A forgotten legend, detailing how the Tribes rose to be the dominant species.
Set in the distant time, of the Tribes' first documented history, lived a legendary blacksmith by the name of Farrier. He was a mighty pony, whose hammer pounding against his anvil would drive most away from his cave, and whose blades and shields, which are highly renowned even in the present day. His three greatest masterpieces forever changed the way the world viewed ponies...
The darkness of the cave was distantly illuminated by two blades, which rested side-by-side, near the back. One glowed orange, the other, lavender. A small, steady breathing was heard within, as a figure in the shadows ruffled through what sounded like paper. A small flame was lit, the yellow, overgrown spark dancing in the candle's wick, casting a light over the over-sized, peculiarly-shaped forge, resting in one side of the cave. A bulky, soot-covered pony rested by the edge of the forge, his eyes narrowed, riffling through a chest that resided next to the dull, unused coals. After a minute or two of searching, he retrieved what looked like a ruby that gave off it's own light. He raised it, over the candle, smiling with satisfaction as the gem began to glow, with heat. With no time to waste, he cast it into the forge, where an unnatural, boiling temperature began to radiate from, the enchanted ruby heating the interior.
He sat for what felt like hours, staring into the forge, observing the coals. Watching. Waiting, as they slowly changed from the influence of the magic he had cast inside, from a dull black, to a simple yellow...A tame red...Agitated orange...Seething white...And finally, traces of the rageful blue. He drew a sharp breath, waiting one second. Two. Before snapping one of his hooves into the hearth, a metal sleeve with tongs on end coating the arm. Within a single second, a glowing blade was retrieved from the embers, to be slammed against a giant hunk of iron. A select few coals spilled onto the floor from the sudden movement, as the blacksmith raised his left hoof--which was attached to a hammer that covered most of his arm--and slammed it onto the blade.
The resounding sound pierced through the silence, echoing through to the entrance of the cave, vibrating the air...Yet, the sheet of metal remained unaffected, save for the orange imprint of the hammer, which rapidly resumed the blue glow of the rest of it's body. The blacksmith raised his hoof once again, delivering another crashing blow onto the metal, the air shying away from the unrelenting force.
For an indefinite amount of time, the blacksmith repeated that same action, his hammer's surface beginning to glow red from the repeated exposure to the now-white-hot metal...And once the blacksmith was satisfied, he cast the metal--which was in the vague shape of a sword--into a dark liquid. The oil's surface caught on fire, as the depths cooled the blade...
The blacksmith slowly turned his gaze to the forge, which had surrendered to a dull red, in the time he spent folding the metal. He grunted, beginning to pick the coals that had spilled from the forge off the ground with his tongs, setting them back inside their home. With a sigh of satisfaction, he laid down onto the floor, listening to the bubbling of the oil...Rising, once it stopped, to repeat the process once more.
He fished it out, from the black depths of the black liquid, marveling at the tinted blue surface.
"...My dream...Is within my grasp." He murmured to himself, setting the blade back inside the coals, opening his chest to once again withdraw an enchanted gem to super-heat the coals, "ponykind will no longer...Be underestimated."
"Two are already created. This is the last one, isn't it?" A new voice asked, coming from a silhouette leaning near the exit of the cave. "Helios, Eos...And this is Selene, right?"
"Indeed..." The elder pony responded, focusing once more on his craft.
He allowed the candle's flame to lick the ruby.
And threw it in.
All the while, the two swords that rested in the back, in their sheaths, awaiting their sibling...
Abel yelped, hitting the ground with a thud, having been thrown by the larger pony. Groaning, he held his sore ribs, before accepting the hoof being offered to help him up.
"Would it kill you if you went easy on me?" He asked irritably, glancing in his instructor's direction.
He shook his head. "It very well might kill you, if I don't push you hard enough. The world is dangerous, Abel. Full of creatures who prefer not to take it easy."
Abel groaned, again. He had heard this speech a dozen times before, and even understood fully why it made sense. "I know, I know..."
"Us Earth Ponies have no natural defenses against enemies. We can't fly to safety, nor magic our way out of a situation." The larger pony went on regardless, starting to walk around Abel in a slow circle, "the only thing we have at our disposal, is our strength, our connection with the Earth, and our capacity to use those talents."
"Which is why we have to train--"
"Which is why we have to train, Abel."
He mumbled something along the lines of 'understood', before looking around the two. The large, circular sand dune surrounded the two, stretching for ten feet in every direction. A little to the north, a village was seen in the distance, small figures working to erect a third wooden fence around the perimeter would be seen.
Abel sighed.
For as long as he could remember, Earth Ponies were always the most vulnerable of the three Tribes. Monsters generally preferred to prey on them, regardless of the fact they were likely to have a tooth knocked out in the process. Better then getting an eye sliced by a wing, or a hole burned into their fur from a nasty spell. Which in turn meant that they had to train the hardest, and send a message to their predators that they weren't for eating. Which didn't always work, but then again, that's all they got.
"Alright, concentrate, we're going to try that foresight technique one more. Then we'll be done."
Abel sighed, and closed his eyes. He pressed his forehooves in on the ground, casting his will, his 'Earth Pony Magic', into the depths of the ground, to act as an 'antenna' of sorts...Feeling around, for movements in the area around his own.
This technique, pioneered by Brugulf, the first unofficial leader of their Tribe, was created for awareness purposes. Once you extend your will into the Earth, it split the same way a tree's roots did. And the Earth's will, in return, multiplied it's sensitivity, letting you feel through the area in a 360 degree angle. As long as the creature you were feeling for was close enough, and traveled on land...You'd feel it running. Or approaching. Some of the Earth Ponies used it for hunting. Others use it for fighting predators in the dark. Whatever way you used it...It was effective. Almost everyone, after enough training, can do it with their eyes open. A few of the gifted users could see for entire miles...Brugulf did it passively.
