Soulitude- second season

Chapters

Chapter 2: Smugglers, Skall and Supply Ships
Chapter 3: Pilgrimage
Chapter 4: Trials, Tests and Thieves
Chapter 5: Brawls, Fights and Survival
Chapter 6: Chases, Hunts and Infiltration
Chapter 7: King Sombra
Chapter 1: Establishing The Mine/Rebellion At The Fort

Chapter 2: Smugglers, Skall and Supply Ships

I’ve been at the fort for three days now. Things have calmed down since I fixed the cider supply for the guards. I have not heard from the mine yet. I wonder how deep down the facility could be and how quickly work is progressing there. The wolves have only been coming closer and I am also seeing other things mixed in with them. I cannot stay cooped up in here forever, but I cannot join any of the patrols or watches. All I can do is practise my swordplay. I’m itching for a new mission.

CHAPTER 2 PART 1: SMUGGLERS

The guards were content, but a latent nervousness kept them on edge at all times. It was like they could almost forget their troubles but something at the back of their minds kept them from relaxing at the very last moment. Lars Leland tried to go for a walk but a guard instantly stopped him, nearly jabbing his spear up the human’s jaw.

“N-no one leaves their post!” the young stallion said.

“I’m the human. I don’t have any posts.”

The guard blushed brightly red and looked away. He flustered with his spear. “R-right. But don’t go any further than I can see you.”

“I don’t think I would want to.”

A dark cloud loomed over the forest. Far to the right he could spot the light from the Crystal City, casting the sky for miles around it in a brilliant hue. Behind him were the clear skies of Equestria. In front of him however were the woods, imposing with thinly spread trees and naked trunks until well up in the heights. A choking blackness rolled down from the far mountains with an almost intelligent belligerence.

Under its veil were the animals and the monsters. Just from the hill leading down to the docks he could see them, lurking at the very edge. They dared not venture out of the forest, but they were watching. Lars could recognise several shapes like wolves and bears seemingly congealed from the snow and gloom itself, but there were plenty other shapes he didn’t even want to consider.

But unlike the guards at the fort, Lars had had his share of misery and knew how to deal with it. There were demons that he had already come to terms with, so he could happily say that there were no other places he’d rather be. His world was already gone and he no longer had a wife waiting for him. His daughter had become a pony and he had long ago said his goodbyes. Whatever the forest had to offer it would not be able to measure against what he had already endured. The thought of his daughter he also kept in his heart, offering him gladness even through the sadness.

Lars turned back into the fort. The air was crisp and clear but also contained a foul malice. Inside the fort he could forget it with the bustle and smells of hay and food and sweat. There had to be a job for a man like him to do. Making him stay in one spot for too long only made him restless. Especially when there was a sense of something needing done. He went inside the general quarters on the left and went up to Captain Crush’s office.

The good captain was pacing his floor anxiously. He looked up when he saw Lars strolling inside. “Just the man I’ve been looking for.”

“That means you have something for me to do?” he asked with a slight trace of eagerness.

“Yes, I cannot decide who should go and these two have been squabbling over it. I think it’d be best if you decided and accompanied one of them.” The captain tossed his head to two earth pony guards next to his desk. One had the seasoned air of a veteran over him with dents proudly showing in his armour. The other was a mare with a slimmer build and better kept armour.

“Accompany where?” Lars asked and watched as the two guards intently discussed who would be the better choice. The captain snorted a small giggle.

“Where do I keep my mind?” he asked and rolled his eyes, the months of stress weighing on his smile and posture. He sat down behind his desk again and enjoyed its comfort for a few moments before leaning over. “Weapons have been disappearing from the armoury. I fear somepony has been using the confusion around this place to make away with them.”

The male guard stepped up. He was a charming fellow despite his brusque appearance but also looked unhappy with staying in one place too long, always moving or talking. “I say we investigate this case carefully. We don’t know who the culprits are but I have several ideas of where they could be located.”

The female scoffed. Though kindhearted in her mannerisms, she was direct in her speech. “We’ve been dawdling enough,” she interjected and cut in front of the male. “We should charge out there immediately and punish whoever is behind this.”

“Enough out of you both,” Lars bellowed, and the two guards immediately quieted down. They looked at their captain, but he nodded, so they begrudgingly allowed the human his authority.

“I fear above all what somepony would use all the swords and shields and other equipment for,” the captain added and sighed deeply. “I hope it’s just bandits and not something more sinister. Nevertheless, I implore you to accept this mission. And please pick whoever you want to bring along, I can’t decide between them.”

The male guard grinned warmly and blew himself up to his full size. The female guard, on the other hand, smile a womanly smile.

“You both look qualified for this assignment. Therefore the loser will be a reflection on my part, and not yours. I simply have to go with who will benefit me most.” The two guards continued to look at him but with less fervour. Lars nodded his head at the male guard. “You have the right attitude, but I fear you will be too cautious. I can tell you have been outside the fort many times and seen all there is to it.” He then turned towards the female. “You on the other hand don’t know what will await you other, but not by choice. You have been overlooked many times for important expeditions. Wrongly I would estimate. What is your name?”

“S-Sugar Heart, sir!” she replied and saluted with a hoof on her forehead. “You will not regret it.”

“I know I won’t.” He repaid her smile, while the male guard shuffling out of the room.

“You should ask the armourer. Seems he overheard something,” he said before leaving.

“Then we should go there first,” Sugar Heart said. She was eager and excited, tripping on the spot waiting to get going. “Do you know where it is?”

“Yeah, I more or less know my way around the fort by now. Come along.”

Sugar Heart followed him, positively beaming. She was also one of the only female guards Lars had ever seen, and certainly the only one in the fort. He had spent some time noting all the ponies that went about and also its layout. There had been nothing else to do for the last couple of days but to memorise the layout and getting acquainted with the ponies working there.

The armorer, an earth pony by the name of Brawny Steed, was the stallion in black armour sitting behind the desk. Lars had already met on his first day on the fort looking for an answer to the cider shortage. Brawny Steed looked up at Sugar Heart and groaned.

“I can’t give you a Lochaber axe,” he said with a tired look at her. “I simply don’t know where to find one and I doubt you would be able to wield it.”

“No, no, no!” She giggled and waved her hoof. “I still think you’re wrong, but we’re here about the missing weapons.”

“Ah. That.” He took a swig from his bottle of cider and smacked his lips dully. “I’m not one for idle gossip, you know, so make of it what you will. Some of the guards have talked about a stash of weapons in a cave out in the forest. Gandrung Cave they call it. I would certainly appreciate it if you locate my missing weapons. Some of the guards are walking around unarmed because I can’t supply them with replacements. Even the best steel eventually breaks, especially in this cursed weather.” He rubbed his arms unconsciously. “I fear it’s getting to them. I hear many of them are reporting ill because they’re afraid to go outside the fort.”

“Don’t worry!” Sugar Heart said with a determined smile and saluted. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. We’ll go to that cave and show them who’s boss.”

Brawny Steed rolled his eyes. “Don’t get yourselves killed at least. And sorry for not being able to give you supplies. I hope you understand the situation.”

“Of course,” Lars said with a nod of his head. “I’d really rather not go outside the fort any more than I have to, but for this I’ll gladly make the exception.” He fingered the hilt of the sword strapped around his waist. Electrical sparks coiled down its silvery surface. It was given to him as a gift by the captain when his gun had been acting up. It would serve him well on his mission.

The cave was only a short walk northeast from the fort. They met no resistance along the way but they still kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. They almost missed the entrance as it was hidden inside a large heap of rocks. The door was a large slab of stone ornately carved with swirls and animals. As Lars noted to himself, the entrance functioned like the ones he had encountered in the various facilities from his own world. A good push inside and then it could be forced to the side.

The tunnel looked at first like an old burial chamber. Rats scurried off, wary of the disturbance, squeaking in dismay. Sugar Heart looked a little pale in the torchlight but said nothing. Catching attention of something, Lars hurried down to the end of the tunnel. A large square room held four dead ponies encased in crystal. He stroked the surfaces as if it reminded him of something.

“Is everything all right?” Sugar Heart asked in a small voice as she entered the room after him.

“This almost looks like… but it couldn’t be,” he mumbled. And yet it was. The ponies had been laid to rest on top of a large piece of stone and then encapsulated in ice. At least he thought it was ice. It was cold to his touch, in fact it lowered the overall temperature of the room, but it didn’t behave like frozen water. One would almost expect it to melt just a little from the touch of his fingers. Yet nothing.

“I saw another tunnel close to the entrance. I think it leads further into the cave, sir.”

“Good work, soldier.” Lars wrested himself free from the cool cocoon. It felt like such a short time ago that he himself was resting in a similar one. The memory swam in his eyes and the goal of his mission stood all the clearer in his mind.

The side tunnel bended further into the ground. Coming into view was an earth pony. Though in royal armour, he was not a guard. He drew a sword similar to Lars’ but without electricity illuminating it. He was a tough opponent but Lars had trained with swords intermittently over the years. He dared not even bring out his gun. Its unreliability was all it that would take to get him killed.

“I don’t know who you are, but you stepped into the wrong cave.” The fight was short. First Lars parried the sword out of the pony’s mouth, then he slashed through the armour. The walls and floor sprayed with red. Sugar Heart gasped, but Lars pressed on.

They walked yet another while. The tunnel did not slope any longer but was as narrow and cramped as ever. It looked to have been hastily dug into the ground as a later addition to the original burial chamber. A wooden platform had been added down another dead end with hammocks and various furniture.

They backtracked and continued further into the complex. The light was dim, making it impossible to see further than immediately around them. When the rhythmic pounding of hooves echoed through the walls, they were unable to ascertain the direction it was coming from. It was only clear that someone was galloping towards them at full march.

“Look out!” Sugar Heart pushed Lars out of the way and immediately blocked something with her sword. The shape moved into the light and revealed a zebra also wearing the golden armour, but unaffected by its altering magic. Rings glimmered from his ears as he fought with her. Both swords locked with ferocious power. She was easily able to hold her own against a strong male. She pushed him back and struck. The zebra slumped to the ground in the darkness.

“Good work,” Lars commented. Sugar Heart tried to smile, but only made a nervous gesture.

The tunnel opened up into a large chamber. Two pegasus warriors milled around inside, bored and shooting craps. They couldn’t see the two approaching them, nor had they heard the commotion. Lars snuck up on them by slithering along the cave wall. Once they finally became aware of the intruders, it was already too late. He and Sugar Heart dispatched them almost before they could unsheathe their swords. They two were also dressed in stolen armour. It was surreal to see what looked like royal guards sprawled lifelessly on the floor.

The way ahead curved abruptly. At the end was another wooden platform with furniture and several baskets, vases, barrels and chests around the floor. An earth pony in gilded amour walked down the stairs to the cave floor. He was frowning, and overall did not look happy with the disturbance.

“You’re good to have made it this far, but this will be the end for you. I found this little beauty on one of my raids. It’s excellent for dealing with minor nuisances.

In his hooves he clutched a staff made of silver. Green light waved down the length of it, casting a beautiful hue on the surfaces. But it was not for show. The smuggler pointed it at Sugar Heart and fired. The green beam hit her only in her hind leg, but still prompted a painful scream. She tried walking, but found her legs dragging uselessly behind her.

“What did you do to her?” Lars roared, but the smuggler simply smirked malevolently.

“I paralysed her. As I will do to you as well. Then killing you will be an easy feat.” The smuggler then turned the staff on Lars and fired. The beam hit his abdomen, but could not affect him through the clothes. Undaunted, Lars continued forward with long strides and the sword in his hands.

The smuggler tried firing again, but Lars weaved out of the way. His silver sparksword crashed into the staff. Angry hisses sprang from the violent impact. The two types of magic struggled to come out ahead. The sword glided down the smooth surface of the staff, guiding the sword toward the pony’s soft chest. The smuggler retaliated, butting Lars away, leaving him vulnerable to another shot of magic. The second one hit with much more force. His vision blurred for a moment as pain seared through his body. But there was no follow-up.

Lars shook his head to clear the cobwebs. Sugar Heart panted heavily before him. The smuggler lay on the floor with blood pooling beneath him. “I… I killed him, sir,” she said in a small voice.

“Not your first,” he commented and prodded the smuggler with his boot.

“No, sir. I already know it gets easier with time, but I prefer to be a little queasy about it. That way I can know I’m still a pony and not a monster.”

“Good for you,” he praised, and she smiled heartily up at him, positively beaming when he gently stroked her cheek. “Let’s hope that it’s all here.”

Only the chests contained the missing weapons and armour. The rest of the containers were filled with food, clothes and other provisions. Sugar Heart took one chest on her back while Lars took one between his hands. There were still many left, and when they returned to the fort, they reported the place and the cave was cleaned up.

CHAPTER 2 PART 2: THE DISAPPEARANCE OF CAPTAIN CRUSH

Not long after, Lars was sent back to Raven Rock to deal with an unspecified problem. A few houses had been erected in the last three days along with the beginning of a small stone fence. The workers, however, milled around idly, chatting among themselves or working on the buildings. No one was down in the mines.

“You cannot believe how relieved I am to see you,” Melon said as he greeted Lars on the shore.

“I heard there was some sort of crisis. Why isn’t anyone working? They can’t be protesting?”

Melon eagerly pushed behind Lars with his head, nudging him up the snow covered grass towards the houses. “That I would know how to deal with. No, this is much worse. Look at that!”

The mine was covered by a large square building of timber. In front of its protective walls stood an old stallion blocking the door. His brightly orange face was painted with blue markings, and his waning red mane was drawn back. He wore thick furs draped around his body.

“Who’s that?” Lars asked. The old pony looked up at him with a smile that he seemed to give everything else, lending him a slightly confused appearance.

“He claims his name is Hroldar the Strange, but other than that I don’t know. He just showed up a while ago and forced all the workers away. They tried getting him to move, some even resorting to fisticuffs, but there’s something off about him. He just doesn’t appear to be a normal pony.”

“Well, maybe I can persuade him to leave.” Lars unstrapped the sword from his waist and left it with Melon. He would not need it for a non-hostile talk between two intelligent adult beings.

“Hoy!” the stallion called out as Lars got nearer. “No one is going back down there. This is sacred territory for the Skaal.”

“I don’t know about that, neighbour. I’ve never heard about the Skaal before. Maybe they should have made us aware of that before we started digging.”

Hroldar shook his head. “There should have been no need. From where does your party hail?”

“Equestria,” Lars replied curtly. He stood with hands on his hips and enjoyed the fresh breeze, trying to minimise the old stallion’s nuisance.

“Equestria, you say? Hmm. These are definitely strange times.” He scratched his impressive handlebar moustache. “So many things have happened that we cannot explain. The return of the City, the weakening of the blizzards and all the evil in the air… I can’t help but feel they are all connected somehow. Leave this land and let us be.”

“We have every right to be here, same as you. Who are you anyway?” The old stallion would not say another word. He resumed his mindless observation of the surroundings. No matter how many taunts Lars slung at him, Hroldar remained mute. Rather than losing his temper, one of his bad habits, Lars turned heel and trudged back towards Melon with long, heavy steps.

The violet earth pony anxiously awaited his return, but he could see that Hroldar would still not move. “No luck, huh?”

“No. I don’t think there’s any other way. I probably will have to beat some sense into him.”

Melon placed a hoof on Lars’ hand. “Please, don’t hurt him. I know that Trusty Gunner probably wouldn’t mind if you killed him, but that’s not how I want things to be done in Raven Rock. Just… knock some sense into him?”

Lars could not resist the swimming, chocolate brown eyes. “Jeez, not like I planned on hurting him too bad, anyway. I’ll teach him a lesson and that’s it.”

Melon grinned mischievously, and Lars went back to Hroldar.

“I have nothing further to say to you. You are ruining the land,” the old pony said serenely, but Lars began wrapping up the sleeves of his one piece.

“No dice. If you’re not going to leave, then I will make you leave.”

“Are you challenging a Skaal warrior to a duel? I did not take you for a fool before.”

“And neither will you have a reason to. I was a fairly adept boxer in my academy years.” The one with the advantage was he that struck first. With that adage in mind, Lars lunged his fist at Hroldar. The old pony swayed out of the way and butted his head. Lars stepped back. The two fighters assessed the other for an opening and for their level of technique.

“Have at you,” Hroldar said. His front hoof missed Lars barely as he reared up and left him open for an uppercut from the human. The old stallion fell down on his hooves again and shook his head. “You hit hard. But only a fool would think a Skaal warrior so easily defeated.”

Lars rubbed his sore hand. A pony head was hardly more dangerous than hitting a human head, but still plenty dangerous unless you knew what you were doing. It had been too long for Lars since he had last resorted to fists however.

Hroldar reared on his hind legs again, leaving his front limbs free for jabbing. The position did not offer him stability however. Instead it made him stagger, additionally making his movements difficult to read. It also got him up into the vicinity of Lars’ face.

The two continued their fight with renewed vigour. Hroldar got one in from his surprising speed. Lars reared from the blow and nursed his cheek. He retaliated with several blows around the pony’s body, distracting Hroldar for a few more to his face. Finally the pony fell on his back. He was laughing heartily, not bothering to right himself.

“Truly you are a strong warrior. I will concede to leave, for now.”

“Well I would be lying if I said that wasn’t fun. Certainly brought up some old memories.” Lars panted and leant up against the mine building. His face was red from exertion.

They were silent for a moment. Before any of them had a chance to add anything, however, the air grew violently thick. Lars had barely had time to catch his breath. Suddenly it was stuck in his throat. An oppressive feeling of raw ferocity drew him to his knees. The feeling was shared by the other workers. All of them dropped to the ground.

With frightful eyes, the Skaal warrior looked upside down towards the far-off fort. Icy dread filled Lars’ veins. Beastly growls carried with the wind and were soon followed by loud smashing and tearing and destroying. Whatever made it was neither pony nor beast but something in between. Lars forced himself up. It was hard, and he was already worn out from the fight, so he didn’t get up more than to bent knees.

“You must not return to your fort,” Hroldar said with sweat pouring from his brow.

“Why not?” Lars put his hands on his legs, gathering strength to get up completely.

“Evil has visited it. It will not be safe for you to go!” The old stallion’s voice was quavering with what was unmistakable fear. As soon as it had come, just as quickly did it leave again. The darkness folded back in itself. The previous dimness seemed like daylight. The growls and howls drew back as well, vanishing into the forest. Hroldar got up on his hooves and ran off.

“That was worse than finding half a worm in your eaten apple,” Melon said. He dabbed his forehead with a rag as he went back towards Las. “Tell me, what was that?”

“Trouble,” Lars muttered. He accepted the sword that Melon brought him, but also noticed a fat pouch dangling off the belt.

“Your payment for getting rid of that strange stallion.” Melon winked, and Lars felt the leather purse. It was far heavier than the last one he had received. He fished out a coin and saw they were larger than before as well, each of them with the number ‘100’ written on them. “To show that we appreciate your help. Now don’t make me ask you to check up on the fort, Lars. I know that you worry as much as I do.”

The workers got up around them as well, shaking or rubbing their heads. Their puzzled looks all told of the mysterious force that had been at work. Lars strapped the sword around his waist, put the purse into his suit and made his way back to the fort.

All wildlife seemed to have been swallowed by the earth. Where there before at least were some noises from birds or squirrels or wolves, Lars could hear nothing. His trip back to the fort went undisturbed. No monsters or creatures of any kind bothered him. The darkness had frightened them all off. Left was only an eerie silence that made him rub his arms despite his warm clothes.

He returned in record time to the fort. The guards were all gathered in the courtyard around the broken well. Its roof lay flatly across the hole with its support beams spread about it. The arch over the train station entrance was demolished but rubble was largely cleared away. The guards did not look up as he crossed the grassy ground.

The female guard that had accompanied Lars to the smuggler’s den ran up to him. She was quite out of breath and nearly in tears. “Oh it was horrible. I tried being brave and fight but they were just so frightening and I can’t believe I’m still alive.” She rubbed up against him, with her head on his abdomen.

“What did this?” he asked, getting caught up in her frenzy and stroking her exposed blonde mane. Her helmet, discarded, was nowhere to be seen.

“It was the wolves, except these were big and black and with red eyes. I have never seen something like that before, and by Celestia I never hope to again,” she sobbed into his suit.

The guards grumbled and moaned their agreement. Their armours were in many cases dented, but he saw no pony too badly injured. Those with greater wounds were supposedly being taken care of elsewhere, he reasoned. “You haven’t seen Captain Crush?” he asked out aloud.

Sugar Heart pushed away from him and wiped her eyes before tears had a chance to come. Her face was professional again. “He’s probably back in his office. Could you also find Chrysanthemum Blossom, the other guard I was arguing with? I haven’t seen him since the attack.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He placed a hand on her exposed head, making her blush in annoyance. She shook her head to get the hand off. He couldn’t help but chuckle slightly until a chill wind again bore down on them. It brought with it all the evil omens that pony and man could think of. The shivers he felt were as much of the cold as of an instinctual fear.

He tried not to give too much thought to more wolf creatures but the inside of the general quarters had been turned upside down with vicious intelligence. Blood adorned the floors and walls along with shredded rugs, ripped tapestries and chunks of stone. The upper floors had been defended and remained intact however. Still the office of Captain Crush was empty. Lars stood across the desk when hoof beats announced somepony’s entrance. He almost expected the captain, but it was one of the anonymous guards instead.

