits.”

Shining Armor shook his head as he tightened the straps with his levitation. “I need to know how to put it on alone.”

One by one, he fixed the pieces of armor to his body. It was as heavy as he expected platemail to be, even with the magic. The protection it offered would be excellent.

I’m going to put it in a shell, he thought. He would be Shining Armor by day, and a monster by night. It was the only way to keep Cadance safe. The monster could hunt and sate his thirst. The threats to her would never go away, but the monster could kill them.

When he fixed the last piece onto his back, he turned to look at the smith. “Where’s the shield?” he asked.

“Here it is,” she said as she picked up a monolithic piece of metal leaning against the table. With a grunt, she shoved it up onto the table. A sharpened, serrated edge ran down one side of the shield. Arcane runes adorned the surface. They would deflect spells. “I had a wizard enchant it just this morning.”

“You didn’t tell him who the buyer was, did you?” Shining Armor asked.

She shook her head. “Of course not. Nopony knows but me.”

Shining Armor picked up the helm and placed it securely on his head. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, digging deep into the well of divine power within him. Shadows coursed through his veins.

The Black Knight opened his eyes. Shining Armor would be a better pony, the pony Cadance deserved, and the Black Knight would do what was needed. He flicked up the shield in his levitation, and with one brutal swing, spattered blood on the wall of the smithy.

The plates of his armor clinked as he stepped over the body. “Now no one knows.”

The Black Knight was born to kill.

Tales of the Sword Coast

by AdrianVesper

The Jester and the Thief

The Black Knight: Part I

The Black Knight: Part II