If only he was good at it, too.
But that was beside the point. He was training to get better at utilizing it, and was actually making progress. His 'roots' spread around a meter into the ground, which let him see around five meters around himself. But it was sketchy--images he 'saw' flickered in and out. Like a distorted world, that seemed unstable. He could see his trainer creeping around him...With silent hoofsteps, forcing him to use Foresight...His form, flickering, glitching in and out of sight. Before a particularly long pause in his sight set Abel on edge--seeing a form coming in from his right, a half-second spent registering that fact, his legs bracing to dodge before being bowled over.
He sprawled on the ground, the air being knocked from him. He coughed, gasping for air. "That could've gone better..."
"Could've gone a lot worse, too." The pony replied, offering a hoof.
Abel took it gratefully, "we getting a bite to eat after this? Training is so...Exhausting."
The pony nodded. "Come on, Abel...We'll get you some mangoes."
Abel breathed a sigh of relief, beginning to walk after the larger, retreating pony. "Thanks, dad."
~~~
Once they reached the town, they were greeted by the guard outside the wooden gates, who was fully armored with well-forged steel armor, although to Equestria's present standards, it would be poor in comparison. A spear rested against his shoulder. He nodded at the two, opening the gate, letting the two in. "I presume you had a good session?" He asked with a deep voice, though friendly.
"Abel's been showing a lot of progress. Although, his strongest trait is swordplay, compared to the other attributes..."
Abel smiled sheepishly, shying away from being praised by his father, in front of a stranger. But even he couldn't deny his uncanny talent with a sword. Opposed to his strength, hunting skills, and Foresight, his swordplay outclassed all by leaps and bounds. He could only shrug, and nod in agreement.
"Really, now? Swordplay?" The guard asked, raising an eyebrow. "Haven't had a swordspony since Farrier's colt. Who...Went with him, when he left in search of better ore. A fool, really..."
"Ah, don't be so quick to dismiss one of our own. Who knows, Farrier might be alive yet. And I have no doubts his colt has grown into a formidable swordspony in his own regard." His father replied, with a gentle wave of his hoof.
Abel kept quiet. Farrier was a sore topic, for a lot of ponies, in here. Their blacksmith, before he suddenly decided on leaving. Raving about some kind of legendary ore in the mountains, he left, his son following close behind...Who wasn't really his son by blood, or so Abel had heard, but an adoptive relationship. The fact that their blacksmith left, leaving them with the armor and weapons he had crafted in his past.
Which amounted to roughly twelve sets of armor, a hammer he dubbed Weather, and a few shields with interesting design...Not a lot, for an entire Tribe to thrive off. But at least he didn't leave nothing, the equipment he left behind allowed the Tribe to form their own crude guard. Which were their main defense against creatures that would prey on them...
The leader of this group--his father--used Weather, seeing as his skill with the weapon was the best in the Tribe. Monsters had learned to back off, once his father readied the war-hammer...More then once, he's smashed the skull of a creature that lunged at him. He was admired...And ponies expected his son to inherit his gear, one day. Of course, this was set to happen in the distant future...But Abel wasn't so sure he would inherit Weather. Giant hammers weren't his forte. Too many things could go wrong...A simple dodge leaves you wide open. You have to make that one shot count--or risk getting done in, by a pair of teeth lunging for your neck.
But it hardly mattered. He was going to use swords, anyways--its just what felt right.
He dragged his mind back to reality, where his dad and the guard were still talking. They looked...Still friendly, to Abel's relief. Finishing with their agreement, that Farrier at least managed to set up a working space in the mountains, somewhere. Abel frowned, wondering if there had been anybody that ventured to the distant mountain, curious if Farrier was alive and well. He vaguely wondered if his father would authorize such a mission...After all, the mountains were chock-full of creatures just as dangerous as dragons.
"Where you headin', now?" The guard went on.
"To the local tavern. Gonna grab a mead to drink--and a few mango for the colt."
"I'm fifteen..." Abel mumbled, with a distantly annoyed expression.
"Right. A colt." His father grinned, before beginning to lead him once more. The guard waved cheerfully, as the two left, closing the gates once more, to resume his watch for creatures...
Abel grumbled something about turning sixteen next month. His father merely rustled his mane, in response.
"C'mon, smile a bit. You wont get this moment back."
"I wont miss it..." Abel muttered back, concealing a small smirk. "Especially if it's spent in embarrassment."
"Ah, but that's the beauty of life, lad! You have your moments, regardless if it's in glory or not!" His father exclaimed, pushing into the tavern--which was basically the only place in the Tribe one could get their refreshments and food.
"...Yeah, guess you're right." He murmured, walking in after his father, being greeted by a cheer on the inside. Ponies of varying sizes, some his age, some ancient, but all friendly. All raising whatever drink their hoof was clasped upon...And all wearing a wide, goofy smile.
Abel smiled in return. Their Tribe might be vulnerable to the natural predators...But the welcoming nature of the Tribe more then made up for it. He felt as if it were one giant family, to eat, drink, and fight together...
Apollo flexed his wings, standing in the line. This was it, the moment his entire life had been leading up to. The decision that would dictate the rest of his life. It was time to see what type of Pegasus he was.
The Pegasus Tribe had two lifestyles the members within could pursue. There were the Battle Pegasi, who are drafted into the Guard, to train, and do their Tribe proud. Fight to protect the others, and assert dominance over the other Tribes. That's what they did. That was the glorious path.
That was the path he wanted.