“Captain Crush is not here anymore. I saw them. Take him away, I mean.” The voice was unmistakable that of the other pony he could have taken to the smuggler’s den. Lars turned around slowly.

“The wolves?”

“No. Not mere wolves, sir. Werewolves. The others don’t believe it but I saw them myself.” Chrysanthemum Blossom’s voice was oddly calm yet his face was paler than before. Sweat drenched his brow, and blood his armour. “They took the Captain and then they left. None of us would have been alive if their mission had been to wipe us out.”

Lars pondered the words for a few moments that could have been eternities stretching out the world forever. “I,” Lars began and wetted his lips before continuing. “I have seen many things here in Equestria. Minotaurs, griffins, pegasuses… these werewolves, did they behave like transformed ponies or more like me?”

“I cannot say. Only that they were agile.” Chrysanthemum Blossom swallowed a heavy lump in his throat. “Those beasts just came out of nowhere. We barely had time to arm ourselves before they were upon us. And then they left again. I was too busy staying alive to notice anything particular about them.”

“Forgive my curiosity. Then, did everypony survive?”

The question eased Chrysanthemum Blossom somewhat, and he tensed down. Even smiled. “Yes, by the Princess, it is a miracle that no one was too badly hurt. Though I still worry about the Captain. I cannot imagine what they would want with him.”

“Me neither.” Silence fell on the room. Chrysanthemum Blossom made his way back when a thought occurred to Lars. He ran to catch up with the pony. “What do you know of the Skaal?”

“The Skaal, you say? Hmm. Not much I fear. We didn’t even know of their existence until lately. It could be that they reappeared with the Crystal City, or that they were hidden inside the terrible snowstorms. Before King Sombra’s defeat, before even the Crystal City reappeared, fierce blizzards made Fort Frostmoth the most northerly point available.”

“What’s your personal take on them?”

“Well, they seem peaceful enough. ‘Course, I only meet them now and then when I’m out on patrols. I think they have a village some way directly north of here, if you want to meet them.”

“I think I will,” Lars said and punched a fist into his other hand. “They know something of what’s going on, if they aren’t directly responsible for it.”

“I doubt they will welcome you with open arms,” Chrysanthemum Blossom said as they descended the spiral staircase. “We’ve tried talking to them in the past, but they only tell us to get off their land.”

“Won’t be a problem. I’ve already beaten one of their warriors in battle.”

At first Chrysanthemum Blossom smiled. Before they could reach the bottom, the smile had turned to roaring laughter. The other guards gathered on the ground floor chuckled nervously along.

The trek towards the Skaal village took him half a day and got him out of the forest, leading him around snow-clad hills and a frozen lake. Even the weather seemed nicer but dark clouds still choked most of the blue and allowed little sunlight to shine down. The Skaal village was perched on top of a hill with dunes of snow flanking its sides. It was not much of a village though. Only a collection of large huts with a bustle of activity. The ponies were all dressed in leathers and skins with blue paint marking their faces.

The villagers he met all pointed him to the far hall, the biggest building of them all by nearly twice the size. The Greathall was a wooden square guarding stamped dirt in the middle and a ring of stone tiles around that. A strong earth pony sat atop a stone dais, on a wooden throne. His hair was grey and he wore ashen armour that covered everything save his orange face. When he spoke, it was with an accent that Lars couldn’t place but one that was as cold and hard as the frozen wasteland where he lived.

“What brings you to the Skaal, outlander?” he asked with a kindhearted smile. The rest of his court looked on from the side lines, behind the pillars and near the stairs on the left.

“Fort Frostmoth was just attacked. I couldn’t help but notice that one of your warriors appeared conveniently before that and disappeared right after.”

Angry murmurs broke out all around them, but the earth pony dismissed them with a single scoff. “You speak boldly. I would wish to know your name and your race. We have not seen one so curious-looking as you before.”

“Lars Leland, and I am a human.”

“Tharsten is my name, and Heart-Fang is what they call me.” The stallion ventured down his platform to stand before Lars, his metal outfit clanking with every movement. “Yes, I know of the attack but we are not behind it. What you’re looking for are wolves, but not any ordinary kind.”

“Werewolves?” Lars expected jeering or at least sniggering from his remark but was met only with frightened gasps that made it run cold down his back. Tharsten however remained upbeat.

“Indeed. This is the first time they had the audacity to group together and attack a settlement in broad daylight, though. They are getting bolder and it concerns me. That it should be your fort first, though, does not surprise me.”

“And why is that?” Lars asked and crossed his arms, still not entirely certain whether the gesture was recognised by ponies.

“We Skaal have lived here in peace with nature for a long time. Your fort and now your mine is an invasion of that sanctity.”

“I hate to break it to you, but that fort wasn’t exactly built yesterday either. It’s probably been there for centuries.”

Confused whispering arose, and even Tharsted needed a moment with a puzzled expression. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Skaal warriors have tried for hundreds of years to reach the location where your fort now stands. There’s never been anything there until a month ago.”

Lars shook his head. “Don’t you know what has happened here?” Tharsten did not reply, but his face said ‘enlighten me.’ “A thousand years ago, the evil King Sombra enslaved the Crystal City for sinister purposes. The Princesses vanquished him but he cursed the city with his last power so that it would vanish with him. A month ago that curse reached the end of its time limit. The current wielders of the Elements succeeded in driving King Sombra out but he’s still out there, licking his wounds.”

“Hmm.” Tharsten cast his head down. For the first time, the court did not react. Should they laugh at the ridiculousness? Cheer for the information? Instead Tharsten spoke for his villagers. “You speak of a great many things that we have never heard of before, or things that have been passed on to us only in legends. Had you been any other outlander we would have dismissed your claims right away, but you have beaten Hroldar in fair battle. We shall deliberate on your words but do not expect us to make friends with the fort immediately. I still feel your people are to blame for all these troubles in some way. Leave us be, Lars Leland, and do not return for a few days. By then we will have reached our conclusion.”

Tharsten returned to his throne and large earth ponies gathered in front of the platform. The conversation was over. Lars could only return with unaccomplished mission. Chrysanthemum Blossom sighed despairingly at the news but also bade him be patient. A few questions lingered in Lars’ unconscious. If the guards and the Skaal had never been able to meet, then how had Swirl the Smart crossed into the Frozen Wasteland and gone back again? And who were the Skaal if neither crystal ponies nor from Equestria?

CHAPTER 2 PART 3: THE MISSING SUPPLY SHIP

Three days was a long enough waiting period for Lars. The fort had lost what little of its spirit it had retained. Chrysanthemum Blossom had taken over in Captain Crush’s disappearance with Sugar Heart as his second in command. Even they could do nothing to raise the morale as they themselves were stifling under the dark clouds.

The only one somewhat enjoying his time was Trusty Gunner. The profits from the mine were coming in little by little and it was enough to put a smile on anyone’s face. Just as Lars was about to leave the fort out of the still crumbled arch, a guard pony stopped him and directed him to Trusty’s office. The elegant pony sat as always in a fine black doublet with cream-coloured frills. His lime green mane was short and kempt back.

“The mine is positively a hit, and all thanks to you!” Trusty chuckled heartily, all smiles from ear to ear.

“I’m glad to hear that but I was actually going to the Skaal village for a visit.” Lars stuck his thumb over his shoulder with his legs already halfway out of the door.

“Ah yes, those savages. Get your priorities in order, my friend. You came here to help with the mine first and foremost.”

“Don’t you tell me why I came here,” Lars countered and got up to the desk. “I’m here because there’s something more precious to me than ebony possibly hidden in the depths of that mine. How I pass the time until that is uncovered is none of your business.”

“My friend!” Trusty said a few tones higher than normal and slammed his hooves on the desk so that Lars took a step back in surprise. “That mine is mine and everything that is unveiled inside. Unless you want me to keep your precious item I suggest you do as I tell you.”

Lars did not have a retort for that. Trusty leant back in his chair and smiled sickeningly, like a toad observing a fly dance before its eyes, ready to flick out its tongue at any moment. “Now then, I just need you to run a small errand. Should hardly take you long and then you can get back to your ah… savages.”

“What is it you need then?” Lars asked through gritted teeth.

“Oh, nothing much. Just a shipping manifest so I can calculate the expenses properly and get an exact amount for the income. Your pay as usual, befitting such a small task.” Trusty pushed a leather pouch across the desk. Lars accepted it and turned on his heel. It was nowhere the size of the pay he got from Melon, but he still knew it to be generous.

There were many things Lars could have told him, like “Get your lackey out in the hall to do it,” but ultimately Lars kept his tongue. The threat posed to him was very real and legal to boot. So with no other choice, Lars set sail once again for Raven Rock. Melon approached him with delight as he waded through the water and up on dry, cold land.

“What a surprise to see you here, my slice of tall, dark and handsome. Did you come here just to see little old me?”

“No, I’m just here for a shipping manifest,” Lars said, delighted to be out of the fortress in any case, but also to talk with Melon. The strong, violet earth pony looked up at him confused however.

“We don’t even have a dock here, what in the world does that lunatic want with a shipping manifest?”

Lars looked behind him, as if seeing the unspoiled bay for the first time. “Oh yeah,” he mumbled to himself and put a hand through his thinning, corn blonde hair. Melon shook his head.

“I swear, if this is a game… Nothing else to do than investigate, right? Go talk with the ponies around town, see if they have seen anything. Though a pier might be a good thing to get next.”

A bald earth pony enjoying a drink by the mine entrance was the one that supplied Lars with the proper information. His broken pickaxe lay next to him along with a lunchbox. “Dunno about a ship, outlander, but I did see a light to the northwest last night. Wonder what it could be, but I’m not paid enough to leave the colony any time soon.”

“A light, huh? I wonder if that’s what Trusty Gunner wanted.”

The northwest direction was just following the bank of the river out of the forest and through breathtaking landscape. The sun forced its rays out of the dark clouds and gave the crystal clear water and snowy heaps a golden sheen. The animals kept to the forest but he could still hear them in the distance. He tried not to think about oversized wolves.

A ship was indeed marooned up the coast. Its masts were all broken off and the tub itself lay capsized halfway up on land. Black creatures scuttled around the ship, investigating it and sniffing it out. They turned their heads as they noticed Lars coming nearer. He could but gasp at what he saw. Three humanoid creatures dressed in nothing but loincloths and leather wrappings made their way towards him. Their skin was sunken into their flesh, exposing their ribs and skulls. Glowing red orbs were all they had left for eyes.

“Why are all the humans I meet undead?” He unsheathed his swords as the living corpses shuffled towards him. “I don’t suppose you could tell me your story? I don’t think I ever found out why the last ones rose to walk again.”

“Sovngarde saraan!” one of them spat, and thus they approached him, slightly hunched over. Their skin was tough like leather and their bones hard as stone. He soon saw why. The first undead finally fell after hacking at it three times. He could not split it top to bottom as hoped, but he still managed to open it up. Large crystals grew out of the bones.

The second one was stabbed through the chest. Not enough to initially re-kill it but sending great sparks of electricity through it did the trick. It shivered and then slid off the blade, unmoving. The third one was too stupid to realise its disadvantage. It fell on his shoulders and commenced a futile snacking. Its teeth could not penetrate the uniform. Lars kicked it back and stabbed it into its head. The skull came loose, hanging only by a strip of withered skin. The undead fell to its knees.

“You came! Much as I expected.” The voice was followed by a mocking laughter. On top of the ship appeared a shape. His light purple coat coupled with the long, grey hair was unmistakable.

“Swirl the Smart? No, Butterscotch Delight… but you’re supposed to be…”

“Encapsulated in a small bubble at the bottom of the sea? Yes, I still am, don’t worry.” He smiled sanctimoniously down at Lars from his perch on the guard rail. A gust of wind made his form flicker. “The time is near, however. The freeing of the Crystal Empire is one of the last signs. Soon I can rouse from my artificial slumber.”

“Are you behind this then? The werewolves and these undead?” Lars got nearer to the ship but there was no way up there. Instead he stood in front of it, fuming and shouting in frustration.

“The undead? Ah, you mean my draugr! Yes, I created them in hopes of understanding you humans since I couldn’t wake you from your sleep. Seems some of them got out their nearby barrow when they smelled all the death. But the werewolves? Oh no, something as devilish as that almost makes me regret I didn’t think of it.”

“And why should I believe you?” Lars asked and pointed the sparking sword up at Butterscotch. “Don’t tell me you are innocent in that matter.”

Butterscotch smirked. “There is an evil in this land far greater than me. I am excited to see what he is up to after all these years and all his defeats. It makes my coat prickle even in my astral projected form.” With that, Butterscotch slowly dematerialised with his laughter still ringing. Lars lowered the sword tip and sighed deeply.

“Are they gone yet?” a firm voice called out. A bright orange earth pony female came around from the behind the ship. She flicked her dark olive mane out of her similarly coloured eyes and stared intently at Lars. “You were just talking to that strange apparition so I guess you’re not of them… though you do look a lot like them.” She looked him up and down suspiciously, but Lars simply sheathed his sword.

“I’m not a draug. I’m a human, and I come from the East Empire Company. You mind telling me what you were doing with this ship?”

“Transporting supplies,” she added nonchalantly and tossed her head towards the wreck. “We sailed up the coast looking for a place to a dock but got too close to some rocks. Those awfully smelling things killed most of the survivors.”

“You have my sincerest apologies.”

She merely shrugged. “The name’s Spring Darling, and unless you’re too busy talking with ghosts, I’d like escort to the East Empire Company.”

“Lars Leland,” he said, but got the instinctive feeling she wasn’t about to care. Her attention was directed every which way but at him, especially at the undead behind him. “Before we leave, it might be a good idea to salvage what we can.”

“The… draugr you called them? They took what little wasn’t destroyed or washed away. All that’s left is the crate where I tactically hid away while waiting for better odds.”

“Might as well poke around a little. You never know what you will find.”

The cause of the shipwreck was the large hole that also served as the entrance. Only a few crew members were left inside, none of them in a mentionable shape. Lars carefully stepped past them, wading first knee deep in the icy waters and then working himself up the slippery lower floor. A single crate was still tied to the wall, but only barely. The few other crates had been smashed open and their content plundered. Not investigating the content of the surviving crate, Lars first cut the last rope holding it and then hoisted it up on his back.

The return trip took him a little longer than getting there. The crate itself took up most of the weight and burdened him considerably. It was fortunately not long back to Raven Rock but he was panting and sweating by that time. His face was red as a tomato when he finally put the crate down. Spring Darling sprinted ahead as soon as she the first buildings. It was instead Melon that came to his help.

“Well now, I guess you found our mystery ship.”

“Wrecked and overrun by the undead,” he said a little too offhandedly while wiping his brow. Melon opened his mouth to say something, but all he could stammer was:

“U-undead?”

“Mmm,” Lars mumbled in recognition and scratched his chin. “Seen a few of them in the past, but that was just walking bones. These draugr were like human analogues with skin still clinging to their frame.”

Melon was not exactly offered the explanation he had hoped for. After a few moments of consideration he simply decided to change the subject. “What was the ship here for?”

“Supplies, but this crate is all that’s left I fear.” He patted the lid, so Melon whistled to the bald worker from before. He came over to them with a crowbar and wrenched open the top. Inside were a handful of pickaxes.

“A true treasure trove.” Melon used his front hooves to pull him up so he could see the content properly. “Finders keepers, so how about I pay you five hundred per pickaxe?”

“F-five hundred?” Lars exclaimed and flinched a few steps back. “I couldn’t possibly accept that.”

“It’s all right,” Melon winked up at him. “After your little adventure you deserve a better pay than whatever handout Trusty Gunner gave you. And besides, we can afford it with the way this mine is going. So let’s see, six pickaxes a five hundred each equals to three thousand bits total. Right?”

All Lars could say was, “Blimey.” He nearly forgot his appointment with the Skaal until Melon got him out of his stupor with a whip of his tail. The pouch was the heaviest, and biggest, yet but still fit seamlessly into his suit. Once the transaction had been completed Lars quickly made his way across the Frozen Wasteland towards the Skaal village.

Chapter 3: Pilgrimage

I have seen a few things since coming to the frozen north. I’ve been attacked by wolves, I have hunted down smugglers and I have cleansed a ship from my undead kin. Yet through it all the thought of werewolves frighten me most. Out of all things, even the dark cloud looming over my head, only werewolves are something that I have yet to encounter. Not even in my world did we have them. What could they possibly be? I’m meeting up with the Skaal who will hopefully be able to enlighten me.

CHAPTER 3 PART 1: MAKING A CHOICE

“The council is still debating on your words. You have earned our respect, but not our trust. To remedy this you must perform the Test of Loyalty.” The guard, like the others, was draped in thick, coarse leather and a priceless mace dangled from his belt. Blue stripes across his face marked his rank among the Skaal. “Go to our shaman, outlander. Speak with Korst Wind-Eye and be on your way.”

The guard had nothing further to say, but tossed his head west from the Greathall where he was standing. Lars eyed the stallion suspiciously, but followed the instructions nonetheless. The Shaman’s Hut was off to a side, one of the larger ones and separated from the other huts. The interior was bare, with little furniture, but it was warm. Korst was wrapped in leathers and furs as well, but it gave him the appearance of wearing a coat rather than armour. Even his hooves were adorned with little shoes. His coat, only visible on his face, was green like wet grass and his long mane flowing down his back was periwinkle.

“You are the human that has been causing all the ruckus. The village is abuzz with rumours you’ve been spreading.”

Lars stepped inside and closed the door behind him, shrugging the cold off him. “They are not rumours. I am speaking the truth as clearly as I saw it,” he replied. Korst swung his hoof to a pair of benches opposite each other with a fire pit between them.

“There certainly were a lot of implications in your little speech in the Greathall the other day. I’m glad I didn’t miss it. A shame how the hopeful and the fearful has twisted it.”

The fire crackled as Lars sat down on the bench. Fire illuminated his face in the relatively dimness of the room. It was still dark in the farthest corner and only a small circle around was pit was lighted as there were no windows. “I hope the council will make the right decision. If taking this test of loyalty will help me towards that end, then I’ll do it.”

“It’s not going to be easy, outlander.” Korst prodded at the fire with a stick, the flames swimming in his eyes along with memories. “Regardless of what has happened, the Skaal are losing their power. The creatures of this land are getting out of our control. Dark clouds hang over our heads. Your people coming here are to blame for this, at least partly. You must make the pilgrimage if we are to fix the disturbances.”

Lars shifted his weight on the seat. “Pilgrimage? I’m not a religious man, just saying,” he said and straightened his back.

Korst chuckled and remained hunched over on the bench, his face near the warm embers. “This will not be a religious experience, do not worry. The balance, or harmony, of the Oneness must be restored and there are a number of tasks to be performed to reach that end. Here.” From inside his clothes Korst dragged out a small, leather-bound book.

Lars accepted it and leafed through it with a cursory glance. “A diary?” he asked, finding a rough map that he judged to be the frozen wasteland from his last look at a map. “And a few markings. What is this?”

“The Story of Aevar Stone-Singer, the first Skaal to find the stones. He marked all their locations and we go to them for prayer and guidance. Now is the time to repeat his journey. You must understand who we Skaal are and why this land is so important to us. For this journey, the trip will be as important as the destination. I hope you can understand, or at least will come to.” The shaman looked up at Lars with tired eyes.

The markings were spread out all over the wasteland. Some of the stones, like the one of Wind and Beast, were close, whereas the ones of Tree and Sun were much further away. The Earth stone was close to Raven Rock and the Water stone also close. “Is there any order to these stones or can I pick any route I’d like?” Lars asked, and the shaman shook his head. He studied the map on his lap for a moment before finally tracing it contraclockwise with a finger. “If I do this, it will bring me closer to you as a people?” The shaman nodded. “And you will answer any question I have?” Again the shaman nodded, but only after a longer deliberation.

“What do you wish to know? The fort only wants to know how to get rid of us.”

“Not true, I’m sure they’re as curious about you as I am.” Lars scratched his chin while trying to put words to the first question. “I’m looking for someone like myself and you know a lot about the land. I was hoping you could help me.”

“Someone like yourself? It is true that you are a most singular individual yet I can’t help but feel a certain familiarity. I will look into it while you are gone,” Korst said and stood up from his bench.

Lars followed suit with the little book disappearing into the folds of his uniforms and the map still clutched in his hand. “Then I will hurry back, though… this is probably going to take me a while to complete.” The two of them shared a courteous bow before Lars went out into the village again.

There was a quiet calm about the village. Unlike the fort that seemed beset with worry and anxiety, the Skaal were relaxed and went about their normal business. There was a tanner at the opposite edge of town, a blacksmith that Lars passed on his way out and hunters stringing their bows on porches. None of them paid any mind to him, almost defiantly so. They must have known the ideas he represented. Rather than facing the changes, they hoped to ignore them and wait for their superiors to make a decision. Lars left the village behind as unnoticed as he had entered.

The first stone was far to the southwest, across a long bridge spanning a raging river and through forests alternating with rugged terrain filled with snow. The usual assortment of animals came to bother him but he managed to stay mostly clear of trouble. The Water Stone protruded majestically like a tall pillar, a beacon for all to see for miles. Waves were carved into its surface. He touched them, and as he did, a voice spoke in his ears.

“Travel west to the river and follow the Swimmer to the Waters of Life.”

“Well that was weird,” he said and pulled away from the rock, like his fingers were glued to the surface. “At least it has accepted me.”

He scaled the slanting cliffs to reach the ice-filled river. The waters were slow and plates of ice were thick on the surface. The cold liquid lapped at his feet like a thirsty cat would drink from its bowl. It was a clear day with little wind. He could see far and wide out over the river and to the expansive wasteland beyond. Somewhere down the course of it Raven Rock lay.

There was a small eyot a short distance north of his position. From it he heard strange sounds, almost like a walrus or a sea lion. What the difference was he had never memorised despite reading about them and even seeing them in the zoo. That had been a long time ago, arguably. It just hit him how ponies didn’t really keep animals in cages like that. There were useful animals that they had gone into partnerships with. Like sheep that provided them with wool and to whom they offered protection in turn. And pigs. What they were keeping pigs for he hadn’t found out. Maybe truffles? The honking brought him out of his train of thoughts.

The water looked icy, but as dipped his boots into it, he felt nothing but the honking in his ears. Neither warmth nor cold. Just the beckoning animal noise. His entire body sank into the water with his eyes set on the small island. He got closer and closer until he could see the creature calling out to him. A seal sat on a large flake of ice, except it looked like no seal he had ever seen. It was covered in dark fur and where its mouth should be was a long skin tube with tendrils sticking out. It hopped into the water as he drew closer and fast disappeared into the water.

“Follow the Swimmer, eh?” he mumbled to himself and scratched his cheek. “That must be you then.”

Lars dipped into the water with face and everything. Still he felt nothing. Not even the urge to breathe or close his eyes. He could see as well as on land. The honking continued, now acting as a guide for him. Deeper and deeper he followed the Swimmer. Anyone but the most professional divers could not have made the trip without aching for air. But Lars simply swam after the majestic creature.

The Swimmer stopped at the very bottom of the deep river where a natural cave awaited him. The weird seal hovered above the entrance, clearly wanting him to go inside with its nodding and pointing with head and flipper. Inside he found a pocket of air. Snow crunched under his feet and echoed off the ice walls. Shaking off the water, he discovered himself to be completely dry. Even his hair was crisp and untouched. He looked behind him where the Swimmer looked at him through the pool of water. Its eyes were small and blacker than its fur, but there seemed to be endless wisdom in them.

“How strange,” he noted to himself while rubbing his arms from an invisible chill. “I can almost feel your presence watching over me.”

The seal thing said nothing, but simply honked out loud. Lars took it as his cue to press onwards. The walls of ice narrowed and widened at random. At times he needed to squeeze through small gaps and other times he almost felt the enormity crush him. It was mostly straightforward, and he could at last feel the coolness around him, but the route took him through sharp turns from time to time. He ended up in a chamber with more snow on the ground and ice taking up most of the space at the far end.

On top of a large block of ice, like the tongue of a giant lolling out, lay his price: a black flask. The skeleton of a pony still guarded it in death, its strong arms wrapped around it like a treasure worth more to it than life. He climbed up the slanted, slippery surface with his eyes locked on the Waters of Life. His foot slipped and he nearly fell down again. When he had managed to finally drag himself up, somepony awaited him.

With a shield still strapped to its arm and a steel sword in its mouth, the skeletal pony looked at him with its empty sockets. It tilted its skull to one side, perhaps so that it could better look at him. He jumped up on top, but found the rugged surface hard to stand on. He simply dug his golden boots into the cracks. His silver sparksword gave a distinct ring as it left its sheath. The skeletal pony hissed at him disapprovingly.

Lars held the sword tip at its face. “I just want the flask. Hand it over and no will get hurt.” The pony did not need long to deliberate on it. It sprang forward with the sword slicing at him. He stepped out of the way, and the pony landed next to him at the edge of the ice block. “The undead never listen. But then, I’ve found very few who do.”

Electrical sparks licked the sword, casting eerie shadows across the chamber. The walls themselves seemed to give off light, but only barely. His sword was able to outshine it. When it swung, the shadows danced quickly from wall to wall, down the floor and up to the ceiling. The pony had been a warrior and had not forgotten its skills. It blocked Lars’ swings with its shield and followed up with strike from its sword. Lars dodged and weaved to find an opening. He prodded, stabbed and hacked away.

The bones were not the crystal of the draugr. In fact, they seemed almost brittle from soaking and freezing and thawing and then freezing all over again and again. His first contact shattered the left shoulder. The whole arm fell apart. The rusty round shield clanged down the shelf and landed in the soft snow. The pony could no longer keep itself up, but still shook its head with the sword. The mobility was lost however. Lars quickly danced around it before it could drag itself along. His sword sunk deep into its spine. Mighty jolts surrounded its body. All animation ceased. The undead pony disintegrated into its base parts.

Lars wiped the sweat from his brow and sheathed the sword. “Not as young as I used to be, but I can still manage, it seems.” A low ringing, like a chord being ceaselessly activated, reminded him of his task. The black flask still stood in the middle of the ice block. “And I’ve earned my price as well, it seems. Do I drink this or what?”

Regardless of how he tried, however, the flask would not open for him. The stopper would not budge despite his best efforts. The Swimmer called out to him again with its moaning groans. He returned the way he came, carefully jumping down the shelf, crossing the chamber, snaking through the walls of ice and finally came back to the strange animal beckoning him. It disappeared down below the surface and he followed it, enjoying the same smooth ride he did last time. In no time at all, Lars was back up on dry land. It all felt like a dream. He was still not wet and the Swimmer had disappeared as well. All that was left was the flask in his hand. He took it back to the Water Stone where the voice called out to him again.

“You have returned the Gift of Water to the Skaal. The oceans again will bear fruit, and their thirst will be quenched.”

The pillar pulsated with light, but it was only the first of six. Lars sat down on a rock by the pillar, reading further into the story and consulting with his map. The next stone was further into the land, not far from Raven Rock. It took him quite a walk in avoiding frothing rivers and keeping to the path so as not to get lost. The rocky, snowy landscape changed to temperate forest. There he could see the Earth Stone on a small hill. Upon his touch the voice spoke to him again:

“Enter the Cave of the Hidden Music, and hear the Song of the Earth.”

He jerked himself free and shook his head. His face spoke volumes of the overwhelming experience involved with the mysterious and yet somehow familiar voice. It was probably just from having heard it a few times by then.

“Another cave? And of music of all things… Well, time to polish up on my third grade lessons,” he muttered to himself while taking out the map. Plenty of locations were noted on it. Among them were several small additions from past pilgrims. A route had been scribbled from the Earth Stone to a place northeast, back into the frozen wilderness. He gave a resigned sigh and continued his trek.

The Cave of the Hidden Music was impossible to miss. Stones as black as night were assembled against the snowy hillside with a round door in the middle. The first chamber was small and the only one that had actually been done something about. The hall that followed twisted and slithered up and down. So though not occupying a large amount a land, Lars still had to traverse a good distance. From every corner he rounded was also a draug. Just to make his job a little harder.

Finally getting to the end was a reward in itself. The chamber even smaller than the first one opened to a large natural cave. Not the roughly hewn tunnels or the decorated rooms, but a real cave with natural paths and large stones obstructing the way at random. A simple melody of four notes played out faintly throughout the room, drawing him closer to four stalagmites in the middle of the floor. Touching one produced a single note. “Heh… I see what’s going on here.”

The small song called out to him again as he experimented with the stones jutting up. Once he had learnt which stalagmite did what, he was ready to replicate the song filling the chamber. The song abruptly ended and, for a moment, it seemed like he was successful but then another song began to play instead. “Just as simple as the first one. Piece of cake.”

He gently touched the stalagmites again. A single note played from it. He repeated that with the other three until he had duplicated the second song. The voice once again called to him.

“The Gift of the Earth is with the Skaal again. The lands are rich again, and will bear life.”

Lars furrowed his brow as he looked up into the indiscernible ceiling. “I swear I’ve heard that voice before.” Even as he made his way out, Lars couldn’t help but keep an eye on his surroundings. “If someone’s mocking me, they’re going to pay dearly.”

Once outside, he found to his delight how close he was to Fort Frostmoth. It was getting late anyway. He would swing by the colony first and then the fort before continuing his pilgrimage early next morning. It was just supposed to have been brief visit but Melon ran up to him as soon as Lars set foot inside Raven Rock. The harbour had been built, along with more buildings. One of them looked to be an inn of some sort.

Melon was finely dressed as usual but also looking rather nervous. He kept avoiding eye contact and instead admired the surroundings and all the building they had gotten done. “Hey there, Lars. What a surprise!” he chuckled and looked up at the human. “W-what brings you here?”

“Is everything all right?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Melon nodded feverishly but then waved his hoof towards his ear. Lars bent his head down. Melon looked around as if to make sure no pony was listening in. “There’s something I would like you to consider. You can of course turn me down if you want, I’ll understand,” Melon almost whispered.

Lars couldn’t help but smile heartily. “Melon, what’s gotten into you? If there is anything, just tell me already,” he said and straightened up again

Melon took a deep breath and sighed deeply. “The time has come to make a choice. Trusty Gunner has made as much apparent,” he said, still in a low voice, still keeping an eye on the workers. “Not in so many words, but his ideas for the mine are just monstrous. That pony is unscrupulous and makes the hair on my back stand on end.”

A chill wind howled down from the mountains and sunk its chilly teeth into their flesh. “You want me to pick a side?” he asked after a moment.

Melon nodded, shivering ever so slightly. “Choose wisely, Lars. Trusty Gunner isn’t likely to be happy if you turn against him. I understand completely if you’d rather stay by him.” Though those were his words, his eyes betrayed them. They told the truth, filled with sincerity and pleas.

Lars shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Trusty Gunner is the sponsor, and the one Celestia trusted with this mission. I can’t just betray him. I would be lying, though, if I said didn’t make it run cold down my back as well. Look, I’ll think about this, all right?”

As he left, Melon lifted a hoof in another argument but his politeness prevented him. Lars waved behind him as he went back towards the fort. It truly did gnaw at him to be put into that position. He was lost in thought for the duration of the trip. But even he was not blind to a supernatural presence, unseen but not unfelt, seeming to watch over him. The animals stayed away from him. Only their noises could be heard accompanying him. The dark clouds obscuring the sky were as gloomy as ever. The guards at the fort were no less depressed under the weather. Their eyes shifted quickly. Despite the cold, sweat often lined up under their helmets and dripped uncomfortably down their necks.

Trusty Gunner, contrarily, looked as happy as a stuffed pig. Several reports were scattered on his desk, all of them telling of the great growth spurts. Lars had not planned to visit him but the meeting in Raven Rock nettled him. His heart told him to go with one employer but his military discipline told him to go with another. He entered and saw for the slightest of moments a concerned frown quickly melting into the sickly exuberant smile that he had come to expect. “My friend!” Trusty called out and grinned from ear to ear. “It pleases me that you would come uninvited. Have you perhaps decided to follow me unquestioningly?”

He had to have picked up on the mood as well, probably being the one to instigate it. And now he was making the proposition as well. “I am still contemplating,” Lars answered equably but far less comfortable and confident than usual.

Trusty merely snorted. “Ah, but something drew you to me regardless. Why else would you have come?” There could be something about that. Trusty jumped down from his seat and stamped the floor. His ratty lackey entered with a pitcher of wine and two cups on a tray and placed it on the desk. He slinked out again with his protruding teeth and mangy tail. “Stick with me, my friend, and you will be swimming in all the gold you’d want. The sales are going better than I could have imagined.”

“I am not here for gold. There’s something, someone, that I’m trying to find in the ground. That’s why I’m here.”

“Loyalty weighs heavily on you, does it? Then you already know who you should follow.” Trusty poured himself a healthy cupful and swigged it down like water. Lars was more hesitant and remained dry. “Melon is a good enough fellow, but weak in will and prospect. My methods may not always be, ah… entirely within the law but I am just doing what I think is best for my mine.”

“I’ll sleep on it.”

“Eh? Yes, of course. Dreams are the guide to a man’s soul, and what man wouldn’t want power and wealth!”

Lars went out of the room again with a slight nod. “I suppose,” he muttered and then added, less audible: “Loyalty above all… except honour.”

CHAPTER 3 PART 2: THE SKAAL TEST OF LOYALTY

Early next morning Lars set out again with renewed energy. He was going to take a deviation from the Aevar’s route. As there was no true way to go about it, he could simply take the tests in any order he wanted. And looking on the map showed that taking the Sun Stone next would make for a better route. It required him to traverse the borderlands between the Frozen North and Equestria before seeing the pillar rising high into the sky from a hill. It was almost warm and little snow remained on the dry ground.

His hand touched the rough surface and the pillar ignited in light. “The gentle warmth of the Sun is stolen, so now it only burns. Free the Sun from the Halls of Penumbra,” the solemn voice said. Lars broke free again and nearly tumbled down the hill.

“Halls of Penumbra, then. Let’s see what the book has to say about that.”

Lars turned towards the west again, back the way he had come for such was marked on his map. A small depression in the landscape guided him to a pile of large boulders apparently thrown together at random and then covered in snow. A dirt mound had been raised in front of it with a shabby door set into it. Chill air blasted into his face as he opened it. All surfaces were ice and everywhere the floor was covered in snow. But he had his insulating suit and golden boots. Stalwart he braved the cold and trod inside.

The path seemed to be blocked further ahead however. It seemed to be a cave in after many years of disrepair, but the cave was almost completely dark. It was impossible to see properly. The blockage moved. Spikes of ice rustled as if tasting the air. It turned around, making Lars yelp. The obstacle was alive like nothing out of the real world. Taller than him, looking like a mixture of elephant of human, it was frightening enough to make him take a step back. The claws on its round feet and human hands were ice, as were the tusks on its face. All it was missing was a trunk.

Lars clutched his sword tightly in his hands. Each step from the beast made the roof rumble. Dust of ice drizzled down on them, making it run cold down his back. The beast swiped out at him with its claws while exclaiming a nasal, otherworldly sound. Its portly body did not allow for speed however. He was able to run in between its arms as it finished a swing. The sword slid into its blubbery body. It reared its head and howled in pain. There was no blood. The beast simply crystallised completely before shattering into pieces.

Lars wiped his nose before he could sneeze. “Was that it?” Another beastly howl tore at the air. A pair of red eyes gleamed from further down the hall. Once again Lars raised his sword. “Guess not.”

The Halls of Penumbra were filled with dead ends where many a pony treasure hunter had met their ends. Whether frozen to death or succumbing to their wounds was never clear apart from broken bones and ripped tatters. The beasts were everywhere to be found, roaming around like giant guardians of the ice, threatening to kill him with tusk and claw, or stamping him under their feet. After hours of trial and error, backtracking and monster killing, the corridor finally opened up.

It was perhaps even darker inside the room. Only light was a large pair of glowing orbs right in front of him, along with a smell of stale sea water. His sword filled with sparks and the room became bright enough for him to see just ahead. The orbs reddened and moved. Swish. Lars put up his sword just in time. The claws bit into the blade while the monster howled. It was larger than the others, and its very presence was enough to chill down the room.

“You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” he grunted. There was no way he could keep blocking the hand pressing down on him. He rolled out of the way so that the beast staggered forward. “But not too bright. That’s at least comforting.”

The beast pounded its chest, sending ripples through its blubber. Lars backed up against the back of the room but met only a cold wall of ice. The room was just barely big enough for him and the beast. It snarled and charged him. He quickly moved as the red orbs came at him with dangerous speed. The beast smashed into the ice and stumbled back, swaying back and forth. Lars saw the opportunity and took it. He vaulted up on the beast’s slouched back and grabbed hold of a spike. His sword sank in its flesh. It reared back, cried out in agony and threw him off. Ice covered its entire body before it, like all the others, shattered. But unlike the others, it left something of itself behind. One its eyes, nothing more than a glowing red ball covered in slime, rolled towards him.

Lars picked up the eye curiously. It was warm. Very warm. He had no choice but the quickly throw it away. It splattered against the back wall. Cracks split the hard surface. Water gushed from its wounds. Sunlight streamed in and bathed Lars’ body in warmth. “The Gift of the Sun is the Skaal’s once again. It will warm them and give them light.”

He wasn’t even going to argue with the voice. He only wanted out. As the ice melted, it also provided him a way directly out. He peeked out his head and was nearly blinded by the light. But he smiled regardless. It felt warm outside again. A proud forest of pines and firs opened up before him. Towering out of it was another Stone. That was his next destination, and it wasn’t even midday yet. Lars was pumped for another test.

The Tree Stone was like the others before it but with a tree carved into its side. He took a deep breath before planting his hands on its rough surface.

“The First Trees are gone, and must be replanted. Find the seed and plant the First Tree.”

Such spoke the voice as it had to the first pilgrim so many centuries ago. Setting to his work with fervour, Lars wandered around the small forest. Again a spirit seemed to watch over him. Though he saw birds in the trees and foxes scamper away, he never met any wolves or bears. It was quiet and would almost have been a cosy trip, but the darkened sky was a like a single tonne weight on his shoulders.

Deep, deep into the forest he wandered till he came to a slant. At the bottom he saw an unmistakable human, but small like a pony and with blue skin. Its body was wrapped in leather like the Skaal but the clothes were much more crudely stitched together and never covering the whole body. In its left hand, the creature held a large piece of sharpened steel and in the other a pouch.

“Found you,” Lars muttered and walked down towards the creature. His feet crunching in the snow warned it however. The creature held up the pouch, seemingly doing nothing at first, so Lars continued down the hill when he fell head first into the snow. Looking behind him to see what had tripped him was a root. Shaped like a hoof.

A whole tree rose out of the ground, but shaped like a beautiful mare. Its boughs were like a thick, leafless mane and its roots its hoofs, the front legs studded with spikes like an oversized mole’s. Where its contours were soft and round its skin was bark filled with lichen and its face nothing more than a carving, mimicking a normal pony’s countenance. The little blue creature laughed sinisterly while rattling the pouch.

“You think this is funny? Try this on for size.” His sword slipped into the head of the living tree. It pulled back with another low-pitched screech. It fell to the ground like the wooden doll it was supposed to be. Dead. Lifeless. Thinking it safe, Lars got up again but felt a breath of wind behind him. The living tree was surrounded by a gust of leaves and petals and got up once more. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding.”

As if matters couldn’t be worse, a whole circle of the trees rose from the hilly ground to surround him. Quickly hacking down one only left him open for another one to swipe at him with its rough hooves. Not even the electrical sparks from his sword was of much use. He only had his own skills and the sturdiness of his suit. For the first time in a long time, his thoughts turned to the last sword he had owned and how in his current situation he missed it.

“I will not be defeated by a pair of oversized shrubs,” he called out and jumped over the circle. There was no winning if was surrounded. Even with all of his enemies in front of him it would be tough, but Lars did not know the meaning of defeat. He called forth all he had learnt about sword fighting and all of his military training. The sword hacked away in a frenzy and the trees just got right up again. He cut down the first tree again and then a third time until it was finally unmoving. “Huh?”

Realising that three was the magic number filled him with some hope. The prospect of fighting the remaining four thrice did take off some of the splendour. Their front legs were nasty and spiky and almost penetrated his suit. It was his face that worried him more. Though not a vain man, no one would like to have their face slashed up. Lars swung his sword and the long nails flew off one. The sword continued into its face. It screeched but the petal wind took its body in its embrace.

He exploited that time, the split second instant where it didn’t kick or scream or slash, to turn his back on it and kill off another while enduring attacks from the rest. Another one became unmoving, then another one and another one until they were all kindle at his feet. The little blue man growled at him and shook the crude piece of metal, shaped vaguely like a sword, in its hand. It would have been a dagger to a normal man, but it was a broadsword, a claymore or even a sabre to the little guy.

Lars hurried down the hill where the thing awaited him. It didn’t try to run away despite being having only the shank and the pouch, and despite Lars being so much taller. It was an ornery fellow with a ragged face screwed up in mischievous malice. Its stubby hands slashed out at him as fast as it could but Lars managed to step out of the way. Its armour proved ineffectual against a life-size sword. With its short reach, Lars could simply stab the hideous little thing from afar and watch it curse him in its own, foul language as life left it.

“I’ll be taking this,” he said as he stooped to pick up the pouch. Apart from its diminutive size and blue skin, the creature was oddly human to look at. How the creature had come to be and why would be another question that would nag him for long nights to come.

On his way back, Lars opened the pouch and found a single seed inside. He remembered the instruction given to him by the stone. Before reaching the Tree Stone completely Lars found a fitting place to plant the seed, in the middle of a small circle of stones. A warm glow, pulsating, emitted from the seed. As if happy to be back in the ground. “The Gift of Trees is restored. Once again, the trees and plants will bloom and grow, and provide nourishment and shade.”

He didn’t even want to bother with the voice anymore and quickly fished out the map from inside his suit somewhere. “That makes four, only two more to go,” he mumbled and set out once more. “The Skaal better appreciate what I’m doing for them here.”