On the other hoof, the alternative was...Laborer Pegasi. They were the backbone of the Tribe, working to build houses, sew clothes, smith equipment, trade with the other Tribes, and basically anything else the Battle Guard didn't do. It wasn't an easy life--but at least they were respected by their fellow Pegasi.
Apollo looked ahead, in the line. There was a simple test, to determine what kind of life you were gonna live, and you only got to take it three times. He could hear the dull grunt, as the one's at the front of the line had their try with the test. He shuffled nervously, looking behind him. The mare he saw had her eyes closed, mouth silently moving, as if recounting lessons. He couldn't blame her. He was going through what he'd do, when it was his turn, too.
He flexed his wings again. The test was simple. Fortify their wings, to make them razor-sharp, and slice through a block of rubber. A few judges examine how fast you were, how far you cut, and how long it took to execute. Apollo swallowed. Fortify was a technique exclusive to Pegasi--they strengthened their will in their wings, until they gained the desirable properties able to produce slicing power. Granted, almost every pegasus can use it, but only a few could make their wings harder then solid steel. In fact...Only two, total, in the Tribe could leave a shredded shield on a good day. Everyone else could only make their wings durable, leagues above it's normal state.
Apollo counted the number of ponies left in line, for the umpteenth time. Twelve. That's good, only a matter of time before it was his turn...He recounted his mother's advice, from their earliest memories, when he first inquired how someone passed the test.
'Just go for it--flex, aim, and attack.'
Apollo swallowed again. He needed to relax. After all, a nervous, flustered pegasus can't Fortify. It even causes the opposite effect, when a pegasus tries. A term used by most of the younger ponies, and a few of the adults, when this happens, was that they got 'jelly wings.' If a pegasus is swallowed by anxiety, and they attempt to Fortify...Their wings turn brittle, soft...Breakable. A piercing scream that had Apollo snapping his head to look at the front of the line, proved that fact.
A yellow pegasus, nursing a wing bent at an odd angle, was being escorted off the cloud.
'He must've been too hesitant,' Apollo thought to himself, feeling a pit of worry begin to form in his stomach. He rustled his wings, hoping the feeling'll go away. 'Hope he wanted to be a laborer, anyways.'
He sighed to himself. Long shot, there. If someone didn't want to be a Battle Pony, then they wouldn't be taking this test. Regardless, there was always the thought that the pegasus messed up on purpose, because a demanding parent made him take the test...?
Five ponies left. He wondered when the line got so short. Then again, this was a test that only took a few seconds. You just...Stepped up, attacked, and hoped for the best. Four ponies.
He flexed his wings. Three more. He wondered what would happen if someone was perfectly balanced between confidence and fear, Fortifying. Probably nothing. Two. He distantly wondered if he should start letting ponies go before him.
One.
He swallowed, stepping up to the five-feet long runway. There was, as he had expected, a rubber cube waiting, held in place by a large, cloud pillar. A hole carved inside the pillar, in which the rubber resided, around as high as Apollo's chest. The cube itself was roughly three feet long, and high. It looked slightly bruised, as if someone had been using it as a punching bag for years. Apollo grit his teeth, fixating his gaze on the target. He flexed his right wing, focusing his will, which slowly began to vibrate at a low frequency, singling that it was ready to use offensively. He took a few steps, before flying directly at it, twisting in midair to bring his wing's edge square across the rubber's surface. For a moment, it began to sink in, and Apollo felt an elated sensation in his chest.
That was before his wing was forced out, sinking no further, sending him spinning in the opposite direction he had intended, before landing face-first into the soft, plump cloud.
The first feeling he felt was confusion. Wasn't he confident enough, when he Fortified? Didn't he hit it hard enough? Was his wing not sharp enough? Didn't it sharpen, upon being Fortified? He stumbled up, onto his hooves, looking at his wing with a bewildered expression. He looked up at the red-furred pony staring at him, who made a mark on his paper. But Apollo knew what he wrote.
He'd failed the test. His dreams of battling against creatures that threatened ponies everywhere, attaining everlasting glory, gone. He bit back a tear.
"Good try." Was all he heard, as he began to fly off the cloud, towards the village. Which somehow, made the defeat all more stingy. Flying overhead the various cloud housings, before settling inside a neighborhood of the huts, trotting inside. His mom looked up, from polishing her armor.
"...How was it--oh." She started, stopping abruptly upon seeing his expression. Her task forgotten, she moved over to hug him. "I'm sorry..."
Apollo simply hugged back, wordlessly, sniffling once.
Well, at least he wouldn't be forced to be productive to the Tribe, until he was a 'fully grown' pegasus.
But that didn't sooth the crack in his will.
~~~
For the next few days, Apollo would wonder what went wrong. He didn't want to accept that he wasn't going to be a Battler. His mother his mother offered soothing words, saying 'its alright, you'll do the Tribe proud, just you wait...' But it only made him He would practice Fortifying, attacking the thickest clouds he could, but he was slowly realizing with a dreadful pain...That his wings didn't sharpen. They only grew durable. He would try again, and again, to slice clouds, but all he ever did was bend them at an awkward angle.
This worried him. Was there something wrong with him? Is he missing something, something crucial to being a pegasus?
He grew too anxious, even to confide to his mother about the subject. And aside from her, he didn't really have anyone...Seeing as his father had gone missing, a decade prior, when he went on a rescue mission, to the frigid mountains.
So he was alone with this knowledge. Wondering, what about his wings, was so...Dull?
A full week after the test, Apollo had been slumped over on a cloud, lazily spying on the distant Earth Tribe, wondering if some pony there was living out his dream. He turned his gaze, beginning to look towards the castle in the distance. Not terribly big--but enough so to ward off most creatures--but 'too small to house another Tribe.'
Apollo clenched his jaw. He hated the unicorns. They could've created a land where they could live away from the creatures. But then again, that'd require them to live on the ground. Inconceivable. Not that the unicorns would comply, anyways.
A moving figure caught his eye. A lone pony? Outside a Tribe? Did he have a death-wish--no, there was another. A smaller, more ancient pony trotting alongside the young one. Apollo squinted his eyes. What were they doing? It looked as if they had descended from the mountains, on their merry way towards the Earth Village.
Apollo watched intently. Most of the predators around those parts were nocturnal--it wasn't fully crazy for them to be walking at this time. But that didn't excuse Manticore's, Chimera's, and the dreaded monster that ruled these parts--the Basilisk.
"..."
He wondered if he should go down, and ask if they were out of their minds. But that'd leave him vulnerable to aerial predators. But those normally didn't hunt, until dusk.
After a minute's pondering, he decided on kicking his cloud towards the ground, allowing his vessel to sink rapidly. The two figures raised their heads, as he approached, one even getting ready to draw his weapon...Which Apollo found interesting, to say the least.
"Hey...Where'd you two come from?" He asked, still making sure to keep at least ten feet from the ground. He'd heard stories of cannibalistic ponies--and wasn't eager to see if it were true.
The old one spoke first. "From the mountains."
Apollo blinked--so it wasnt his imagination. "Really? What were you doing up there?"
"None of your business--" The tall one was interrupted.
"Peace, Ferric..." The old one said, looking up at Apollo, "I was simply...Securing peace, for ponykind."
Apollo cocked his head, having floated slightly higher when 'Damian' retorted. "...And how d'you think you'll do that?"
"..." The old pony smiled, nodding, as the other pony, albeit hesitantly, raised three sheathed blades--each of which shined with a different hue. Apollo's gaze was drawn towards the brightest one...The one as radiant as the morning sun. And he realized with a jolt that they shined this much while they were sheathed.
"...They're..." Apollo shook his head. "Magnificent."
"Farrier, isn't it unwise to show the enemy our--" He was silenced by a harsh stare from the elder pony.
"Ferric. All ponies are to be treated as allies. We are to be accepting, if we are to secure survival for all, in this world."
Ferric narrowed his eyes, before giving a huff, looking back up at Apollo. "..."
Apollo blinked. "Wait, so you're one of those pacifistic ponies, that don't think the Tribes should be divided...?"
Farrier slowly put the blades away. "Young pegasus, all will be revealed in due time. But for now...Please...Spread the news, of a new age that is approaching."
Apollo cocked his head. "New age?"
Farrier smiled, turning to begin his trek once more, onward to the Earth Tribe. "The age...Of the Solution."
'...He's crazy,' Apollo thought to himself. but he nodded regardless, floating upwards, beginning to head back to the giant cloud where the Pegasi lived. "Understood, sir..."
"Before you go..." Farrier's words halted Apollo.
"Yes?"
"...What is your name, young one?"
"Apollo Swiftwing."
The olden pony smiled. "...Well-met."
Apollo nodded again, before turning to begin zooming back to the village. Farrier continued towards the Earth Ponies, with Ferric following close behind. The two began to talk, but Apollo couldn't hear them clearly anymore at this point...
Hiero woke with a start. He blinked once, before groaning, realizing that his time in the dreamworld was over, burying his face in the soft, feather-filled pillow, in some vain hope to retreat back to sleep. After a minute or two, he succumbed to defeat...And slumped out of the bed.
He yawned, using his levitation to bring a silver comb up to his mane, styling it in the traditional 'swept on either side of his horn' look. His golden-colored mane shined in response, and he smiled, at his reflection. Another day of being...Him.
Hiero was the son of one of the more impactful ponies in this Tribe. A lord, who was in charge of overseeing construction of additional rooms being built within--and outside--their Tribe. If you could even a well-defended castle the home of a Tribe, really. They were more of a Kingdom. A civilization. Far above those other two species, in terms of resources, and prowess against the predators, they were the highest of the three.
Or so they liked to tell themselves.
To be honest, they suffered from slight overpopulation, within the castle's walls. Not enough food to go around, and the many, many positions the castle needed to be filled to properly defend themselves, commonly prevented them from making any real progress on their magic, and production. They only had one scribe--a prodigy by the name of Starswirl--but seeing as he was the only one working on new spells, the progression was slow. They'd be lucky to have a spell that'd make some mundane task easier, created every other month. Which maybe meant that they should learn how to do things the hard way, without magic, but then again...If that were true, then why were they gifted with horns?
Hiero opened the door, looking down the corridor that greeted him beyond his room. A dusty, dull grey floor and walls surround the hallway, with doors speckled along either side. Likely leading to some other high-ranking pony's room, no doubt. But Hiero paid the doors no mind, as he trotted past them, into the door on the far end of the hall, opening it to reveal a larger room. His room was just outside the center of the castle--which was a large lobby of sorts. Unicorns dotted the grand room, some in groups, some practicing magic in solitude, and some merely eating their breakfast...Looking strangely protective of their food. All of them looked grim. Hiero cocked his head, wondering if he had overslept, and missed some grave news.
Hiero ventured near one of the larger groups, picking bits and pieces from the conversation, before realizing with a jolt: someone had left the front gates open, when his shift ended, and before the next resumed the post, a small pack of imps had flocked in, destroying their crops, devouring the saplings. It took a full hour to catch them all, and put them down, but within that time...
Hiero swallowed.
They weren't going to survive winter, at this rate.
He ran off, in search of his father. They would still be able to power through, right? Didn't they have a safe-fail storage of food, in case this exact situation happened? Didn't they have a plan to fall back on? At the very least, a storage of seeds ready to be planted, at the moment, with a spell to accelerate growth?