The Sun beat down relentlessly. There was no wind to cool him. As he reached a lake, he sat down by its bank under a tree and enjoyed a lunch he had brought with him wrapped in a small blanket. There was something freeing about being out in the open. He could hunt for meat all he liked for one. Of course, he could only get himself to eat those things which didn’t talk back at him. Which precluded cows and sheep, but strangely not pigs. Again he became lost in his thoughts until he had finished his meal when he set off again.

A stream followed him for most of the trip and eventually ended out in a large lake. Creatures rested on flakes of ice, beasts like the Swimmer though smaller and coloured more like his own world’s walruses. They barked at him but with his distance, none of them bothered him just as he didn’t bother any of them.

The Beast Stone towered out of the landscape. Skaal village had emerged in the horizon as a small dot. He was not far from completing his task. Just this Stone and one more. He breathed deeply and put his hand to the surface. Soon he would be done running all over the wasteland.

“Travel south. Find the Good Beast and ease his suffering,” the voice boomed in his mind. The shortness of the message left him wanting more but nothing else came.

Cries of battle carried through the dunes of snow and the frosty hills. It was the screeches from the manling he had met earlier, though it sounded like there was an excited group of them. He ran as fast as he could back towards it. A bear roared up. The screeches became mirthful little laughs. The cold crept inside his suit and chilled him to the bone.

Standing on a hill he saw them. Some had swords like the last manling, others rode large boars while shooting arrows. In their midst was a large bear with fur like finest snow. It swiped at the beastly little people with its claws but the manlings stayed just out of reach, taunting it and leering at it as they slashed and shot it.

“The Good Beast, I presume.”

Lars ran down the hill screaming like a maniac. The manlings looked up from their bullying. Several of them cursed in their throaty language and some even pointed with weapons. The arrows pelted down on him from the two archers. Not only were they bad aims, the primitive missiles were no more than a short rap on his suit. They halted their barrage so the three swordsmen could go to work. They were so small and fragile that he had only to strike them sideways to send them flying. The Good Beast, no longer bothered, fell to the ground with a single arrow protruding from its back. He knew he had to end this quickly.

The mounted archers resumed their shooting while the swordsmen got up again. He only had to worry about his face so that’s where he kept the sword. One manling tried to stop him but was promptly run through. The last two latched on to a shoulder each, wishing him a thousand illnesses. The archers were still shooting so he turned his side on him. One arrow to the back of the head was enough to get one of the little critters off him. The last one held on while hacking away at his purple suit. His skin underneath would soon become a darker shade but the fabric held. He grabbed the manling by its neck and threw it to the ground before plunging his sword into it.

The last two, the archers, circled him on their mounts while firing their arrows. They kept a wide enough birth so it was impossible to reach and they kept adjusting the distance to ensure he wouldn’t. He spun around and aimed the sword at the manling. A bolt of sparks shot from the tip. The manling screeched and toppled from the boar. The wild animal grunted as it fled. The last manling was thinking about retreating but hesitated for one moment too long. The sword ran through its chest. It too fell to the ground and its boar ran away as well.

Lars went up to the bear. It was looking back at him with its kind eyes. A slight whimper escaped it. “I’ll be with you… just hold on a minute. I’m not as young as I used to be.” He wiped his brow before wrapping both hands around the shaft. With one mighty yank the arrow came free. The bear yelped but hardly any blood came from the wound. The arrow had fortunately not penetrated deep. The bear took a moment to lick Lars’ face.

“All right, that’s enough,” he laughed and tried to push its face away from his. “Please, this is not how bears are supposed to act. Though I guess you’re no ordinary bear, huh?”

The Good Beast grunted and began shuffling forwards. It took them a while to get back to the stone as slow as the bear was. The sky had coalesced into a permanent grey/black mass, angrily writhing and twisting. Freeing the sun had only released its warmth. Its enlightening rays remained locked away. The Good Beast simply sat down next to the stone and bared its jaws in a wide yawn. “You have returned the Gift of the Beasts,” the voice called out. “Once again, the good beasts will help the Skaal when they are hungry, clothe them when they are cold, and protect them in times of need.”

Lars waited till the echoes from the All-Maker had died down inside his head before taking out his map. One last task; one last ritual to complete before finishing his pilgrimage. The thought warmed him inside. Though it could as well have been the burning sun on his brow. It glimmered faintly through the layers of dark clouds, like the light at the end of a tunnel. He travelled further up the river at a much quicker pace without the lumbering bear.

The river came down the distant mountains and forked off. One branch travelled down to the lake he had just visited, the other swung past the colony and ultimately carved through Equestria. The Wind Stone was located on the western shore of the western branching river. The large pillar rose majestically into the air with swirls etched into it. Lars touched the sign and immediately felt a gentle breeze coming from the stone. It glowed and with it came the voice in his ears. “Travel south and east of the lake of ice,” the voice said to him. “Find the Greedy Man and release the Wind from its captivity.”

He stared at the stone for a few moments longer. Was it really the All-Maker speaking to him? The voice was familiar, as if speaking beyond the mists of memories. Was he being deceived or was he merely deceiving himself? The last task would soon prove that. Down the river he walked, back towards the large lake he had seen earlier, and climbed over a ridge.

Against the naked rock leant a square house made from thick sheets of stone heaped on top of each other. A few steps led up to the round door that pushed inwards like all the rest he had encountered. He steeled himself for the labyrinth that awaited inside, but instead he found only a small room. A large pillar took up most of the space. He stepped down to the ground floor. As his eyes got used to the semidarkness, shapes began to form. Then came the howls.

A single draug skulked towards him. It was not alone. A wolf stalked around the undead man, but there was very little flesh to be found on its exposed bones. It was not alive either. Even without eyes it could still find him. Maybe because its nose was still largely intact. The strange mixture of completely bared bones and fleshy parts gave it an appearance that made the hairs on Lars’ arm stand on end. His sword sparked to life. The bone wolf sprang into action. The sword flashed through the air and sank into the exposed skull. The draug came closer as well. Lars tried to wrest the sword free, but it was stuck in the wolf. Its bones were hard like crystal. The sword groaned and creaked as he finally pulled it out.

The draug was no longer alone. Several more of its kin, with their skin hanging on their bones, shuffled towards him. Grinning, with eyes flashing like red orbs. His sword flickered erratically. He dared not voice his dismay, but he knew. The sword would not last much longer if he continued to bang it against what was effectively stone. Yet what choice did he have? He was pushed back up the stairs and frantically hacked left right. Bone wolves snapped at his arms. The draugr swung their bony fists at him.

Another bone wolf fell to the ground, and then another, making room for three draugr to get at him. His sword nearly decapitated one, broke a second one’s legs and finally got stuck in the third’s ribcage. He lost count of the glowing eyes and snarls that still came at him. Then it finally happened. The sword gave out. He could not free it from the draug and then lost his grip on the hilt. The undead fell away into unseen sea of hands that grabbed at him and teeth wanting to sink into him.

He pushed against the door but found it locked. He was trapped, with no weapon to defend himself, and several more enemies vying for his life. His feet clinked against something. It was hard as stone. He stooped to pick it up as another wolf sprang at him. There was no time to think. He grabbed the something and bashed the wolf over the head. Its skull splintered. He pressed forward down the platform again, swinging the unknown implement left and right. The draugr fell before him more easily than he could have imagined. Their bones pulverised before his new weapon. Only when he was done, his enemies motionless before him, did he realised what he held in his hands. It was the leg of a draug. He panted and sweated as he threw it away in disgust.

Past the small room was another chamber. The bodies of dead ponies were preserved in the same ice as he had encountered before. The level of their preservation was beyond compare. Not a single flaw or blemish could be spotted on them anywhere. Only those who had died in combat sported any wounds. They could have died hundreds of years ago, it would be impossible to determine at a glance. He only paused to admire them for a moment. Again he was struck with wonder and made a mental note to enquire about it. His goal lay at the end, up against one of the ice caskets.

He took the rather innocuous, even shabby-looking, bag of a course material into his hands and pulled the drawstring. Immediately his face was assaulted by a strong wind. He staggered and lost the bag from his hands. It fell to the ground where it slid across the floor of its volition, like a firework rocket aimed vertically. He had not even gotten his bearings back when the voice came to him.

“Well done, my friend. Thanks to you, the ultimate banishment of King Sombra has drawn a little closer. His curse on the land has now been lifted.” The room exploded with light. For the second time in mere moments, Lars was pushed back by some otherworldly force and again he clutched his face as he staggered back.

It was the same voice that had spoken to him before, the voice of the All-Maker. But the dread familiarity that had previously haunted him came washing over him. He did not need to open his eyes to see who was speaking. “Butterscotch…” he mumbled and unsteadily walked towards the voice. “What the Hell are you doing here?”

The chuckle that followed was mirthful and yet deprived of any worldly reason. “Disguising a voice is a simple enough task. Now, making you forget it is just another way of entertaining myself!” Lars pried his lids open and saw the encapsulated pony float towards him. The bubble still contained him. “It was quite entertaining to watch you flounder all around the wasteland like this.”

Lars spat on the floor and rubbed the last spots out of his eyes. “You would use these ponies’ superstition just to entertain yourself and waste my time?” he replied angrily.

Butterscotch shook his head and floated around the room. The bubble was squeezed tightly around him. It was a wonder he hadn’t been squashed completely yet. “I have a certain interest in seeing King Sombra tripped up. For this reason I would employ you, the Skaal and even the fort if necessary.” His eyes turned as his neck was too confined to move. “Do not mistake me. Your actions today and yesterday have not been in vain. You have weakened King Sombra but his spirit is still nursing its wounds somewhere. There is no time to slack off.”

The light from the bubble cast off against the ice coffins and sparkled brightly. Strange shapes danced on all the surfaces and across Lars’ face. He held up a hand to shield his already sore eyes. “What is your connection with the Skaal? I know you made the draugr but how deep is your hoof in the things that are happening?”

Butterscotch chuckled, a scoffing sort of laughter. “I have no obligation to indulge you, my friend. Perhaps when you have been a good little human and performed some more tasks I will. Until then, you could always ask the Skaal. I am sure they would be happy to tell you their legends. Did you even think to ask?”

Lars swiped the air with his hand in angered dismissal. “I was going to once this was over. You don’t tell me what to do.”

But Butterscotch was already fading away. With him he took the light and darkness reclaimed the small chamber. Lars muttered several curses under his breath. Once again he had been led around by the nose. Butterscotch always had a way to get people to do his bidding without them realising.

He returned to the land outside. It was changed as if with a stroke of magic. No longer did dark clouds claim the sky. The Sun was up there and smiling down at him. A brisk wind blew and together the two forces fought. The end result was a bearable cold that felt fresh against his face and warm against his skin.

Even the Skaal in the village had come out. Foals played warriors in the street and ran around his legs as if he was a dangerous beast. Only their mothers coming out in a timely fashion allowed him to carry on. On any other day he might even have indulged them. But he was weary and sore and above all in a foul mood. He ripped open the door to the shaman’s hut.

The shaman sat by the fire, warming himself with hooves outstretched. Curiously, he looked up. “Outlander, you have succeeded in your task. The heavy blanket of evil has been lifted and power again surges up in the Skaal. Why do you look so broody?” he asked as Lars found a seat on the bench opposite him.

“For two days I roamed this frozen wasteland in search of your pillars and activating them. I’ve been beaten, bitten and drenched. On top of that my sword broke and… and who is this All-Maker?”

“Why, the All-Maker is the creator of all you can see. The sun, the wind, the land… once all his attributes are in balance no harm can come to the Skaal.”

“Hm. Let me ask you something else then.” Lars put the map and the book down next to him, staring fixed at the shaman. “Have you ever heard of a pony called Swirl the Smart? Squirrelly fellow with silver hair.”

Korst did not reply immediately, instead gazing into the blazing flames. At length he replied, but only hesitantly so. “You speak of the prophet who came to us a thousand years ago when our need was greatest,” he replied, carefully selecting his words as if afraid to insult someone present in the room.

Lars couldn’t help but laugh, expressing all of his pent up frustrations at once with cleansing mirth. “The prophet?” he asked with a sneer. “What did that guy ever do to deserve such reverence?”

But Korst could not see the fun in that. He looked up grimly with shadows running down his weather-beaten face. “When the blizzard first came here the Skaal was nothing but a fractured group of survivors, desperately fighting to survive.” The fire crackled ever so slightly as he took a deep breath. “Our ancestors came from a great civilisation far east of here. Away from it we could not feel its magic and either adapted to this wasteland or froze to death.”

“I mean no offence, but Swirl the Smart is no prophet. He is a trickster only looking out for himself. Whatever you gained from his wiles would merely be side effects. Do you know what he was even doing here?”

The old shaman flushed with colour. Had Lars not completed the pilgrimage, Korst would undoubtedly have thrown him out. Instead he controlled himself to reply. “You speak of the prophet as if you have experience, but that is already a millennium ago. His deeds are legends among our people. How dare you besmirch his name so?”

“I can only imagine how he must have played you,” Lars said with a shake of his head. “I shall not mention him again if you would only tell me some of those legends.”

Korst rose from his seat and wandered into the dark corners of his hut. It sounded to Lars like a lid was opened. “The tales of our prophet are many and richly detailed. It would take longer time than I can spare you to tell it all. It is my hope, however, that by revealing just a little of it all I can make you see his greatness.”

Nothing could possibly cast a manipulative, degenerated trickster in any good light was the first thought that came to Lars’ mind. “I’ll be looking forward to hear it,” he said instead with a hint of sarcasm. That however either went unnoticed or was promptly ignored.

For a few long moments, however, Korst remained absolutely silent with only the crackling of the fire to entertain Lars. The human almost thought about going into the darkness and see what the shaman was up to, but he had barely left the seat before the Korst returned. And not empty-hoofed either. “What do you make of this?” he mumbled and spat out a large mace down into Lars’ waiting lap. Even with his suit on he could feel the cold emanating from it and jolted up. It fell to the floor with a heavy ringing.

“It’s cold. It’s really, really cold. What is that thing made of?”

“Stahlrim. Magic ice. Our prophet taught us how to manipulate it, among other things. He came out of the blizzards and gathered us so we could pool our resources and make a society. And then he disappeared just as quickly again without asking for anything in return. That is the kind of pony Swirl the Smart was.”

“Did he really not ask for anything at all?” Lars held up the mace before him. A beautiful piece of craftsmanship. A chill mist lingered about it. It was short, obviously designed for and by a pony, but it was unbelievably heavy and took both his arms to hold up. The head was small and smooth but with several spikes added to it. “He might not have asked for anything material, but the pony I know is bound to have asked for your help.”

“Well. Yes, he did, but it would only be fair,” Korst admitted begrudgingly and sat down again. “Where your folk have made your mine is where he settled down a thousand years ago. He asked us not to interfere, but as legends go, we insisted on helping him. Not the other way around.”

Lars laid the mace away. Hoarfrost had gathered on his legs where the weapon had been. He brushed it away in an attempt to regain some heat. “Can you tell me what work he put you to?” he asked, his questions more filled with inquisitiveness that spiteful superiority. “I’d imagine it wasn’t picking berries.”

“No, the legends do not speak of berry picking. The legends do not speak much of the work at all. We dug into the ground and helped him settle there. Swirl the Smart often met up with us, however, and made sure our society was running smoothly. He vanished again shortly after he was satisfied we could get by on our own.”

Lars couldn’t help but shake his head again. So Swirl the Smart, master manipulator, had really had a hideout there? His interest in the mine only grew. What could the so-called prophet of the Skaal be hiding in the soil? “I don’t know why he came here, but I intend to find out.” Lars got up and made his way towards the entrance. “Do not believe your legends about him, though. He only helped you to help himself.”

“You are still a stranger to us, so we do not ask you to understand our customs. However, you did complete the pilgrimage, an admirable feat for which you shall be rewarded. It pains me to give it to an outlander, especially one as obstinate as you, but tradition dictates that the mace is yours.”

“What? But I can barely touch that thing without getting frostbite. How will I even lug it around with me?”

For the first time, Korst seemed pleased and picked up the mace by a leather thong tied around the handle. “As long as you are connected with the leather, the cold will not get to you. Tie the strap around your waist and you will be spared its magic.”

Lars gently took the mace from Korst and nearly fell over from the weight. As soon as it was attached around his waist, however, the weight melted away. “That’s amazing. Is there any chance this weapon will talk to me, though?”

Korst looked at Lars confused and slowly shook his head. “No, it’s just a mace, you know. But you can always talk back if the night gets lonely.” His chuckle made Lars’ face red right up to his ears. “Come back tomorrow, outlander, and I am sure our chieftain will have reached a decision about you. I’ll be sure to mention what you did today.”

CHAPTER 3 PART 3: POSTSCRIPT

Lars made his weary way back to the fort but his path had been lightened with the removal of the heavy clouds. Most animals were behaving normally as well and stayed away from him. His newfound weapon proved scarily effective in dealing with the occasional diseased wolf or bear. One swing was usually enough to crush their skulls.

Before returning to the fort, however, Lars had to make one crucial swing around the mine. Not because of any of the information he had prodded from the shaman. He already knew the underground hid something important… and potentially dangerous. Now he was just certain. What he really needed to do was inform Melon of his choice of sides. The long walks had been good for thinking, and Lars had finally reached a decision.

When he came to the colony, it seemed to have grown again. A bustle of ponies milled around and not just workers. Some that could not be anything but tourists were there as well. Probably to witness a small town in the making through their camera lenses. “It wasn’t easy to make my decision but I also had to admit my attachment to Raven Rock. I can’t rightfully put it in the hooves of Trusty Gunner. I’m sticking with you all the way,” Lars said as he located Melon by a water tower by the city edge. Melon tried to be jubilant, but seemed above all stressed out.

“I am pleased to hear that, Lars. Your corporation will make it much easier to run this mine. Oh, but I tell you, there have been so many newcomers I can barely keep track of them all. But we don’t have enough space for everything. I need to build either a trader’s post or a smithy but I can’t have them both. I need you to tell me what to do.”

Like an excited dog, Melon lifted up his hooves to Lars’ chest and looked at him with worried eyes. “Well I don’t know, what do you need most? And what is the consensus around the mine?” he asked in hopes of deflecting the question.

Melon fell down again and sighed. “That’s the problem. We could use both facilities which is why I’m in a pickle. As for the consensus, I think the ponies are more hoping for a trader’s post but what if we would really need a smithy? For tools maybe?”

Lars couldn’t help but smile. It was nice with much simpler problems to attend to. “Then just use the armoury at the fort. You have a boat now and it’s only Trusty Gunner you have to worry about. It’s not like that guy runs Fort Frostmoth.”

Melon lit up and laughed deeply, before embracing Lars’ legs. “What would I do without you? I feel all ashamed at having gone to you for such a small problem. Hmm… I know this wasn’t an official job or anything but I think I could still…” Mostly mumbling to himself, Melon reached into his fine doublet and took a notepad where he scrawled a few signs. The writing had the faint appearance of Latin letters but was mostly just a jumbled mess. Lars had never put himself into the written language of ponies as he could find no consistency to their texts. “There. It’s not much but should help you with any expenses you might encounter over the next few days.”

With the note in his pocket, Lars returned to the fort. Trusty Gunner was not happy to hear about the decision and begrudgingly rewarded Lars with three hundred gold pieces for the service. Not even the mention of a new trader’s post cheered him up any. Satisfied and tired, Lars retired to his bunk bed for the night. Tomorrow he would find the Skaal Village and talk with their leader again, whether Tharsten wanted to or not.

Chapter 4: Trials, Tests and Thieves

I passed the Test of Wisdom, hopefully earning me the trust of the Skaal. It had better. I ran myself ragged going all over the Frozen Wasteland looking for pillars and following the instruction given to me. And then at the end I just found Butterscotch pulling on the strings. Even after banishing him to a small bubble at the bottom of the ocean he plagues my waking hours. I already knew he was connected to my quest here, but I had no idea it would be so profound. I must prod the Skaal for more information about him. King Sombra is also related to this somehow. Meanwhile I have chosen Melon between him and Trusty Gunner. There is just something off about the latter.

CHAPTER 4 PART 1: SUPPLY ROUTE PROBLEMS

The first thing Lars did that morning was taking the ship to Raven Rock to check up on the mine. They had not made much progress with the dig lately due to various problems and the focus on expanding the colony. But just the small scrape they had made into the soil had turned out unbelievable chunks of highly valuable ore. As he arrived on the dedicated wooden pier, he got a taste of the bustle. Several ships were moored to the pier. Sailor ponies of all races and some even with shirts on wandered around with sacks over their shoulders.

Raven Rock had become so much more than a simple mine. A small town had been erected with private homes, a pub, a trader’s post and several other necessary amenities. Most prominent of all the buildings was the large timber shack sheltering the mine entrance. Like clockwork the miners either entered with their tools or exited with their bounty.

Melon, the project leader and wearing a fine doublet as always, with his pale orange mane combed back, smiled wearily as he observed the busy work of the colony. He stood like usual in the middle of everything, keeping close to the mine shed. Lars ascended the shallow incline from the harbour and up into the town proper.

“You look tired as always. Don’t tell me you’ve run into more problems?” Lars asked when he had gotten sufficiently close.