He found his father, talking to the Head Mage. The most magically adapt pony in their Tribe, and unofficial leader--surely he had a way to fix this!
"Father, I--" Hiero was silenced by a levitation spell on on his mouth, that forced his lips to be sealed together.
"Not now, Hiero." His father replied sternly, looking back to the Head Mage.
"...As I was saying, our Magi Force cannot grow food, in the way those Earth Ponies can. We must do it naturally--or risk making the crops wilt the moment we exert our magic. It's too big of a risk--we wouldn't have any food for winter--nor would we have any seeds to plant the following spring."
Hiero watched as his father fumbled for a counterargument. But the Mage's reasoning was irrefutable--age spells were tricky, a type of magic largely unpracticed, and attempting to use it to grow their crops might result in them having nothing all year.
"...What choices do we have?" Hiero heard his father ask.
"...We must plead for help. Gather a patrol. We leave for the Earth Tribe at once."
Hiero would've shouted his disapproval, had his mouth not still been covered. He watched his father nod in agreement.
"Understood. Shall we gather trading supplies, to offer them, as well?"
"Yes. Bring them...Clothes. I have a feeling they're short on that--and with winter coming, they'll be more inclined to accept."
His father nodded once more, before turning, beginning to bark out various names of their travel ponies. Hiero felt the magic on his mouth lessen, and immediatly made his opinion known.
"We can't let ourselves be shown as weak and needy!!" He exclaimed, not even backing off in the slightest, when his father turned his forbidding gaze towards him.
"...Would you rather us be shown as dead, and forgotten?" He asked quietly, which inspired Hiero to deflate slightly.
"N-no...But...We don't need their help--"
"We do." Came the stern reply, his father's gaze piercing into his own, "we can't afford to take such foolish chances, on things such as pride, Hiero. I taught you better then that."
"I--..." Hiero broke off, narrowing his eyes, before bowing his head down. "...Understood..."
Satisfied, his father turned, to address the ponies he had called for. Hiero slinked away, muttering under his breath. Why couldn't they find any other solution, at all? He'd rather eat dirt, then have to beg for food! He had just woken up, this was too much to process at once...
"...Actually, Hiero..."
"Yes?"
"...You're going to be coming with us, to the Earth Tribe."
"What?!"
His father made a small smile. "You'll see...That ponies are not to despise eachother--we are all still allies, in this dark, dark world. Even if we choose to ignore that fact."
Hiero tried to stutter a reason why he couldn't go--but turned up with nothing.
"We leave at noon..." His father informed him, turning to leave, and prepare for the trip.
~~~
Hiero seethed to himself, as he plodded alongside the cart, stacked with supplies such as silk...Wishes he hadn't opened his mouth in defiance. Seeing the vague village in the distance, he could only grit his teeth. Maybe he could just stick near the cart the entire time, say nothing, and end up not having to talk to any of the earth ponies...
They approached the gates, where a drowsy--but watchful--guard blinked up at them.
"...Trading week isn't until Summer."
"It doesn't have to be, does it?" Came the patient reply of his father, "we find ourselves in need...Please let us pass."
Somewhat bewildered at the submissive behavior, the guard wasted no time in raising the wooden gate...Allowing the unicorns passage.
To some, the village would've been well-made, with wooden houses, organized, and rather well-protected by the five-meter-tall wooden gate, surrounding the entire village. But Hiero could only smirk to himself, knowing how their wooden walls didn't match up to their stone castle...
'Yet they weren't the ones who had a breach problem recently.' A rogue thought streaked across his mind. He shook his head, and continued walking forward, beginning to drift away from the cart, due to not exactly watching where he was going, before...
He bumped into a pony. He looked the same size as Hiero--but obviously more...Physically fit. He could see the muscle definition. A stick in the vague shape of a sword rested on the pony's back.
"S-sorry." Hiero muttered, refusing to make eye contact.
"Ah, don't be. It happens." The earth pony shrugged, sitting down. "A unicorn, huh? I haven't seen one of you up close..."
Hiero suppressed a superior smirk. "Well, I'm sure its not everyday you meet a being such as a--"
"You look just like an earth pony that just has a horn. Nothin' special..."
"..." Hiero sighed, "I'll just pretend I didn't hear that. My name is Hiero. Can I have yours? Because it feels like now that I've started talking with you, my father wont allow me to stop..."
The earth pony blinked, shrugged once more, and replied.
Abel held out his hoof. Hiero hesitated, before putting out his own, connecting for a bump. "Yeah...We're here, because, well..." Hiero swallowed his pride, remembering his father's words. They couldn't afford to act high and mighty, while they were in need. "We need help. Our crops got torn apart by some imps last night, and--"
"Oh no." Abel's concerned expression conveyed that he knew the rest of the problem, without Hiero explaining. "Winters just around the corner, you wouldn't--"
"--Survive the following year." Hiero cut him off irritably, "yeah, we know. That's why we're here."
Abel cocked his head. "Weird. Aren't you guys magic-users? Can't you just magic your crops back, or...?"
"No, it...It just doesn't work that way." Hiero explained halfheartedly. He didn't want to say it outright--that the unicorns knew so little about their own craft, that taking a gamble on it could prove life-threatening.
Abel had started to look almost relieved at this point. "So you're still wary of other creatures, and setbacks can be dangerous for your Tribe?"
"Kingdom," Hiero corrected him.
"No, the three pony species are actually referred to as Trib--"
"The unicorns have a kingdom."