Melon turned around, his face lighting up when he saw the human coming towards him. “You have a habit of coming at opportune times, Lars.” His smile wilted however upon reflection of Lars’ words. “Yes… more problems, I’m afraid. This mine is almost more trouble than it’s worth. But we’re making a lot of ponies happy back in Equestria. That’s got to count for something?”

“That’s the most important thing. Well, I just had a feeling it would be best to swing by. So what is it this time?” Lars asked with fervour, eager to eliminate any problem in his way.

“Well… this is embarrassing, but we were on a tight budget when we started out. That’s not the embarrassing part, mind you, but some of our contractors were, hmm, shady? It’s what we could get at the time but they’ve worked well for us even after we got cash. But now the steed we hired to sail the ebony ore to Equestria has caught on to our income and asks a, quite frankly, ludicrous pay to do his job. Could you have a talk with Rockin’? He should be down by the docks, holding our shipments ransom.”

The light from the newly released Sun allowed Lars to see Melon properly for the first time in a while. He was a large pony but with kind features aged too quickly from worry and stress. Sympathy welled up in the human who could appear brusque at times as well. “Of course. I’ll see to it right away,” he said with a nod and went back towards the harbour. The smallness of it allowed only two ships to anchor. The one he had come in had already departed again with fresh passengers.

Many ponies bustled around the wooden wharf, chatting lively or carrying heavy burdens on their backs. Asking around got him directed down the coastline where another ship was held up. Rockin’ was still right there on the gangway, lounging at the entrance to his ship with a sour expression pasted on his face and hoofs behind his neck.

The other ponies avoided him, mostly from the scowls he sent him. His ship was otherwise stocked up and ready to sail. Instead it bobbed gently up and down, secured to the pier with rope. Lars had to pause for a moment when he saw the captain. It was like looking at a younger Butterscotch, with darker colours of purple for coat and grey for hair tied behind him. Rockin’ was starting to notice the human stare at him, so Lars shook the image out of his mind. “Excuse me, but would you happen to be Captain Rockin’?”

“Spare me any drivel,” he sneered and got up on his hooves. “You’re here to tell me I need to get back to work, but it ain’t happening. Not for this measly wage.”

“Raven Rock has gotten quite profitable, but there are also many expenses,” Lars said, feeling his tone unconsciously harden. “You might be able to negotiate for a higher wage, but you can’t ask for ridiculous prices. Please just go back to work.”

“What if I won’t?” Rockin’ countered and sat down on the gangway with a recalcitrant mien. “My good friend Yellow Flourish hasn’t been switching with me at all the last couple of days, so I’ve been pulling all the shifts. Hardly had any time to relax or have fun. So I’m not moving until you get me a raise.”

“So just because your friend bailed on you, you’re just going to sit here like a spoiled brat?” Lars retorted.

Needless to say, the physically impressive and mean-looking pony did not take the harsh words well. Rockin’ knitted his brow into a glare and slammed his hoofs in the gangway. “While that bastard is off drinking cider in Canterlot and warming his hoofs under a mare’s sheets, I’m stuck here freezing my ears off, shuttling between Equestria and this frozen wasteland. I demand some restitution, you dig? I ain’t going to move until I see it.”

However much Lars would have wanted to continue the discussion, Rockin’ went back inside his ship. Lars snorted and returned to Melon who was still pacing around the colony nervously. His face lit up when he saw Lars again, but the light diminished upon seeing the human’s dissatisfied face. “No luck, then?” Melon asked crestfallen.

Lars shook his head and kicked a pebble across the ground. “No, that pony is stubborn as a mule. And I think I might know where he got it from. But ancestry aside, it seems he’s dissatisfied with his friend bailing on him. Yellow Flourish, I think he called him.”

Melon gasped and put a hoof to his mouth. “Oh dear. I guess he hasn’t heard then…”

Lars looked up from his gloom with curiosity in his eyes. “Heard what?”

Melon turned away and looked up at an almost clear sky where only small tufts of white disturbed the solid blue. “Yellow Flourish is dead. He was the captain of the shipwreck you investigated a few days ago. But perhaps we can use that… you should go see Spring Darling, the only survivor of that shipwreck. She might be able to tell you something we can use.”

“I remember. Lots of undead. I’ll look into it, don’t worry.” Lars put his right fist under his chin.

Spring Darling was a strong mare that Lars had rescued from the clutches of the draugr. She had since become part of the colony, roaming around and barking orders at the miners. In some strange way it might have been her way of flirting with them. Or perhaps she had become genuinely interested in the wellbeing of the colony. If that was not her intent for coming to the Frozen North to begin with. With her bright orange coat and thick dark olive mane blowing freely in the wind, she was easy enough to recognise. “Huh?” she called out when she saw Lars, before cracking a mischievously delighted grin. “The human from before! I never got to thank you properly for escorting me here. It’s a really nice colony, but all the stallions are slouches compared to what I’m used to.”

Lars scratched his neck. Her forthcoming nature was as off-putting as always. She did have a certain charm to her and her face wasn’t the worst, but her daring personality was scaring most of the steeds away. They certainly found very interesting spots on the ground as they passed her, even with her back turned to them. Even Lars could barely look into her eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that. Listen, I was wondering–”

But Spring Darling had gotten near and was suddenly looking him up and down. Lars had no choice but to put out his arms in instinctive defence, too high to touch her. “You’re not looking half-bad for a weird creature from another dimension. Ever dated a pony before?”

“Now listen to me!” he exclaimed with colour flushing his cheeks.

Spring Darling giggled like a foal and enticingly turned her back on him again. “You’re blushing, Lars Leland. But think it over, won’t you?” She looked over her shoulder and winked at him, before turning her front towards him again. “So what can I help you with?”

“It’s about Rockin’ and what I can understand to be unreasonable demands from his side. He had some connection with your ship’s captain, Yellow Flourish. I was hoping you could tell me something, anything, to use as leverage against him,” he asked with cheeks still burning and his voice impatient. Spring Darling hung her head.

“Rockin’ and I come from the same village, so I know he can be a real hothead. He probably also told you that he hates Yellow Flourish for disappearing, but he adored that unicorn like a hero. That’s why I told him he had put me off here and gone back to Canterlot. But I suppose it’s time he knew the truth, before he’ll cost this colony any money with his stunts.”

“How do I do that? Can’t you tell him?” Lars asked more soberly, seeing a softer side to Spring Darling. She looked up with a rueful smile on her face.

“He wouldn’t want to see me after lying to him. He’ll probably come around again, but until then, I think it’s best we kept some distance. Wait here, you’ll never convince Rockin’ without it,” she said mysteriously and sped off into the colony. She returned only moments later with a sheathed sword in her mouth. The guard on the hilt was wide enough to fit a hoof inside. A sabre. “This belonged to Yellow Flourish. I couldn’t let those filthy draugr despoil it so I snatched it before fleeing. He would never part with it unless in death. Rockin’ will believe you with this.”

“T-thank you. I’ll take good care of it, Miss Darling. Don’t you worry.”

With the sabre in hand, Lars returned to the docks and went down the boardwalk to the ship. Rockin’ peered over the railing. His eyes were defiant, like a grouchy boy thinking himself safe in his tree house, but he caught sight of the sabre. At least to examine the sword he came down the gangway, but Lars kept it out of reach for the pony.

“That sword… where did get it?”

Lars held it out so Rockin’ could see the shape of the sabre. It was otherwise unassuming but a certain name was etched into the steel. As Lars took his time responding and also kept the sword so high out of reach, Rockin’ angrily pounded his hoof into the ground. “You know whose sword this, and how I would have gotten it.” Lars relaxed his arm so the sabre rested his against his leg. The revelation made Rockin’ swallow a lump. “Your friend… your hero never abandoned you. He died when his ship ran aground and was stormed by monsters.”

Rockin’ reached out for the sabre, but did nothing to demand it back. His face had become ashen and a solemn expression covered it. “May I have it?” he asked in a low voice that left no doubts he would take it by force, if courtesy failed. “Please?”

Lars sheathed the sword again. The scabbard was just a worn leather pouch with a piece of string for hooking it around a pony’s shoulder. “You may, if you promise to stand down.” Rockin’ nodded, so Lars carefully helped it over his head and under his hoof. “My deepest apologies.”

“No, it’s quite all right. Perhaps this will remind me to stay true to my heart. The seas are my home, and I am not doing this to get rich. Thank you.”

Rockin’ went back on board with the sabre dangling around his neck. The sails were soon set and the ship away for Equestria. Lars went back up to the colony where Melon anxiously awaited him, but the human’s smile flooded elation into Melon’s cheeks. A leather purse hung from his mouth. With a jerk of his head, the pouch flew through the air. Lars barely caught it. “You can’t keep rewarding me like this. My suit will get too heavy to move.”

“Nonsense,” Melon grinned, all his troubles disappearing from face. “It would not feel right to let you go without a reward for all the hard work you do around here.”

Lars weighed the pouch in his hand, throwing it gently up and grabbing it again. All the coins inside jingled and jangled. “I appreciate it. I have no had this much money between my fingers since… for a long time. Just as long as I’m not taking funds away from the mine.” He put it away, into one of his seamless pockets, and the pouch was gone.

Melon sighed almost melancholically. “And so I suppose you must leave us again? You could help us even more if you would stay longer,” he suggested, but Lars shook his head.

The ship was already far down the river. Its masts disappeared around a bend with the accompaniment of a bird choir. “This is truly a majestic place, I must admit, but I cannot allow myself to rest here. There is still a great evil residing in this land, and I have an old acquaintance to take care of as well. Perhaps when my journey is over I will settle here.” He looked wistfully up into the sun. Its harsh rays beat down on the land below and warmed his skin. A gentle breeze came and ruffled Melon’s fur and played with Lars’ thinning, corn blonde hair.

CHAPTER 4 PART 2: TEST OF STRENGTH

Life had once again returned to Skaal Villager after his Test of Wisdom, and the renewal of their sacred pillars. It was as if a dark cloud had never threatened to crush them at all. But still, it was only foals and mares out. There was not even a glimpse to be made of any males. Only a few guard ponies spread around the village and mostly in front of the Greathall.

Inside roared a large fire in a pit in the middle of the room. Most of the town’s steeds were gathered there in the large timber building, but not for the drinking and parties one would otherwise associate the place with. Rather, they were discussing heavily, and silence fell on the room as soon as Lars entered. Some of the stallions stared at him, others frowned. Only Heart-Fang, the village leader, seemed to have genuine interest in Lars’ intrusion. He beamed as he got up from his wooden seat and descended the stone dais to the ground floor.

“Lars Leland, we were just discussing you. Or should I say, we were just finishing up discussing you.” Lars came to stand before the pony. He was younger than most of the ponies around him but the dents and scratches to his armour proved for all to see that he had earned his position of their leader. “It is good that you should come at this time. Your passing of our Test of Wisdom has left us in awe, but there is still one more test you will have to take before we can claim you as one of our own.”

“I might have suspected as much.” Lars looked out into the room. None of the ponies yielded to his gaze and stared back at him. “But the last test already left me drained. What more do you expect of this old man?”

“You certainly look much different to us ponies, Lars Leland, but some things are shared between races, it seems.” Heart-Fang took a walk around Lars, looking him up and down. “Your voice is unfaltering and certain like that of a warrior’s. Your face is scarcely marked by the lines of age. I’d say you are older than me, but not by much more than a decade or two.”

“That still doesn’t make me young. It’s taking me longer to recover from strenuous exercises.”

Heart-Fang again paused in front of Lars and nodded approvingly of what he saw. “You bear the Mace of Aevar Stone-Singer well. His spirit is upon you and sharing your burden. Two great warriors from opposite ends of time and of different races, helping each other with a common goal. The securement of the Skaal.” Heart-Fang sat back up on his throne and observed Lars from on high. “And now, if you would please, another trial awaits you.”

“Before we proceed with this otherwise flattering meeting, I would wish that my previous success merited me a few questions.”

“Of course, but I hear that you have already conferred with my shaman. You will be working with him again. There will be time enough for questions afterwards.”

Lars grunted, but resignedly let go of a deep breath and looked up to Heart-Fang. “So, what must I do this time to please you?” he asked, earning him stern glances from some of the gathered ponies at the sides. “Any more pillars you want me to activate?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Heart-Fang ensured and waved his hoof, leaning forward in his seat. “Compared to the last test, this one will be a little easier. It will test your strength. But Korst is the one to speak to. I believe he is preparing for the test by Lake Fjalding’s northern side. That would be the big lake south of here.”

So once again, Lars set out for new adventures, unknowing about the excitement that awaited him ahead. He could see flashes of light against the sky. Crossing a dune, a large fire in the middle of the frozen lake came into view. The flames seemed supernatural and wispy as they roiled up towards the sky. The ice around it was unaffected despite the intense heat that kept Lars warm just from the shore.

“Peculiar, isn’t it?”

Korst suddenly stood next to Lars, who had been too enraptured by the flames to notice anything else. He looked down and saw the shaman also staring into the flames, but his face was one of deep worry, not curiosity. “It is. What’s going on here?” Lars asked, not sure whether to focus on the fire or on Korst.

“Your next test lies before you. This strange fire appeared suddenly during the night and no one can explain it. Of course, there are theories,” Korst said with a scoff.

“Theories?”

Korst nodded solemnly. “Yes. Tharsten Heart-Fang believes it to be the work of a draug lord sealed in the lake, but…” Korst swallowed a heavy lump in his throat. Fear, for the first time, trickled down his brow. “I believe this is much worse. Much, much worse.”

Lars bowed and glanced sideways at the shaman. “Well spit it out already. What’s so bad to get your tongue in a bind?”

Korst did not reply at first and instead wandered around the lakeside, sometimes looking up and sounding like talking, but always bowing his head again. At length he summoned his courage by taking a deep breath of air. “Our prophet foretold of this, of everything. He said that the great evil which drove us together would come to split us apart again. The evil that you call King Sombra.”

Lars couldn’t stifle a slight chuckle at this, not at the shaman’s obvious plight, but at the absurdity of his words. “King Sombra? He’s already been taken care of by the wielders of the elements. With all your pillars activated again, what threat could he possibly pose?”

“Do you understand nothing, you fool?” Korst retorted with wild eyes. He realised his own outburst and continued in a more calmed voice. “Everything so far has gone to prophecy. Our Stones becoming inert, werewolf attacks and now this. It will only be a matter of time before King Sombra awakens again. His defeat was merely a delay.”

“So what would you have me do?” Lars asked; all traces of mirth gone from his speech and replaced with a seriousness that befitted the situation. “I don’t exactly know where to go to defeat King Sombra.”

“That is another matter entirely. Some day you will stand before the Evil King. If you win, an era of peace will be secured forever. If you fail, this land, indeed, the whole world will plunge into a darkness which you could never even imagine. For now you must get to the source of this pyre… somewhere below the lake.”

Lars tiptoed closer to the water’s edge. The fire was making it bearable but ice still somehow floated lazily on the surface, like nothing was going on at all. Same could be said about the strange creatures he had seen before, the sea lion-looking animals with the weird mouths. “So I just need to dive into this lake? Looking for what, exactly?”

“You should find a cave at the bottom, somewhere near the centre. Close to the fire, I believe. The quicker you can stop this menace, the better. I do not like to have this fire burning. It feels like a beacon for all things wicked and foul.”

Lars dipped one foot into the lake. Water seeped over the edge of his golden boots, like the gentle touch of a woman’s hand. Further and further he walked into the lake until he was waist deep. He turned around and saw Korst in his leather robe, sitting on the shore, the flames illuminating a much older and tired face than usual. “I will not be long. I’ll find the cause of this and put an end to it.”

He could not breathe, like when he had followed the Swimmer, but he didn’t need even a minute to find his destination. The fire was coming from a hole in the lake floor and flowing unhindered. It got warmer as he got nearer but never unbearable. It truly was a beacon. Not fire for fire’s sake, but a signal… or perhaps a symptom.

The caves themselves had air trapped inside. Lars slipped inside through a hole in the side and breached the surface before he found himself choking. The snow crunched under his dripping frame, but the fire was nowhere to be seen. It had to be coming from somewhere else within the caves. So Lars began his walk through the tunnels.

Draugr infested the place but tasted his new mace in response. Their crystallised bones snapped like twigs at his swipes. They had been rendered ineffective to stop him. Only their companions, the bone wolf, proved a challenge. Mainly in their speed and ferocity. They snapped at him and quickly fell back and resumed their tactic all over again. The heavy mace left a trail of ice crystals as it flew through the air. The bone wolves similarly went flying.

He almost missed the side tunnel. Ice had grown thick on its sides and nearly barred the way. Lars could just barely squeeze through. On the other side, the ice had likewise reclaimed most of the corridors and rooms. There was very little snow: the floor was mostly just the naked ice. Icicles rattled overhead. At several points the cave thinned so Lars was afraid he would get stuck, and at other points the ice had formed little rooms with bones frozen inside. He tried not to think of it, rubbing his arms as he passed it.

The last room opened up so much that it threatened to crush him under its size. The ice covered the floor and made it bumpy and rough. Sparse furniture decorated the room, all of it from rickety wood. A decimated human corpse sat on a chair with hands across the table. An unmoving draug. Lars approached carefully. The draug stirred and turned its head. Lars cried out with the mace above his head. The draug screamed back and raised its arms.

“Please don’t hurt me. I am not like them.”

The mace paused just before hitting the speaking draug’s sunken face. A mist of ice blew into its face. It breathed a sigh of relief and adjusted its rusty cone helmet. Lars did not put the mace away, but it was too heavy for him to support with stretched arms. “You can speak?” he asked incredulously, to which the draug nodded feverishly, undoing his previous helmet adjusting.

“I can also sing and hum and whistle and… well, I can do neither of those things anymore, but that’s not important. You have finally come to help me.”

Lars raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “I didn’t come here to help you. For your information, all the draugr I have met so far have all tried to kill me. What makes you any different?”

“It’s all a little tricky to explain, but I implore you to hear me out before you bash my head in. My name is Aesliip and yes, I am a draug, but I chose to become one. Thus my mind is still intact though my body continues to deteriorate.” The draug rose from his seat, slouching ever so slightly. Even its clothes were almost gone. A loincloth was all that was left of his trousers and a rusted chest plate covered his upper body.

“You chose to become a draug?” Lars’ confusion was only increasing. The mace hung limply from his hand. “Why would anyone ever want to become a draug?”

Aesliip turned his back on Lars. “I didn’t say I wanted to, I said I chose to. I guard a seal that keeps demons from bursting out, but the seal is rapidly weakening. I fear something is interfering with it,” he explained in a heavy voice, hoarse from countless ages spent alone and shrivelling up.

“Say I do believe you,” Lars began, making the draug lord turn around with a hopeful expression on his face. Lars repeated himself to drive the point him before continuing. “If I believe you, do we need to keep these demons sealed away? Couldn’t we just kill them?”

The draug stared nonplussed at Lars, but a wide grin quickly cracked his dried up lips. Laughter sounding like deep rumblings bubbled forth. “I like your initiative, fellow human. Indeed, the seal is done for, and that is not where I need you. I wouldn’t know how to strengthen it anyway.” He waved for Lars to follow him as he shuffled across the cavernous room. “I am sure you have many questions. I’ve been pondering how best to answer them for the last, hmm… for a long time.”

Lars followed behind him and together they went for the unassuming door at the other end of the room. There were doorposts set into the ice and a few wooden boards knocked together with rusting iron bands. “You were expecting me?” he asked in surprise. “Or rather, should I ask how you still retain your sanity?”

There was snow under their feet again. The draug was taller than Lars, but slouched so that their height evened out. “Mine is a tragic story indeed. As for your two questions, they are much related. You see… hmm… a long time ago I was brought here by a pony named Swirl the Smart. I thought myself saved by the destruction of our world and followed his orders gladly. But Celestia did not approve of me. She banished us from Canterlot and so we went far and wide. We came to this frozen wasteland where it seemed we could start out research again. But this land has its own tragic history.” He halted his speech when something stirred in the corridor before them. The very ice itself moved and was given form. A man stood before them but of ice and sparsely wrapped in iron clothing and a chilling mist.

Lars whipped out his mace and held it out before him. The being of frost stared at it him through eyes carved into its face. Spikes grew from on top of his head and spread down his shoulders and arms. “What is that thing?” Lars asked as the frost being stalked closer. Its unmoving face was perhaps the most unnerving thing about it. Its blank expression reflected Lars’ fear.

Aesliip raised his hands. Magic shimmered between his fingers. “That would be why we have a seal, one of nine. Real strong, these frost atronarchs, but I see you have a stahlrim mace. That should be able to help out tremendously.” The draug lord released a ball of fire that glued on to the frost being’s chest.

It was slow to recognise them as threats and was too busy clapping out the fire, like one might with a smoulder sleeve. Lars smashed his mace into its knees. That got its attention as it fell to the ground in surprise. Lars raised the mace again. Its head splintered into tiny fragments. Its body dissolved into a shower of hoarfrost. Not even its metal harness remained afterwards.

“As you can see, I have no weapon, my magic is weak and there are still many more of them. These tunnels slither around under the lake bed. We should move on.” The draug shuffled on. Lars took a moment to gauge the situation. He wiped the sweat from his brow and followed.

There were more of them, and not all of them alone. Two more materialised before Lars could raise any more questions. Aesliip assaulted one with flames, keeping it busy for Lars to attack the other. One swing of the mace to the jaw rattled the head off. The body crumbled into a small flurry of ice flakes. Then, turning to the other, Lars sunk the mace into its back. It howled in pain and likewise crumbled.

Aesliip nodded in appreciation. “Have you met Swirl the Smart before?” the corpse asked, to which Lars confirmed with a nod as he hurried after him. The draug gave a long, weary sigh. “Then it will be no surprise that he tricked me. And after everything that I did for him. This land with its eternal blizzards was the perfect hiding spot for us. Here we continued his experiments in peace. The draugr, like myself, are his creations.”

They came to another room made only of ice. Two more frost atronachs awaited them. The same routine of distraction and punishment quickly felled them. “I gathered as much. The draugr are the desecrated corpses of humans, and Equestria has no humans,” he said as he put the mace back.

“The draugr were his experiments to revive humans. He grew fascinated, fanatic even, about talking with a real live human and gain their technological knowledge. But there was no one alive for him to talk to and I couldn’t be of much help to him. I don’t remember much from before coming here. I fear that the machine he had to leave behind in Canterlot had some disadvantages.” One more frost atronach waited for them back in the corridor. Lars jumped up and latched to its shoulder while pummelling away at its head.

“His installations beneath Canterlot are almost destroyed, but I also saw one under the sea.” The frost atronach exploded into a chill mist. Lars was thrown off and tumbled down the corridor. The draug lord laughed to himself.

“He must have made that factory after he was done here,” Aesliip mused and scratched his chin. “His experiments here were… savage, to say the least. He had magic power beyond comprehension. He tried to make ice replicas of humans and fuse these dolls with the souls of deceased humans stolen from our world. But the ice was a poor medium. The frost atronachs grew wild.”

“And that’s when he sealed them in here?” A seventh frost atronach broke free from the wall it had merged with. Lars nearly dropped his mace in shock. The wild being raised its arms overhead. The draug pelted it with fire that served to drive it back while Lars regained his cool. “But what are you doing down here then?”

“The frost atronarchs are filled with powerful magic. Their existence alone is enough to tear at the seal, but Swirl the Smart could strengthen it by binding my soul and flesh to it. Otherwise the frost atronarchs would break free in an instant.” The draug told its story with monotone voice. It was a tale it had practised for so long that its words were automated, like recounting the life of another. Lars banged the mace into the upper body of the atronach until it too seized living.

They came to a dead-end where a single frost atronarch sat, unmoving, in the snow with bowed head. Suddenly sensing a disturbance, it got up with a roar. It clenched its fists into deadly blocks of ice. It creaked as it laboriously got up. Lars ran ahead before it could get too much movement and pounded it hard with the mace. The frost atronarch fell back against the wall but it did not disappear. Rather it howled angrily. Liquid fire sprayed from the Aesliip’s hands and bathed the frost atronarch. It shook furiously, so blinded with rage that pain became nothing to it. Lars took the chance to beat on its sides. It swiped at him but the suit absorbed the blow. That left an opening for Lars to bash it in the face.

Lars jumped back as the growling frost atronarch fell forward. Before it could reach him, let alone the ground, the ice creature splintered and left only a few small flames smouldering like ash. They too quickly extinguished. “Sneaky bastard. He always has a way of manipulating people into doing what he wants them to.”

They made their way back down the corridor, but they were not headed for the exit. More frost atronarchs still lurked in the cave. There had been side corridors that they had passed. Some were nothing more than large niches. But they had to double back and recheck everything to find what they had missed. “I am ashamed to have called him friend for so long, but saving someone from death tends to inspire benevolent feelings. Especially if you can’t remember what brought you into danger.” The draug dragged his feet. His legs were too stiff to properly lift. “It was near the end of our civilization, you know? Everyone knew they would be dead soon from the Crimson Plague. Authorities simply could not handle the mass of rioters. Unlike you, I had been chosen for the suppression squads.”

“Tell me,” Lars began, but went quiet again with the uncertainty of how to properly ask the question. He wetted his dry lips to gather his thoughts. “Tell me, where there others like me? Others who were frozen down?”

“Are you kidding? Dozens! And Swirl the Smart seems to have gotten his hooves on the lot of you. He scattered the cryogenic receptacles all over Equestria in hopes of reviving one of you. But breaking the sleep cycle, even by force, is virtually impossible. Not even removing the subject from the tanks helped. Let me ask you something in return. Were you told what you would be going through?”

Lars shook his head as they swung down a darker corridor. The ice glowed weaker. “No. I thought we were frozen down to be sent into space. I even had a dream about waking up on board. Everything was so real.” Lars recalled the few weeks he had spent on the imagined spaceship and all the horrible things that had happened. He shivered.

The draug lord put a hand on Lars’ shoulder. “I am truly sorry. I can’t really tell which of us were worse off. You for being deceived and to wake up on a dead planet, or us for dying quickly. Hey, did you know? You were the first that Swirl the Smart brought to Equestria. He used to show me your sleeping pod all the time before we had to flee. ‘There’s a great man sleeping in there, I can feel,’ he would say.”

Lars chuckled at the dubious honour. “Can you tell me if he also brought a pod to this frozen wasteland? There’s someone I’d really like to find.” They reached the end of corridor. Another dead end. However, Lars put up an arm and looked around the dim tunnel suspiciously. “Wait.”

The snow moved in front of them with a tremendous creak. A frost atronach was rising from the floor. They started to back away but another one was already standing behind them.

“If you have any more questions, you must ask them now,” the draug said while warming up his hands. “My life is tied to the seal. Once it disappears, I will go with it.”

Lars thought it through for no more than a second. The same time it took him to be battle-ready with the mace in his hands. “I came here looking for a friend. A man by the name of Ulrich Pendragon. I believe he was frozen down along with me.”

Aesliip did not reply at first. The frost atronach was not immediately affected by his fire and it took everything that his stiff limbs had to avoid getting pounded into a fine paste. “I do not know the names of those we found, but there was a problem with the one we transported here.” The frost atronach smashed its fist into the wall where Aesliip had his head only moments earlier. Ice broke from the ceiling and rained down on them. “Swirl the Smart grew tired of waiting and tried to resuscitate the man. He had almost had everything figured out by the time we broke him free from his cage. But then we realised he had also been fed a drug that would keep him sleeping. The pod was only to lower his metabolism and ensure he would not starve as he slept. By breaking him free, we disrupted his life support systems and put him in danger.”

“What… what did you do then?” Lars asked anxiously. His frost atronach was in shambles on the floor and rapidly disappearing. Even Aesliip’s was slowly retreating and yelping in pain. “Don’t tell me you killed him? My whole journey here would be for nothing.”

The draug lord stood still as the frost atronach desperately tried extinguishing itself by clapping the flames licking its body. “It’s time for me to go.” Aesliip looked over his shoulder with a sad smile. The frost atronach was clapping in vain. The fires blazed up. Its iron clothes glowed red hot. Great chunks of the frost being fell from it. “Don’t forget about me now. Boy, I hope the Skaal still remembers me as a hero. I left them without a word.”

“No! Don’t you dare die on me yet, you son of a bitch. Tell me what happened! Tell me!”

Lars ran to Aesliip with all haste, but the dying screams of the frost atronach faded away. The seal that they could not see broke with a loud bang and a blinding flash. Lars took to his eyes too late. He stumbled blindly around the corridor, banging into the walls.

At length his vision returned but it was not an encouraging sight. Aesliip was just a thousand year old, dried up mummy lying in a puddle of water. Lars howled with frustration. He pounded the walls with relentless fury until his hands were sore and the mace slipped from his stinging fingers. “Dammit! Every goddamn time,” he huffed and slid down along the wall. For a long time he simply sat on the cold ground, waiting for his strength to return and his rage to subside. “I swear, if anything happened to that human I’m going to personally seek out Swirl the Smart on the bottom of the ocean and strangle him.”

He put the mace back on its leather thong and made his way back through the tunnels slowly. He was still fuming and mute with smouldering fury. Even the return trip through the water did not quell his bile. Korst sat on the shore where Lars had left him. “It’s done,” Lars mentioned in passing through clenched teeth.

Korst got up, able to see silent storm raging inside the human. He offered no sympathies. A pony of the world, accustomed to dealing with others, knew that there was not much to do or say at the time. Whatever it was that was bothering Lars it would be something only he could deal with. “Take your time, Lars Leland. Meet me at my hut when you’re ready to talk. I have some things I need to prepare first anyway.”

CHAPTER 4 PART 3: TO CATCH A THIEF

The journey across the frozen wastes did him good. Time pushed the memories of what had transpired into past tense and enabled him to process the encounter with Aesliip. They had transported a human to the frozen wasteland and disturbed his sleep process. But what then afterwards? Would Lars enter the ruins of Swirl the Smart’s laboratory only to find nothing? It was not a thought he could bear. Swirl the Smart was a smart cookie. It was almost guaranteed that he had found some way to restore the human or keep him alive. Him? It could be anyone. Lars was feeling more hopeless than angry when he found himself back in Raven Rock.

Following the split between Melon and Trusty Gunner, Lars had been less and less willing to go back to the fort. There was always a chance of running into Trusty Gunner or that rat-faced goon of his. No, Lars did not regret his choice of side. Melon was for once looking genuinely happy and not putting on a brave face despite being stressed out. “I’m looking for a distraction. Got something for me?”

Melon was sitting on a bench outside the inn and enjoyed the fine weather watching all the ponies go about their business. He looked up in surprise to find Lars standing there suddenly. “Lars, it’s a pleasure to meet you! Why you look positively beat. What happened to you?”

Lars looked at his own reflection in the window under which Melon sat. His hair was ruffled and matted with sweat. His face was a mask of sobriety. “It’s nothing, just a bad day at Skaal Village. Do you have a job for me or not?”

“I can’t have something for you every time you show up, you know?” Melon nodded to a group of workers passing by. They smiled back. He looked up to see Lars’ troubled face. “Well… it’s not a big deal, but there has been something bothering me for a while. I just don’t think it to be a job befitting of you.”

“I’ll take anything at this point. I feel in a good mood to crack some skulls.”

Melon looked from side to side before waving Lars closer. Once his face was all the way down to the pony’s twitching ears, Melon resumed the conversation. “All right look, there might be some swindling going on with the mine. Figures that don’t match, you know? What I’m trying to say is, I think someone might be stealing ore and selling it on the side,” he whispered, afraid of anyone listening in.

Lars nodded in understanding. “I see what you mean. Got any suspects?”

Melon took a keychain from inside his doublet and picked out an unassuming iron key with his snout. He bit open the ring and tossed the key to Lars. “I don’t like to suspect any of the colonists. Your job here is to first and foremost clear him of suspicion. Understand, I have given this a lot of thought and I’m doing this only reluctantly, so be inconspicuous until you find the evidence we need. His name is Southern Charge, a unicorn with a great affinity for gems, and he lives just across the street.”

Lars took the spare key and pocketed it, a small smile forming on his lips. “I understand, so don’t worry. What does he look like?”

Another group of workers passed by. With eyes averted, he continued in a lowered voice. “That’s him right there, the dark green one with the harp. Have a look around his hose and leave everything exactly as you found it.”

Lars set to his job, first making sure that Southern Charge, and anypony else, was out of view and then went up to the door. A row of houses were set up against the river but facing away from it. They were typical worker abodes made of simple wood planks and small of size. Likewise, the interior consisted of little more than a bed and some other furniture.

At first glance, there was nothing suspicious to be noted. But since the owner was guaranteed to not return for a while, Lars decided to do more than just stick his head inside. Melon was watching him after all and no telling what somepony might think if they passed by. The entire hut could be viewed with the door shut behind him.

The first thing that caught Lars’ attention was the black dust on the floor. It could have been charcoal from the small hearth but a closer touch revealed it to be stone fragments… particles of ebony ore. Grunting that he had actually found evidence, Lars then had to examine the hut more closely. The ebony dust was mostly just faint drops, perhaps even explainable in a miner’s home, but a chest up against the wall told another story.

Its sides were covered in the dust, as was the unusually heavy lock guarding it. Lars marvelled at the fancy defence mechanism. A simple miner could not afford anything as golden and shiny. There would be no way to open it with proper means, but Lars had brought a heavy mace made of magical ice. First whack and the lock cracked. Second whack and the lock splintered. Third whack and metal-enforced wood was splinters on his boots. Fourth whack, for good measure, rent the lid. It cracked off and revealed… nothing. Lars put his hand down. The bottom was thick with precious dust. He hastily made his retreat with a handful, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

Melon looked up surprised to see Lars walking so nonchalantly where stealth would be a more appropriate tactic. Lars spread the dust out into the air. “I found enough evidence to confirm your suspicion. The guy’s house was loaded with ebony dust. He even had a fancy chest with a really sturdy lock. I’d stake everything he’s your guy.”

“Oh by Celestia, I had hoped it wasn’t him,” Melon said and put a hoof to his temple. “You always suspect the strong surly ones first and then it turns out to be them.”

“What do you want to do with him then?” Lars asked and pounded his mace into his other hand. He stopped that after the first time. His hand nearly turned blue from the cold. He shook it vividly and saved it at the last moment. “I can go apprehend him right now and take him to the fort.”

“On what grounds? Some dust and a mysterious chest?” Melon sighed despairingly and jumped down from the bench. “We need to catch him red-hoofed or he’ll have a chance to weasel out of this, and then we’ll never catch him. Go follow him into the mine, see what he does and catch him stealing.”

Lars put the mace away and wringed his hands together, as if things had been too easy and this was a chance to really unfold himself. “Great. Then I can check out the mine as well.”

The mine entrance was protected by a large wooden shed. Inside, the other ponies from the shift sat around a small table enjoying drinks and food, their pickaxes resting up against the plank walls. They nodded or tipped their helmets at Lars, and he repaid the gesture with a similar one. A wooden door had been built into the rock. The corridor behind steadily slanted downwards. Southern Charge disappeared around a corner at the end of the hallway. Lars crept along the wall, making sure not to be spotted. The dim light from torches and lanterns worked in his favour.

Like angry boils the ebony jutted out of the walls and floor. The black gems were gathered in clusters of rock that had been excavated and unearthed but still protruding from the surfaces. Heavy wooden beams supported the low ceiling clearly meant for creatures lower than Lars. He had to half crouch along the smoothened corridors. Care had been taken into flattening the ground so heavy iron carts could easily be pushed both up and down.

Southern Charge acted like a normal miner for most of the way. Only his constant looking over his shoulders would tip anyone off. Lars quickly vanished into side corridors, hid behind carts or slinked next to outcroppings of ebony. Southern Charge was made none the wiser and carried on. After the last swing, however, he began to sneak and furtively crept into a large room.

Lars leant up against the outside wall and peeked in. It was a storeroom with wooden racks built up along the walls and many, many wooden crates on each shelf. Southern Charge took one last glance before directing his full attention towards his task ahead. Lars walked up from behind.

Southern Charge lifted one of the crates with his magic enveloped around it. Lars cleared his throat and the crate fell to the ground. The lid came off and several chunks of ebony spilled out. “What are you doing in here?” he asked and closed the distance between them. “And don’t tell me you were just checking inventory.”

“I’m a miner. This is a mine.”

Southern Charge was remarkably calm and unfazed about being caught. Lars looked around them. “No, this is a restricted area.” Lars rested his hand on the handle of his mace by his hip. “As you said yourself, you’re a miner. There are specific ponies that take care of the storeroom.”

“Well then, I just got lost.”

“Likely story. Tell me why you’re doing this and I will consider being lenient with you.”

Southern Charge tried pushing Lars aside but the human had a good grip on the freezing Stahlrim mace. Southern Charge jolted from the chill before he could even touch the mace and jumped back. His eyes hardened and his teeth gritted. “Please, he’s got my family.”

“See, now we’re getting somewhere. Who threatened you?” Lars said while swinging his mace around.

Southern Charge then tried giving him a wide birth but Lars put him back into his place. “He’ll kill me if I tell you,” he replied while trying to wrest his arm away from Lars.

Lars gave his sweating, shivering face a long look and then released him. “All right, then you can just nod. Were you set up by Trusty Gunner?” he asked with a cold, murderous voice.

At first Southern Charge was silent. His face was a roiling storm of emotions. Countless options were weighed under anxious sweating. He wetted his parched lips and finally nodded ever so slightly. “So what happens now?” he asked with a quavering voice.

Lars looked contemplatively back at the door. “If you care about your family at all, you will remain here until we sort this out, you got that?” He was very insistent in his tone. Though Southern Charge looked willing to object, he also knew he had gone too far. There was no protesting now. Lars trustingly left the store room and closed the door behind him. He returned out into the fresh air and located Melon again, recounting every detail.

“Yes, I suppose we expected as much from the beginning. Now we know for certain. With Southern Charge’s testimony we can bring in Trusty Gunner. This mine is running well enough without his sponsorship, anyway. Why don’t you go check up on Trusty Gunner and see what he has to say for himself, eh?”

“With pleasure!” Lars cracked his knuckles and looked southeast toward the fort. “It’s time we made a stand against him and showed we can run things without him.”

Lars boarded the ship back to Fort Frostmoth and kept to fore of the vessel. The wind whipped against his face but it brought a refreshed smile to him. As the fort came closer, however, his face hardened with determination. He jumped off board almost before the gangway could be lowered. His murderous aura repelled anyone in his way. Even inside the fort, guards made space for him. Repairs had not commenced yet and all the rubble still lay where it had fallen.

He marched up to Trusty Gunner’s officer and very nearly burst down the door. It was lucky for the door that it was unlocked. Trusty Gunner stood behind his desk and looked out of the slit in the wall to the frozen wasteland beyond. “You come in such a hurry. Is there anything bothering you, my friend?”

There were a lot of things bothering Lars, each one making him angrier than the last. It wasn’t just the thefts but also his frustrations and doubts that boiled over inside him. Only his utmost restraint kept him nailed to the floor before the desk. “I know you’ve been skimming the ore,” he blurted out and looked around the office. Fine tapestries, exquisite food and drinks all over the desk and his doublet lacquered with fine threads of gold and silver. It was all starting to make sense. “The mine is struggling to keep up revenue and here you sit, stuffing your face.”

Trusty Gunner shook his head and turned around, a sickening smile on his face. “The mine, struggling? My dear friend, you must be misunderstanding something here.” He lifted a beautiful flower with blue and red colours to his lips and plucked off each petal with his teeth, taking his time to chew and swallow. “The mine is a thundering success. The way it continues to expand and all the ore we get from its belly… how can you even begin to say such lies?”

“You don’t feel any shame, do you?” Lars said with hands curled up into fists. His knuckles whitened as he tightened. “Melon keeps up a brave face, that’s just the type of pony he is, but I know the budget is tight. He asked me to choose between a trader shop and smith, because he couldn’t afford both. He had to ask me to take care of a captain with personal problems because he couldn’t afford to hire another one.”

Trusty Gunner simply laughed and flicked the flower back down on his desk. “You know, you are a strange one, my friend. You come in here asking me to confess to wild allegations when you yourself are guilty of hypocrisy.” The confused expression on Lars’ face only made Trusty Gunner smirk harder. “You’re accepting all those fat bonuses from Melon, aren’t you? He’s paying you handsomely for all the little jobs that you do.”

Though he tried, Lars could make no compelling arguments against that. He swayed back and forth angrily, constantly wanting to burst out in a tirade or tear something apart, but at length he calmed himself and directed a trembling finger at Trusty Gunner. “You’re right. I thought the mine was going fine so I accepted the payments. But you know something? I’m going to give them back. I haven’t even used a single bit since I came up here. I can earn my pension some other way,” Lars finally said.

“Well isn’t that charitable of you.” Trusty Gunner sat down behind his desk and sighed deeply. “But, I assure you that you will not have trouble with theft anymore. Moonstone, ah… my assistant, is already on it.”

Lars took a step back, thrown off his game. “What do you mean he’s on it?” he asked nervously, fearing what the answer might be.

Trusty Gunner folded his hoofs on the desk and clopped them together. “You didn’t think I would notice? I am the one sitting with the papers. Melon at best would have a gut feeling for the theft.” A chill breeze blew in from the window and played with his lime green mane. “I noticed the inconsistencies myself just this morning and sent Moonstone out to look into it. I am certain things have already been dealt with.”

A cold that had nothing to do with the wind ran down Lars’ spine. It was quickly replaced with scorching hot anger that heated up his ears. “You... you son of a bitch.” Lars halfway bolted to the door, but he couldn’t get himself to leave it either without reprimanding Trusty Gunner. “That pony had a wife and kids that you yourself threatened if he didn’t cooperate.”

Trusty Gunner wagged his hoof disapprovingly. “Conjectures. A greedy miner caught red-hoofed is likely to say anything.” He leant back in his seat with hoofs behind his head. “If anything happens to him, if he had a little accident, you would have a hard time tracing it back to me or my own. It’s not too late to come work for me again, Lars. I can make life very sweet for you, but I can also make it exceedingly hard. The choice is all yours.”