Abel narrowed his eyes. Hiero stared back, while the cart passed them by. Hiero saw, form the corner of his eye, his father giving an approving nod at his mingling. Breaking eye-contact with the earth pony, Hiero started to look around, noticing that many of the ponies walking around seemed in uplifted spirits. Talking excitedly amongst themselves, whispering about some piece of euphoric news.
Abel noticed Hiero watching, and decided to answer his question for him.
"Farrier returned."
"Who?"
"You don't know who Farrier is? The blacksmith who basically crafts weapons and armor, for all three Tribes to use?"
Hiero blinked. He knew the unicorns got their gear from the Earth Ponies--he just didn't know it all came from one pony in particular. And he certainly didn't know that this Farrier character provided for all the ponies. "...Oh. What do you mean 'returned'? Did he leave?"
"For three years."
Hiero gagged. Three years? Outside a Tribe? "And he's still alive?!"
Abel grinned, with a nod. "Looks like his kid had enough skill to keep him safe through the tough times."
"His kid?!"
Abel laughed. "An Earth Pony, like the rest of us here in the Earth Tribe."
Hiero blinked. Two Earth ponies, living in the wilderness, for a full three years? Unheard of. The only previous pony that made an expedition outside their walls was Starswirl--and he only stayed out for barely a week. Their most talented member was outdone by this much?
"That's not all." Abel added, which brought Hiero's curiosity full circle.
"What d'you mean?"
"There's a rumor going around that Farrier found what he wanted: a new, magic-infused ore."
"...That's..." Hiero frowned. "Impossible. Only living things can produce magic, or energy. "
"Tell that to the ore Farrier found." Abel muttered, bending down to peculiar rock. Staring at it, before pocketing it. "My dad says he's made three weapons out of it."
"And...That's why everyone's so happy?" Hiero asked, looking back to the cart, which had attracted a few ponies, who were trading with his father. "Because of a few swords?"
"...Farrier claims those swords will be the key, to a golden age where we don't have to be afraid of the creatures outside our walls."
"Impossible."
Abel shrugged. "You're not the only one to think so. A lot of ponies think that his dream is a fool's goal, but hey...A little hope never hurt, eh?"
Hiero bit his lip. "Then again...This is the same guy that lived outside walls, for three years..." He muttered, looking down at his hooves.
Abel shrugged. "Hey, it's not like his dream is 'finished' yet."
"What d'you mean?" Hiero asked, looking up, feeling more left in the dark with each passing second.
"He's still looking for the ponies to actually use the swords he made. He's saying one pony from each Tribe, will use them to protect their Tribe accordingly."
"And...How would he decide, on the three?"
"He's not. Ferric is. At least, Ferric would be the one picking out possible candidates."
Hiero frowned. Why did he get this bad vibe, from this Ferric character? "I see...And, if he doesn't find anybody suitable?"
Abel shrugged. "You'd have to ask him yourself."
"...Well...I don't think I'd be allowed to. I have to stick close to the cart." Hiero looked at the cart, still a few meters away, trading occurring near it. It looks like they were getting a large sum of food...If they pulled this off a few more times, they might actually make it through winter with minimal casualties.
Abel looked up, at the sky. "...I might need to start getting ready, for my training. It's almost noon."
Abel scowled, and didn't reply. Hiero felt like he had just said something offensive.
"...What...What do you train for?" He asked, hoping to shift focus from what he just said.
"What do you think? Not dying next time a wendigo decides on ponies for dinner, by sticking a sword in it's eye."
Hiero mentally kicked himself, for such an obvious question, and frowned. He didn't know that the earth ponies were so...Prepared, to do what it took to survive. As far as he knew, the unicorns all repulsed predators away, using their magic in synchronization.
Abel checked his satchel. "Anything else, before I go?"
"Um..." Hiero frowned, trying to think of something. "No, I don't think so...Unless you can tell me how long it'll be, before Ferric finds some people to use the swords."
"Personally? I think it'll be a few months. But again, you'd have to ask him yourself." He gave Hiero a curt nod, beginning to walk towards the gates of the village. "Until next time, Hiero."
Hiero waved him goodbye. And he couldn't help but feel obliged to leave the cart, in search of this Ferric character. After all, he was still feeling rather curious, about this entire business, wondering exactly what magic the swords held, how powerful they were, and if this would cause scuffle between the Tribes, over greed.
He decided that he'll just do as he was told, and stick by the cart, slumping away from where he was sitting, to join his father. Who was in high spirits, considering the amount of food they were securing. No doubt that they'd be back, for another bout of trade.
After a number of hours, seeing as the sun was beginning to set, Hiero's father called out, to round up the others. "Alright! Pack up, secure any loose food, make the last trades, and get ready to depart!"
Hiero merely sat beside the cart, as the other unicorns began to ready themselves to leave. Some looked queasy--he didn't blame them. After all, some monsters were known to attack in the light of day. And a few have been getting bolder, around these parts. They'd have to be careful, on the way back to the castle. An Alpha Manticore had settled near the Earth Village, and despite the Tribe's best efforts to dispatch it, it's still kicking. Rather hard, he might think, considering some ponies have dropped dead from a single swipe from that...Thing.
Hiero cursed their luck. Alphas were a variant, of only the most dominant predators, in the land. A type of the species in question, that're simply born stronger, and more fierce then their normal counterparts. An Alpha Timberwolf, for instance, would appear as more bulky then the rest. Along with being differently colored--perhaps solid redwood. Regardless, the change was evident. A normal Timberwolf could not even begin to hope to quell an Alpha. And of course, the one time an Alpha crops up in the land near them, it had to be a Manticore.
Before, they were certain it wouldn't attack, due to the supplies they were carrying. Which amounted to pleasantries, such as pillows, covers, and the like, expertly made. They knew the Earth Ponies typically didn't have supplies as exquisite, or effective, as this, but had plenty of food to spare. So, naturally, a trade was in order. But...Now that they were loaded with food--both grown and butchered--it just might attract unwanted attention.
Namely, the Alpha.
After counting all their ponies, they set off, from the village, towards the path that'd lead to the castle. Along the way, from the corner of Hiero's eyes, he noticed Abel, training with a larger earth pony. Training, no doubt.
He frowned. That looked like it hurt.
They passed by the outer territory of the Village, with no problem. But along the way, they noticed a pony, traveling alone, on the road. Hiero looked at the other unicorns, who looked just as surprised, at the fact that a pony was traveling alone. With nothing but a sword, no less.
They passed by him, where the driver of the cart leaned over, to offer him a lift, to wherever he was going.
The pony--Hiero noticed he was of the earth pony variant--stared at the cart for a moment, before shrugging. He spoke in a gruff, scarred voice.
"Sure." He muttered, climbing onto the cart. "Your help is...Appreciated."
Hiero stared, from his side in the cart. This new guy seemed to radiate a kind of battle-born vibe. And considering the scars that decorated his pelt, he was indeed no stranger to life-or-death situations. A simple garb coated most of his neck, where a single shoulder plate rested as his one piece of defense. Then again, Hiero thought to himself, all that scar tissue has got to be pretty tough to scratch past...
One of them asked his name. His reply rather rattle Hiero.
"Ferric."
"You mean the son of Farrier, who's looking for suitable users of--" Hiero cut himself off.
Ferric's gaze was locked on him. Before he actually made a small smile. "...That's right."
Hiero mentally sighed in relief. He hadn't made a fool of himself. Not yet, at least. "What're you doing, on the pathways...?" He asked, after a moment.
"I'm on my way...To the Unicorn Tribe."
"Kingdom."
"Tribe."
Hiero decided against refuting. "Don't you need to find a swordspony in the Earth Village, first, before going to the others?"
Ferric shook his head. "Farrier told me, that despite our place of birth...I should look, in the unicorns, first."
Hiero blinked, but went with it. After all, someone like Farrier should know what he's doing--he'd be insane to question him. "I see...And you were, just, walking there?"
Ferric nodded. Hiero wondered just what he'd been through, to grow that confident. He kept silent, as the pony continued.
"Yes." He said, closing his eyes with a vague annoyed expression. "I have a mission. And I intend to make progress on it." He said simply.
Hiero blinked, before a thought struck him. Did he know about the Alpha Manticore in the area...?
Ferric had his eyes closed, staring down, at a slight angle. His blade, laid across his shoulder, suggested ease. Hiero decided to warn him. After all...Ponies help eachother avoid threats, right?
"There's an Alpha Manticore, going around, right now. It might be attracted to this cart, because we have food. I'm just letting you know, in case we get attacked."
Ferric slowly raised his head, to stare into his eyes. Two pale blue irises stared into his own, and it felt as if no soul were behind them. He merely raised the sword, an inch, out of it's sheath in response. It was a silent sign of acknowledgment. Hiero felt safer.
~~~
Meanwhile, a massive beast would be on the hunt. Turning it's gargantuan head, slowly, side to side, as it tasted the air for prey. It had been too long, since it fed. Stalking, through the thick forest, that it had claimed as it's own land, it tensed. A flicker of movement, from the corner of it's eye, caught it's interest. It crouched, watching the deer wander through the forest, stalking ever so closer. It's wings, folded against it's back, it's tail, held low, as to not attract attention...But alas...The deer's head just so happened to turn, and lock eyes with the manticore.
They stared at eachother, for a long moment. The manticore took a step. The deer tensed, and began to sprint away gracefully. With the roar of one who's meal had just been jeopardized, the giant Alpha would begin to tear after it, bowling through the undergrowth, and uprooting various small trees, as it charged past. The deer turned up ground, as it tried with every fiber of it's being, to get away from it's death hurtling towards it.
Finally managing to leap between two closely-grown trees, in which the manticore was stuck in, for just a moment, when it tried to follow. But it wasn't held long. Within seconds, it's claws and tail had reduced it's wooden cage into splinters. It resumed charging after the deer, but that second the trees bought it was enough.
The manticore burst out from the forest's edge, snarling, turning this way and that, looking for the deer with it's one working eye...And finding nothing.
It felt an overpowering urge to roar.
But that had to wait. It would turn that pent up roar of frustration, into a roar of sheer triumph...Once it caught it's prey. And as it's eye locked on a moving caravan, in the distance...
...It decided that it's next meal would be ponies. And unlike the deer...It wouldn't get away.
Ferric stiffened. Hiero barely had a moment to question why Ferric was unsheathing the broadsword slung his shoulder, or why there were screams of alarm from the front, before the caravan was bowled over by a wall of flesh. It rolled once, twice, before settling on it's side on the ground. From one side of the caravan, an 'X' appeared, as ponies began climbing out. Ferric being the first, who jumped down to the ground, his unnaturally dark silver blade held at the ready.
He narrowed his eyes at the Alpha Manticore who was currently tearing apart one of the ponies that had been pulling the caravan along, a glazed look in his eyes.
'Too late to save him...'
Ferric turned his gaze to the others. "Get behind the caravan. Don't help. Don't make a sound." He said with a startlingly confident, and serious voice, stalking towards the manticore, putting the sword's hilt in his jaw...
Hiero gulped, and scurried to do as he was told. Because even as terrifying as the manticore was, the pony getting ready to fight it so casually, seemed to radiate a vibe that shook Hiero to the core.
As if that pony had dealt with things, things that were beyond Hiero's nightmares, and still emerged victorious. He heard the roar of the manticore, as it noticed the challenger approaching, and heard the lunging of the great creature.