No longer wishing to dwell and discuss, Lars shot out of the room like a ball from a cannon. He took two steps at a time to get outside as quickly as possible. Walking, even running, would not bring him back to the colony rapidly enough and the ship was still moored to the pier. Despite the captain insisting on waiting for more passengers or goods, Lars threatened him with all sorts of tortures. A man wielding a heavy mace tends to get his will when angered.

The boat touched down on Raven Rock only ten minutes later. Instantly he could feel the change in the air. There were only a few ponies on the docks, and only because they had pressing jobs to attend to. The rest were gathered up by the mine entrance but no one was let in. The crowd parted to allow Lars closer. Melon stood there in the entrance, looking bigger than he ever had, and held the mob away. “I did not expect you back. But I am glad you are here nonetheless; did you get anything from Trusty Gunner?”

“Nothing good, and nothing that we didn’t already know. It’s Southern Charge, isn’t it? He’s dead, right?” Lars asked with a sombre voice to which Melon nodded.

“We don’t know how it happened. The miners say they were dismissed by an authoritative pony.” The miners Lars had passed earlier stood at the fore of the ring and nodded. “Sounds like that lackey Trusty Gunner always drags around with him.”

Lars looked into the mine shack. A shape lay there before the entrance with a white cloth draped around his body. “He’ll get away with it this time. We have no hard evidence to indicate him, and Celestia is too trusting to act on suspicions alone. We can only wait for Trusty Gunner to make a mistake and tolerate his ‘management’ until then.” Lars pressed his way through the throng of ponies. Hopefully a new day would bring fresh answers.

Chapter 5: Brawls, Fights and Survival

My work to establish trust with the Skaal is working; I have endured all the tests they have thrown at me. I have proven my strength and wisdom, and I even met a human like myself. He was bound to a seal that kept Butterscotch’s failed experiments hemmed in. He died, unfortunately, before he could tell me anything consequential. I only know a human is sleeping somewhere deep inside in the mine. Whether alive or dead I still don’t know. Trusty Gunner’s illegal tendencies are also becoming hard to ignore. Not only was he skimming ore, he had his contact killed before he could expose him. I’ve been renting a room above the tavern to avoid accidentally running in him. Melon insisted I stay for free. It was the only way I could get him to take my wages back.

CHAPTER 5 PART 1: BAR BRAWL

It was early, but Lars was still trying to get comfortable. The room was sparsely and primitively furnished. Still, it kept the winds away and the bed was soft enough. He had almost fallen back asleep when a knock interrupted him. He swore under his breath before turning over.

“Who is it?” he yawned. “That you, Melon?”

“No. You wouldn’t know me, but I know all about you.”

“Just… just give me a moment, all right?” He swung his feet over the edge and into his golden boots. Drunk with sleep he tottered to the door. An old mare stood on the other side. Her coat was brightly orange and her dark olive mane tied up into short tail. She wore a common robe of dark green and red colours.

“You are the human, Lars Leland. My daughter told me that you are sort of a problem solver around the colony.” She was a no-nonsense pony with business in her eyes and face drawn into a tight mien. “My name is Dream Darling, and I have a problem for you. I can pay you very little, though.”

Lars held the door for her, but she remained in the doorway and flashed a courteous smile for a fraction of second. “Well, I’m not expecting a pay,” he said with a tired chortle. “What’s the problem then?”

“I’m worrying about my husband. He’s been getting drunk and starting fights in this very bar for some time now. I’ve tried asking him why, but he just keeps dismissing me. He has… he has never hit me before. I fear something is wrong with him.” She let a little emotion slip, for just a moment, but gathered herself with a cough and was back again.

Lars scratched his neck uncomfortably. “I’m not sure what you would have me do?” he asked. “I can fight him, but I don’t think that’s going to help any.”

Dream Darling shook her head. “He’s old and sickly. Whatever it is plaguing him, just let him get it out of his system.”

She bowed her head and backed out of the room. Only then did Lars realise he was barechested. He grabbed the sides of the purple suit still covering his legs and stretched it up. The material loosened to cover his arms and breast. The hole remained over his heart. The reminder, as always, made him wince in pain. He had nearly died that day. Just a smidgen to the left and he would be in the other world. He patted the hole. It served him as a reminder to never get cocky or feel safe behind a weapon. That was a lesson especially important with the stahlrim mace secured around his waist. Though powerful, it was not a shield and would never protect him. Only his own skill could do that. He nodded. Breakfast would have to wait.

Downstairs were wooden tables with benches, and simple iron chandeliers with candles. The morning’s first costumers sat around with their breakfast. Among them was an elderly pony slumped over a table. His coat was magenta and his fading mane retained traces of indigo. He was dressed, like his wife, in cheap clothes. His was a dark green shirt secured with a belt and some wool warmers bound around his legs. Dream Darling was talking to him as Lars came down the stairs, and he reached the bottom when her husband brushed her off, yelling.

“Hey! Calm down,” Lars shouted at him.

Unfocused eyes sought the human. Unsure legs supported him as he swung around. A slurry voice replied: “This has nothing to do with you. Go away.”

Still Lars approached him though the old pony gritted his teeth in frustration. His wife remained mutely behind him. “Tell me your name.”

“Phantom… Phantom Darling,” he grumbled and nearly passed out. It was just a belch that had lodged itself in his throat. He passed it silently with a long sigh.

“You want to tell me why you’re making all this trouble when you have a beautiful wife that worries about you?”

“S-shut up! I told you this has nothing to do with you.” Phantom staggered over to Lars and raised his hoof. The resulting impact hit Lars in the abdomen with all the force the old pony could muster. If it hurt him, Lars showed no emotion. “Take that! Eh, you want some more?”

Phantom reared on his hind legs and jabbed Lars several times in the chest with his front hoofs. Lars looked at him unflinching. He allowed Phantom to vent while the other patrons focused intently on their breakfast. The old pony grew tired quickly. Lars grabbed his arms and flipped him on his back. “I told you to calm down,” he said. “Now answer my question. Why are you doing this?”

The old pony wept pathetically and relaxed his limbs, so Lars got up on his feet again. “Do you have any idea what’s it like to grow old and useless? I thought I could come here to live out the rest of my years in peace with my family, but everywhere I turn I’m reminded of how insignificant I am. I can’t even get out of bed by myself. I just want to die so I can stop being a burden to everyone. Now fight me!” he sobbed and writhed on the ground.

“No. You have done your part for this world and you deserve your break. You mustn’t let your work define you or you will never find peace, you understand?” Lars said with heartfelt compassion and hard eyes. There was a similar fear in himself. If not for that, Lars might himself have retired.

Dream Darling approached them. Her husband rolled over so she couldn’t face him. She gave him a contemptuous look before turning to Lars. “Thank you. I don’t know of anyone else I could have asked. I’ll be sure to remind my husband if he ever does anything like this again.”

Lars gave her a reassuring, little smile. “You can always came to me. Take care of him, and yourself.”

She dragged Phantom up on his hooves and nudged him along.

CHAPTER 5 PART 2: THE SIEGE OF THE SKAAL VILLAGE

As he was up anyway, Lars decided to take a trip to the Skaal Village after a solid breakfast of oatmeal and milk. The weather had gotten depressingly cloudy. Not like the heavy blanket before activating the pillars, but more like a sign that it was going to be a dreary day. Perhaps with light precipitation later. Undaunted, Lars braved the wastes and arrived in the village. The ponies greeted him with bows and smiles. They were beginning to hear more and more about his exploits. Versions of his previous adventures circulated orally in the village and got more fantastical for each storyteller. Even those who did not believe the tall tales could see the core of truth and nodded approvingly in his direction.

Even the Greathall greeted Lars with an air of friendliness. The ponies had finally taken to him and the fire burned to dispel his chill. The gathered ponies were still wary of him but accepted his presence. Even the guard by the door had an appreciative smile on his lips and nodded. Indeed, Heart-Fang himself stepped down from his dais to greet Lars. “A great evil that lurked upon our village has been vanquished. For a thousand years it has been a shadow looming over us. Finally we can breathe free,” he said and took a deep gulp of air.

“I may have vanquished one shadow, but the greatest of them all is still threatening the existence of all. I hope you have not forgotten about King Sombra,” Lars said, keeping his tone formal.

The smile faded from Heart-Fang’s face. He nodded. “Indeed, we have not forgotten about the shadow you call King Sombra. We of this village have been searching for him all over the wasteland. We should be close to finding him, if he is still here.”

Lars shifted his weight and knitted his brow. “What do you mean ‘if he’s still here’?” he asked somewhat indignantly. “Where else would he be?”

Heart-Fang returned to his throne up on the dais. “We have already designated King Sombra as a shadow, which might not be too far from the truth. To work the kind of magic he has been doing, one must almost assume he is more spirit than flesh. His hiding spot doesn’t necessarily have to be in this world,” he explained.

The guard pony by the door exited the Greathall as muffled sounds seeped in from outside. The creak of the door distracted Lars for a moment before replying. “I will not dispute that. I mean, the Elements of Harmony did a number on him. Whatever’s left could easily be spirit.”

Heart-Fang beamed from his dais. “I’m glad we reached an agreement then. My shaman is working hard to prove or disprove the theory. Now, for all your services to the Skaal, you will always be welcome here. You have passed all of our tests. There is nothing more we’re going to ask of you. So–” he started, but the guard pony from before re-entered with sweat pouring down his brow.

“W… w… werewolves!”

Heart-Fang jolted up from his seat and pounded his hooves into the stone dais. “What? No, that’s impossible. The elemental stones should be protecting us.”

Lars took the mace from the belt around his waist. “Don’t worry. I have a score to settle with those overgrown mutts, if they’re the same ones who attacked the fort.” The pallid guard pony held the door open, and Lars sped through it. He looked over his shoulder and gave Heart-Fang a thumb up. “Consider this one free of charge.”

The werewolves resembled the wolves of the Frozen Wasteland. They were just much bigger, with fur as dark as the night. Their eyes, red like blood, shone with intelligence and cunning, yet their attacks were savage. They launched themselves with their powerful limbs at the Skaal people. The guards, however, intercepted. They were dressed in greenish tinted metal with spiked pauldrons and helmets, revealing only the foremost part of their faces. Their weapons were long spears with flint tips or swords of finest steel. One werewolf already lay dead on the ground.

Three of them circled Lars from a distance with snarls and grunts. The first one pounced. Its speed took him by surprise. The werewolf latched on to his arm… and bit through his suit! He still had enough room to swing his mace. It sunk into the wolf’s skull between the eyes, and the beast finally released him. Lars looked over his shoulder to see if the guards were in distress, but they had also taken care of one. Lars’ help almost wasn’t needed either. The guards were effective and brutal all on their own.

The last two attacked together. Lars adjusted to their speed and rolled out of the way. He swiped at them, and the spikes on his club scratched the beast deeply. The wounds tried to close, but the frost bloomed around the edges and kept it open. It grunted as the other one leapt at him.

Another sideways sweep. The wolf was caught over the snout and whimpered and backed away. The two werewolves, with their injuries, took a moment to reconsider their strategy. Grabbing the mace with both hands, Lars rushed forward. The second werewolf snapped at his ankles. It couldn’t reach him. He brought the mace down and broke its back with a crunch. The beast lapsed into a heap on the floor, never to move on its own volition again.

One was left. It had an old scar across its eye that burned red. It seemed bigger and more intelligent than any of the other beasts. Its grunts were close to pony speech but amounted to nothing more than infantile babbling. A sense of pity stabbed Lars in his heart, but it was gone as quickly as it came. There was only malice and hatred in the werewolf’s remaining eye.

“It ends here,” Lars said and drummed his fingers around the ice mace. Flakes of snow drifted from the head with the disturbance. “Only one of us will walk out of this alive, and it’s not going to be you.”

The scarred wolf seemed like it understood, growling at him as it paced back and forth before him. It was the mace, reflected in its eyes, that it feared. It understood better than the others what power stahlrim had. Yet it was a werewolf, a creature filled with magic and strength, and it was larger than the others. The guards held themselves back behind Lars. The other werewolves had been taken care of. Just the one left. But even it could turn the situation around alone, if care was not taken.

Lars raised his left hand to halt the guards. He was doing this alone. He approached with slow, sure steps and nervous beads of sweat trailing down his brow. The werewolf remained indecisive. It rocked back and forth, between pouncing and cancelling. Lars got ever closer. The werewolf snapped at the air and finally attacked. Its speed was unprecedented, but not unexpected. At the last minute, Lars crouched down so the wolf flew over him. His mace was held up. The spikes sunk deep into its flesh.

The werewolf landed on the ground and rolled on its side. A gash from head to crotch was frozen in place, the only thing holding its viscera inside. The guards flinched and stared unbelieving at Lars. He sighed deeply and rested the mace head on the ground. There was no time to cheer or question. The door to the Greathall was broken down. A guard staggered out.

“The werewolves… the werewolves, they…” the pony panted. Deep gashes were sunk into his armour and his helmet sat askew. He swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing. “They took the Chief!”

Protest and despairing sighs erupted among the other guards, and the few civilians daring to poke their heads out. Lars put the mace away and calmly entered the Greathall again. The guards inside nursed their wounds and looked around confused. “First King Sombra abducts the guard captain of Fort Frostmoth, and now the Skaal leader. Just what is he planning?” Lars mumbled to himself as he looked out over the chaos.

“I do not know if the curse also works on your kin, but if that wound isn’t treated, you too will turn in three days,” a familiar voice said. Korst took Lars’ left arm into his hooves and forced the human to bend his back. A flap of fabric dangled where a powerful set of jaws had clenched around him.

Lars stared curiously at the wound, as if seeing it for the time. Realisation was slow to enter his mind. His whole arm was smeared with blood. It dripped from his fingers down on the ground. It should be impossible, but his suit had been penetrated. At last the severity dawned on Lars. His face paled and his arm trembled. “Wha… what? But you can do something, right?” he asked with shaky voice.

Korst nodded and let him go again. “Of course. As it is, this is just a simple wound. If you will allow me, I shall cleanse it and dress it. Unless you do want to turn into one of them? I will not force you decision, but you will have no place among the Skaal if you do.” His gaze hardened. Lars stared entranced at the wound. Though painful, it was also warm with power. He could almost feel it whisper in his ears, beckoning him to embrace it. ‘Crystalsssss’

“No. This is not the first time someone asks me to give up the last thing I have left… my humanity. Please, if you will, treat the wound. I will have nothing to do with King Sombra’s evil magic.”

“I will not conceal my emotions; it pleases me that you choose this route. Come with me then.” Korst even hummed as he led Lars back outside. “On another subject matter, did Heart-Fang make you a clan member?”

Lars held around the wound to stop the bleeding. The exertion and blood loss was making him light-headed and it took him a moment, and a shake of the head, to register he had been spoken to. “Uh, no, the werewolves sort of interrupted our conversation,” he replied.

Korst stood before the village. Everyone had come out of their homes since it was safe again. They all looked towards the human with awe and admiration, and a tinge of fear. “Then let me, in the place of our abducted leader, fulfil the gesture.” He turned towards Lars and cleared his throat before speaking so his voice would reach every corner of the village. “I, Korst Wind-Eye, shaman of the Skaal, proclaim you, Lars Leland, an honour member of the Skaal. From now on, there will always be a place for you among us, and you can call yourself Bloodskaal.”

The villagers all cheered. Everyone had heard of Lars’ feats, and many had seen his struggle with the werewolves. The sudden noise rang in his head and shook him out of his stupor. They drowned the whispers of temptation that tore at his attention. ‘Slavesssss.’ He smiled. A new kind of warmth filled his belly and rose to his cheeks. It was appreciation and gratitude. He laughed, with a hand behind his neck. “Now our newest addition must join me in my hut. This is not truly a day of celebration yet. When Tharsten Heart-Fang is safe in our village again, we shall have a feast.”

Again they cheered. Korst had made it sound like Heart-Fang had gone out on picnic, and the villagers thought nothing of his disappearance. But that night, when they were alone with their thoughts and heads on their pillows, they would ponder the curious coincidence of werewolves attacking on the same day their leader disappeared.

Before then, Lars went with Korst inside his hut at the edge of town. He sat by the fire while Korst took his arm into hand. He dripped the contents of a green vial on to the wound, handed skilfully with his muzzle. It hissed on the human’s flesh and Lars winced. “No need to fret. This is standard medicine used in the village to prevent infections,” he mumbled and carefully placed the vial back down into the darkness outside the light of the fire. He returned with a roll of bandages. Lars took it from his mouth and helped himself. “I appreciate your decision to get healed. The Skaal really needs a friend like you at a time like this. I will be able to lead the village intermediately, but I have other duties as the shaman as well.”

“What do you think King Sombra wants with the ponies he abducts?” Lars finished dressing his wound and handed the roll of gauze back.

“I don’t have a clue, I fear. King Sombra is not en entity that we have had many dealings with. Our records does not stretch far enough back to mention him. None of that matters, however. You must get back our village chief at all cost. As such, I will allow you to take one of the Skaal’s most prized possessions.”

“Great!” Lars exclaimed, with colour returning to his cheeks. The initial shock was dampening, leaving him simply light of head, and heart. “Where is it then?”

Korst shook his head. “Stolen, many years ago I’m afraid. We have heard many rumours of its location, but none of our warriors have ever managed to retrieve it. It will be an invaluable boon to your mission, however, so retrieving it must be your next task.”

Lars nodded in surprise. “S-sure,” he replied. “What is it then? This great treasure of yours?”

Korst did not speak at first, but raised his head and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the smoky air. “It’s a talisman,” he said in a faraway voice. “Its power is that to protect its wearer from magic. Many years ago, some dissidents fled our family. Most of our priced possessions were later recovered as they all met a terrible end. But the Totem of Claw and Fang… It remains to this day in the Tombs of Skaalara, the only place where it could feasibly be.”

“Great, I go there, and then what?” Even the peppiness was petering out and Lars returned slowly to his usual demeanour. “We still have no idea where King Sombra is.”

Korst bowed his head and fixed Lars with clear eyes. “Do not worry about that. We will find him; I have methods for that. I would have used them earlier but things have been so hectic lately. If you just worry about the talisman, I will find King Sombra for us. It might take me a few days but you will know when I am ready,” he said in a mysterious tone that spoke volumes of the secretiveness involved. Lars took the hint and got up to leave. He turned around, unsure what to say, and turned back around again.

To the southeast, near another large river, lay the Tombs of Skaalara. It was over hills and snow dunes with no forests and only large rocks, a short walk away from the village. The entrance was not easy to miss either. Large slabs of black rock contrasted with the undisturbed white snow. The entrance was on the side, facing a slope running down to the calm waters. On the other bank, the frozen wasteland continued as far as the eye could see. Somewhere in the far distance was a light, as if from a massive city.

Lars pushed the round door in. It was obstinate with age and only unwillingly obeyed his physical command. The stone, like in the other tombs, rolled to the side. Lars gave the cloudy sky a last look before venturing inside. Strong warriors had gone in, but none had come out.

At first it was dark. There were lit torches but the darkness was dense, and the smoke from the torches themselves thick. Lars fumbled around, groping for a hold. “Right in front of you,” a voice told him. Lars snapped towards it. “No, you git, not that way! Turn left again.”

A pair of glowing red eyes locked on to him, followed by a vicious snarl. His hand reacted instinctively and swiped at it with the mace. A wolf whimpered as his instrument made contact with something. That something fell to his feet, soft with liquid pooling around him.

“There you go, my friend. Let’s have some light, though, huh? Can barely see a thing in this twilight.”

The room lit up from a bright orb appearing next to Lars. A light purple unicorn was trapped inside with face mushed against the side. Lars took a step back and held up his arm to shield the eyes. From the grey day to the darkness of the tomb, the light stabbed his eyes. “God, you again? What do you want this time, Butterscotch?”

The ball of light bobbed gently up and down, as if suspended in water. “Don’t say that; what I want is what you want. This Sombra character… bad news for business, and I am breaking out of here soon, you know. So what are we doing here? And where are we even?” Butterscotch’s eyes darted back and forth, unable to move his head.

Lars ignored him and checked the chamber off to the right. It was a preparation room for the dead filled with tools of preservation. The light from the ball first ran up over a table with shears and bloodied bowls. Butterscotch’s range was more like a projector than a light bulb, since the light came from his horn. A lupine form caught in the searchlight.

It jumped, and Lars reacted by pure instinct, and caught the werewolf by its neck. Its jaws were millimetres away from his nose. It fell to the floor. Lars took a moment to calm his nerves while Butterscotch gently rotated his bubble so his stationary horn could illuminate the room entirely. “See, I’m a great help, so stop ignoring me. You make me feel sad.”

Lars pointed a shaking finger at him. “Why do you always show up like this? Every time I’m out on a mission you’re there, and then something always goes wrong or has just gone wrong.” Butterscotch remained quiet on the issue. “Forget it. If it can amuse you, I’m here to look for the Totem of Claw and Fang.”

“Oh that old thing!” Butterscotch snickered, but the mirth was cold enough to penetrate Lars’ suit and make the hair on his arms stand up. “What do you want with that?”

Lars shuddered as he went back into the tomb. He was taking the tunnel straight ahead. “I suppose you’re going to tell me you made it?”