He peeked his head over the caravan, to watch, despite what Ferric told him to do.
He gasped, at the sight. Already, in the manticore's overconfidence against Ferric, he had already somehow sliced the tail of the beast off. It wriggled disturbingly, on the ground, frantically searching for it's stump. The manticore had reeled backed, baring it's teeth, showing off it's claws, and stretching it's wings--all four of them--as wide as they could go. It was a truly terrifying sight, one Hiero was sure even a dragon would cower away from. Apparently, Ferric was either blind, or truly nerveless, as he kept approaching without being slowed in the slightest from the display of rage. Only readying his blade once more, in response.
The manticore steadied itself, locking it's one eye on Ferric, who was startlingly close by now. It noticed the clench in his jaw, readying himself for an attack. It decided to take to the skies, flapping it's four wings once, to rise high into the air. It flexed it's claws, beginning to fly in circles, around the pony, before swooping behind the pony, and diving, to rip into his back...
What it didn't notice was Ferric bracing one hoof, and spinning with unnatural speed, his blade slicing into the manticore's paw. By time it had flinched away, it's paw was dangling by a tendon, hanging in the air. It was backing off, trying to make some sort of distance, obviously pulling away from the unexpected damage. It began to spread it's wings, clearly getting ready to take off, to flee, from this superior predator.
But...Ferric tensed, before tearing up grass and ground, streaking towards the manticore's side. Flipping the blade's hilt in his mouth, he dragged it across the Alpha's side...Tearing off both wings on it's right, as a result. He immediately bounced back, dodging the snap of the jaws that came within inches of his muzzle...But the damage was done. The manticore roared, for no reason other then fear, and pain. It's wings on the left side of it's frame flapping fruitlessly, their former partners laying limply on the ground. Rapidly backing off, slightly unbalanced from the shift of weight, and it's paw in no condition to assist with movement, it roared again--only this time, it came out as if it had stage fright.
Hiero's gaze of wonder had steadily turned into that of shock. He could understand why Ferric wasn't allowing it to back off, or admit defeat...But...Did he have to do it so savagely? He reminded himself that if the situations were tied, the manticore wouldn't have hesitated either. The pony torn in half on the ground proved that. But even still, he couldn't help but wonder...Was Ferric's frame of mind that much different from those the ponies feared?
Ferric, having been stalking towards the manticore, sword once again at the ready in his mouth, was silently looking for an opening...He aimed to finish it off, with his next move. The manticore looked down, at the ground. It was losing blood. And fast. Even now, black began to tinge the edges of it's vision...Rushing that pony would be a mistake. Yet rushing was all it knew. If it turned it's back to this pony to flee, it was as good as dead...So what to do? It couldn't keep backing away forever...
Ferric kept approaching, not giving it any ground. The look in his eyes betrayed nothing but murderous intent, his posture conveying a readiness to attack the moment it showed weakness or arrogance.
It was at this moment, Hiero was certain, staring into the beast's one eye, that it knew it was going to die. He saw the hope drain from it's eye, lowering the wings it still possessed, it's constant retreat reducing to a meek inching away. It was depressing, to see such a beast give up. Hiero couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy, even if this very same manticore had claimed many lives of ponies. The fear, of watching it's own death approach, and knowing that it can do absolutely nothing to stop it, must be worse then whats to come.
Hiero ducked back under the overturned caravan, and closed his eyes. Even through covering his ears, the roar that was abruptly cut off, ending with a gargled whimper, still made him shiver.
It was a minute, before Ferric came round the overturned vehicle, looking over the ponies huddled behind it.
"...Is everyone okay?" He asked, sheathing the broadsword across his back.
Hiero mentally answered no to Ferric's question. After all, the pony the manticore maimed first was the opposite of okay. And he himself felt scarred, from the event he just witnessed. That clash of predator versus predator, and the second when it realized it was now prey...He once again shivered, thinking that it could easily be him one day. Except, from his lack of skill along the likes of Ferric, and lack of sheer instinct and natural strength like the manticore, he was twice as likely to be put in that situation one day.
"...We're all fine, just bruises and scraps." One of the older unicorns replied, standing up. The others began to follow suit, now that the threat had been dealt with. Well...Lesser threat. Now that Ferric had asserted himself as more dangerous then the apex predator of the area, there was an unspoken dominance factor radiating from him. No-one, at least, no-one who was currently in his presence, would feel safe trying to do anything beyond being submissive. Then again, of course, Ferric was a mere pony, like the rest of them. Even if they were somewhat fearful of him, he wouldn't retaliate too violently...Right?
Either way, Hiero was glad Ferric was on their side. He muttered a few words of confirmation in response to Ferric, standing up, alongside the others, as they started to levitate the caravan upright. It took them quite some time to Synchronize...But they had time to spare, anyways. Hiero even got a chance to help, although it was briefly. Trying to align his magical wavelength to theirs was tricky...It was always wavering. Always changing, never consistent. In the few spare seconds everyone was aligned, lifting the cart upright was far easier then what could've been called cumbersome. They made sure to gather the deceased pony's remains, wrapping up the two pieces in a drape leftover from tradings, earlier that day...
Hiero fought back the urge to gag, riding with a dead pony. It felt so...Real. Disturbingly so. Knowing that if he had just been a few years older, and had he been pulling the cart, that could've been him wrapped up, to be burned at midnight.
Ferric was resting near the back, as if nothing had happened. Hiero focused on keeping his food down, for the rest of the trip. They rode in silence. Although whether or not the silence was inspired by the casualty, or the fact that a pony like Ferric was riding with them, Hiero wasn't sure.