Butterscotch hovered in front of him so that he had stop, with the light directly into his eyes. “Don’t go that way, my friend. It’s a dead end leading to a werewolf den.” The inhabited bubble hovered back into the entrance and took the last corridor on the left. “And yes, as a matter of fact I did. If I hadn’t forgotten it, I might have avoided detection by Celestia, but where would the fun be in that?”

“Now I’m not so sure I want it anymore. I’ve seen how your other creations have been faring.” Still he trudged on.

Claws pitter-pattered across the stone floor. Lars was prepared and held his mace out in front him. Out of the darkness, an enormous shape lunged at him. The bubble gave a loud bang that distracted him. The two went down on the ground and tussled. The wolf clamped down on his mace. The strong jaws wrestled with Lars over dominance of the weapon, pulling back and forth. The bubble smacked down on the beast’s head. The werewolf was distracted enough to go after the bubble, jumping with teeth drooling from fury, but it was always out of reach. It gave Lars time to gather his senses and get up on his feet. The werewolf turned its head too late…

Lars lowered his bloodied mace and turned away from the dead werewolf. Butterscotch followed him. “Sorry about that. I forget this bubble is magic proof. And that I’m hundreds of kilometres away at the bottom of the ocean.” Butterscotch laughed.

“I don’t need your help. But if you want to be of use, then tell me about the human you brought here. And don’t you dare lie to me.”

“Ah, you’ve been talking to Aeslipp. You probably noticed the whole accidentally summoning demons thing as well. Such unfortunate business, opening a portal to the wrong dimension.” Another werewolf rushed down the corridor, no doubt attracted by the noise from the fight. Its snarls were cut short by a mace to the face. “Nice swing! Well I don’t know what to tell you. It wasn’t exactly my first human to teleport to Equestria, nor my only one. I can hardly remember it.”

“You can tell me his name!” Lars shouted at the bubble. “You can tell me what you did to him; whether you left him alive, whether you turned him into a draug… anything!”

“Oh, it’s such a long time ago, and my time in imprisonment didn’t help matters either. Let’s see… I can’t remember what we did to him, but I am almost certain he was still alive. I can’t imagine myself killing him. And besides, you’re asking a lot of me here. The pods weren’t named… only numbered.”

They came to a large, natural cavern with a huge pillar in the middle. Butterscotch’s light could scarcely reach the opposite walls. Still Lars determinedly marched on. “Like I thought. You’re useless and conniving, and I want no more parts of your schemes,” he shouted without as much as looking behind him. Instead the bubble swiftly bounded over him and stopped him. Lars brushed it aside and the bubble bounced into the darkness. “No, we’re through. Go back to the bottom of the ocean where I left you and stay there.”

With all of his might, Butterscotch floated behind him. “I would not go that way. Just turn left and… Lars! Lars, you stubborn oaf, you’re going to get yourself killed!” But Lars was unheeding and went his own way. He stopped dead when two pair of eyes focused at him. Butterscotch’s horn did not need to illuminate them. Lars perfectly well knew by then what werewolves looked like in the dark.

He grabbed for his mace, but the werewolves were too quick. They were not ferocious, however, and used only a fraction of their power to knock him down. The first werewolf looked down at him with contempt. “We guard this tomb against any intruders. I am impressed you made it this far, but we are the strongest of our kin, surpassed only by our leader. Your streak of luck ends, here.” The voice was young and female, but dripped with unnatural malice and blood-thirst.

The werewolf raised one of the paws it kept him pinned down with and slashed at his face. The bubble, however, floated between them and the wolf instead pawed it away. It made an irritable sound eerily reminiscent of pony speech. It tossed its head, and the other werewolf set off after it.

Lars did not allow the chance to go to waste. Immediately he kicked upwards with all his might. As the werewolf was fully erect on top of him, his foot had plenty of space to gather power. The golden boot sunk into the fur between the legs. The werewolf howled out in agony. Lars drove his elbow up into its throat. It screamed ponily in frustration. Though more than a beast, it still had instincts that could not be trumped, blinding it with fury. It made a mistake that would cost it, a senseless leap for Lars’ throat. Lars swung his mace as hard as he could. The werewolf fell to the ground, the head bending sickeningly.

The other one howled out in agony. It looked a lot less intelligent, accidently releasing its newfound chew toy. Butterscotch’s bubble was unbreakable, however. He slinked away, up under the ceiling where he could watch from safety, as the other werewolf barked awkwardly. It was confused, uncertain. There was a glimmer of sentience flashing in its eyes, but was quickly drowned in animal ferocity. Lars baited it with hand gestures, waving for it to come closer. It was unable to make plans or see through schemes. It ran with its tongue lolling out. Unable to think clearly, it quickly lost the ability altogether. Lars removed the mace from on top of its head, and it collapsed.

“Always going for the head. Well, I suppose that’s only natural when you have a mace as strong as yours.” Butterscotch hovered back down like a grotesque, oversized fairy companion and tried to get the panting Lars’ attention. “You all right, tough guy? You look a little winded. Let me tell you, the years have been gracious to you, but some things you just cannot escape.”

“Which way?” he asked and finally looked up at Butterscotch, putting his mace back to its belt. The blood on it froze and hung like crimson icicles.

At first Butterscotch looked back at Lars with surprise, but quickly turned it to a pleased smile. “The way on the right is a dead-end, and the one behind you also just leads to another werewolf. You need to take the one in front of you,” he replied and began hovering the way. Lars slouched after him.

The natural corridor was short and another, smaller, chamber opened up before them. Like with other Skaal tombs, the dead warriors were encased in ice in the niches on all the walls. At the far end of the room was a chest also covered in a layer of ice, but of the normal variety from centuries of being dripped on from above and subsequently frozen. In the middle slept a beast so huge that its size was impossible to determine, or hard to believe. Its eyes were at one end of the chamber, but there was a swishing of a tail at the other.

“I have not had any company for quite some time, and we werewolves are long-lived. Quite some time is a much longer span of time than you can imagine. I almost thought I would wither and die without ever seeing anyone. Perhaps my first challenger shall be my last?” The eyes moved up… it had only been lying down! Its full form rose above Lars. Was it the incarnation of darkness or an actual beast?

The mace in Lars’ hand almost seemed pointless in comparison. There was no end to the foe standing before him. It simply stretched on forever and ever. “I have come for the Totem of Claw and Fang,” Lars said and tried to control the fear in his voice. “Before we begin, will you tell me if I’m in the right place?”

“Indeed, you have come to the right place. I should know; I paid for my folly of stealing it with this hideous form. The talisman shall never be yours, though. Its power presents a danger to my master so here I will guard it forever.” The beast closed its eyes, and it disappeared. Its shape melted into the darkness. There was only the sound of it walking and its heavy breath, but with the echoes of the room, it became impossible to determine where the werewolf was.

“All right, let me shed some light on the scene here.” Butterscotch’s horn blazed up in a bright flash. Lars took to his eyes with a grunt. “Ah, oops. Sorry about that.”

“Stop helping!” he screamed in despair, covering his face with his left arm and clutching his mace with the right. “I can’t see a thing…”

“On your left!” Butterscotch shouted. Instinctively, Lars swatted his mace in the appointed direction. The swoosh of a paw followed. The two met with a force that nearly knocked Lars off his feet. Somewhere in the darkness, the wolf whimpered.

The paw came from the left. Lars barely managed to get up his defences. Finally the wolf had enough. Butterscotch disappeared, light and advice and all. Lars attempted to lift his self-imposed veil. The completely dark room somehow stood out clearly to him. Whether a natural reaction, or one brought on by Butterscotch’s magical light, Lars could again see. The werewolf was no longer hidden for him. Its enormous jaws were clamping down on Lars. Only the reflexes of a militarily trained man allowed him to escape.

The mace however… The werewolf nearly took of his entire hand along with it and swallowed. It licked its lips and burped a few snowflakes. Lars fell on his behind and scooted along the ground. “What did you do with Butterscotch?”

“Do not worry about your friend; you will be joining him, and your mace, soon enough. It has been fun but this is where the game ends.” The gigantic werewolf leisurely followed him. Or perhaps all it did, all it ever did, was twisting its large, mangy body.

Lars pressed himself up against the wall with heart hammering up in his throat. No ideas of an escape came to hm. The very entrance had melted into the blackness, blocked by the werewolf. It could have been right in front of him, or behind him, or to any of the sides. He threw his head this way and that. He was trapped, but determined not to lose his cool despite shaking and sweating.

He ran, and the darkness itself slithered after him. He groped for a different weapon, anything, but his hand found only fur. Finally a paw nailed him to the ground. He squirmed and kicked, but the strength was unlike anything he had ever felt. The jaws again neared his face. Steamy slobber fell on his chest. His breath came in ragged hiccups as the teeth neared him.

The gums were blue. The movements slowed down. The teeth became icicles. The drool froze on its muzzle. The werewolf stopped dead. Its eyes were wild with confusion and panic. Lars relaxed on the ground, trying to steady his heartbeat again. “You absolute fool. The mace you ate had the ability to freeze all that it touches. Even I as its handler must take care to not freeze myself. And you ate it! You ate it!”

“Impossible! Who… aaaaare… yooouuuuu..?” The werewolf froze into a mask of blind rage. The transformation was complete. Even its fur was tinted blue. The whole extent of it became visible. It truly was like a snake enveloping the room. Beneath its belly was the exit. Lars breathed a sigh of relief.

First the mace popped out of the beast’s maw. Pristine and undisturbed, it clanged against the stone floor. Next, the mouth lit up as a bubble emerged. “I’m telling you, that was too close for comfort. Thankfully that dumb beast had never heard of stahlrim. Or perhaps it forgot.” Butterscotch’s bubble was covered in hoarfrost. He bounced up and down in the outside freedom to shake it off. “Anyway, the mission is complete and it’s time to claim your reward. The chest is right over there.”

The cone of light illuminated an old wooden box. The metal bars and locks reinforcing it were all still very much intact, and ice centuries of ice covered it. None of it was any match for his mace, however. It all broke after only two swings. “This should be… the Totem of Claw and Fang,” Lars said and reached into wreckage. His hand pulled out a leather thong with claws and fangs. He held it out to admire it before putting it around his neck.

“Every bit as majestic as I recall it,” Butterscotch sniffed. “Take good care of it now. It’s one of my masterpieces.”

“You’re going to leave me again, then? You only ever seem to appear during crises, and this one has passed,” Lars said with eyes on the amulet. As there was no answer, he looked up and found that the bubble with its occupant were gone. He sighed and began the long trek back.

CHAPTER 5 PART 3: DISCOVERY IN THE MINE

A commotion. The workers screamed as they ran out of the mine. Lars looked up from the bench where he sat, under the bar’s windows. The strong stallions and mares had fear in their dilated eyes. The rest of the colony hurried inside and shut their doors and windows with a bang. Even the bar ushered in as many ponies as it could before closing its door as well.

Lars looked confused from one bristling tail to another, unable to get a single syllable out of the choir of panicked screams. At last Melon himself ran up to him, panting. “Trouble!” he managed to say between heaves. He took another moment to gather himself. “The miners broke down an old wall, down in the mine. They found some kind of burial chamber. A dozen undead poured out! I think all the miners got out safely, but I had to close the doors.”

A smile streamed over Lars’ face as he got up on his feet. “Undead, you say? I guess we’ve finally found the lab,” he said and licked his lips.

Melon took a step back from the human. “You can’t go in there alone. I’m requesting help from the fort to root out the evil and–”

Lars determinedly closed the distance to the mine. The few miners out watched him with trepidation. They shook their heads as Lars went inside the shack covering the entrance. He entered the mine trembling with excitement.

A single draug waited for him just inside. It was just as surprised by the disturbance, as the workers were with Lars going inside. It never even saw the mace coming. Its head exploded into a cloud of frozen skin and bone fragments. Lars stepped over the corpse without paying it any attention. His mind was focused on only one thing.

Deeper and deeper he went, deeper even than his last visit. The draugr attacked him on sight, but their bodies were pounded with his mace. Their bones broke under the blows, and their forms sagged to the floor, with life drifting out of them. The red glow in their empty sockets faded. Down, down, down he walked. The mine spiralled further and further into the ground. The miners had relentlessly pounded the soil for weeks and carted out the precious stones. Side chambers branched off. Some were empty; others were used for storage or temporary quarters. Torches had been driven into the walls, along with reinforcing bars of wood.

At the very bottom stood the chamber. Most of the dead were still gathered around the broken wall, shambling around the chamber or stalking the hallway outside. With one mind, they attacked as soon as they saw Lars. Their rotted fingers grabbed for him. Their teeth sought his flesh.

Suddenly they were all over him. It took only seconds, and Lars was surrounded. Yet his mien was not one of fear. His face was as determined as ever. The chamber was just past them. He swung his mace with renewed strength. The bones of the dead were hard like crystals, however. Lars staggered with each blow. It was impossible to down more than one at a time.

The necklace was warm against his skin. Its magic pulsated through him. The dead stepped back, unable to get near him, repulsed by the aura surrounding Lars. He struck in their momentary stupor and felled three before the foes lunged at him again.

The draugr changed their tactic. Some clawed at his chest where they could feel his power source. He pounded them down before they could come close. More dangerous were the other group, those using their long limbs to swipe at him. Incapable of using weapons, they had only their arms at their disposal. Their diamond-like bones were enough to be felt through his suit. He stepped back, and more arms wrapped around his throat. A hand caught him across the cheek. For a moment he could see nothing but dancing stars. The amulet pulsated again. It was a comfortable feeling, like a foal sleeping with its favourite toy. It did nothing to the draugr, but it filled Lars with confidence.

Lars ducked another attack. His arms were still free. He jabbed the mace behind him. There was not enough momentum to reject the draug around his neck, but the cold spikes bored through the leathery skin. Freezing cold spread from the superficial wound. In seconds, the draug was covered in ice. He slipped out of its chokehold, just as a hand sough his head again. Instead it punched the draug behind him and shattered it.

The last few draugr met with a swift fate. One by one, the crystallised mummies were downed with numerous injuries. Lars took a moment to catch his breath and investigate his surroundings. There were no more draugr anywhere. The chamber was empty as well. Lars peeked inside. His heart skipped a beat.

It was not the lab. It was a disposal chamber. Hideous creatures were entombed in magic ice in niches along the walls. Most prominent of all was a slab in the middle. A tall man rested there, ice covering him entirely. Every feature was preserved down to the last detail from his wild, red hair to his bushy beard and even a defiant smile. Lars ran into the room and rubbed the ice. It threatened to freeze his hand off, but he didn’t care. He had to see who was interred. A gasp of relief escaped him. He laughed, and he cried, and he collapsed down one wall. The room was glacial, but he didn’t feel the cold. His search was at an end.

How long Lars spent down in the chamber is unknown. There was no light to divide time into hours. He simply sat with his head resting up against the cold wall between niches, the mace on the floor next to him. After an eternity, or perhaps minutes, hoofs echoed through the corridor. A violet pony peered inside the chamber. The paleness of his face and sweaty brow spoke volumes of his unwillingness to be there. “I did not think you survived, Lars. Is everything all right?”

A dark shadow hung over Lars’ face. “Of all the people I could have found, I found my friend… only to find him encased in ice. I want you meet the man I shared my childhood and academy years with: Ulrich Pendragon.” His voice was quiet and despondent, his hands resting in his lap.

“I am glad you found him, but… can’t we break the ice? It looks solid, but surely–”

“This is stahlrim… magic ice. Its hardness isn’t measured in physical terms. It is water infused with spells and woven with enchantments. It is designed to be unyielding, and cannot be broken by any force in nature, not even itself.”

Lars grabbed the mace by his side and jolted up on his feet. He put all of his pent-up frustration into his swings. He whimpered at first, turning them into screams. His mace and the frozen tomb were both indestructible. Neither ever chipped nor cracked. Only Lars’ own endurance set the limit for his feat. He howled in soul anguish as the mace slipped from his shaking hands. He fell to his knees and pounded the cave floor. “Every goddamn time. I think I’m allowed some reprieve, or a reward, but then I’m snubbed when I can just touch it. I thought there was a machine to take me home, I thought I could at least have my daughter with me, I thought I could at the very, very least have my best friend back. THIS IS NOT FAIR!”

Melon smiled ever so slightly and grunted compassionately. “Are you quite done already, Lars? You never allowed me to reply,” the pony said and put a hoof on Lars’ back.

The human sat crouched on the floor with his despairing face looking at his trembling, aching hands. “There’s nothing you can say that will make anything better.”

Melon put his hoof down again and flicked his orange hair back. “You called it stahlrim. You are absolutely sure that is its name?” he asked. Lars looked up curiously and nodded. “We have dealings with the Skaal nowadays. The village itself is unaccepting of us, but there are several expelled ponies willing to talk with us. One of them mentioned the possibility of forging stahlrim for us, but the price he demanded was exorbitant.”

“Where? Where can I find this pony?”

Melon pointed his hoof but realised they were still underground. He lowered the hoof again and coughed. “To the northeast, on a small landmass connected to the wasteland by a thin strip to the south end. I doubt he will help you for free though.”

Lars got up resolutely, clapping some life and warmth into his thighs, fire burning in his eyes. “Whatever it takes, friend. I know the place you speak of too. I believe I saw it when I went searching for the sacred stone pillars of the Skaal.”

With that, the human hurried away. Melon stared after him with concern, and then back to the ice casket. The other human slept so peacefully inside with hands folded over his chest. He was long and thin, with a much more youthful face than Lars. He had not aged for a thousand years, or just sixteen like Lars had since waking up.

It took him a few hours of travel. Without the map, it was difficult to find the stones he hoped to use as guide posts. Several times he had to climb hills to orient himself in the landscape, but at last he came to the river. It flowed down from the mountain and split in two, creating the designated landmass. It was more of a stream that a river, reaching him no further than the calves. Fortunately he had been prudent enough to stretch his suit down over his boots to prevent them from filling with water as he trudged across.

He did not have to look long for the house. A yell disturbed the still air. Lars ran towards the source, close to where the river branched. The wooden hut was almost invisible with snow covering its roof and piled up against the walls. Three earth ponies huddled together against the river. A fourth earth pony stalked closer to them with a knife in her mouth. Her tongue wiped out and licked the blade. “Hey!” Lars called out, unsure what else to say. The female earth pony turned around with an annoyed expression. “Leave those ponies alone.”

She walked away from the terrified family. The biggest of them was already cut up and his orange coat matted with blood. “Just who the hay do you think you are?” the mare blurted out, every word, every syllable from her mouth lathered with contempt and malice. Her coat was so purple it appeared black while her shortly cropped mane was violet. “Really, Trusty Gunner will have to pay me extra for killing you as well.”

Lars whipped out his mace and held it defensively up before him. “Trusty Gunner? What does he want with that Skaal?”

The mare spat out her dagger and wrapped her hoof around it. “I’m his assassin, not his therapist… I get paid to make a few obstacles disappear, so what do I care? Say, now that I’ve got a better look at you, you fit the description of a human. Are you?” she asked, the lustful smile returning to her lips.

Lars put one leg ahead of the other in a fighting stance, keeping the mace pointed at the mare. “I guess that ratty lackey of his isn’t to blame for Southern Charge,” he mumbled to himself. “Will you answer me one thing?”

“Nah, I’m done with your questions. If you still have some, maybe you can find someone to ask in the afterlife.” She put the dagger back into her mouth and leapt. Lars blocked with his mace. The assassin dug her hind legs into the frozen ground and pushed against Lars. Her malicious grin turned to shock. Frost ever so slowly covered the dagger. The temperature dropped instantly until she could no longer hold the blade in her mouth. The freezing magic was spreading unto her as well, so she spat the dagger out again.

Her eyes seemed to ask why as the mace was brought down between them, with the sound of a ripe melon splattering on pavement.

The wounded earth pony approached Lars. His bright orange coat was lined with wounds from the dagger, and his greyish-blue mane was matted with blood. “You saved my life and that of my family. Warriors from Equestria are truly impressive, and diverse…” The earth pony looked Lars up and down. His wife and son crept forward as well with appreciative smiles, but kept to the background. “What manner of creature are you supposed to be?”

“I’m neither from Equestria nor from the Frozen Wasteland. I’m a human, my name is Lars, and… it’s a long story. I came because I heard you can forge stahlrim.”

“Truly, I have never heard of humans before. A pleasure to meet you, human Lars. My name is Graring and you have heard correctly. When the Skaal deemed the destruction of stahlrim a sacrilege, and destroyed all tools to manipulate it with, my ancestors grabbed the last pickaxe and fled here. I don’t normally allow others to use it, but seeing as how you saved my life, I guess I can permit some leniency.” Graring nodded, and the mare nudged the colt inside the hut.

Lars brushed the bloody icicles away from his mace, careful not to touch the head itself, and put it away. “I appreciate it. Listen, I work for the mine at Raven Rock, so perhaps you wouldn’t mind doing some business with us?”

“Not at all, it’s the least I can do, but bear in mind that stahlrim is an extremely limited source. I can make tools and weapons and armours out of it, but only if you can bring me the material, so be careful with what you request of me.” The young male returned, and Grarin tossed his head towards Lars. He held up an odd device. Lars carefully took it in hand. It was metal and bluish silver in colour, with sharp shapes and deadly tips. Though fragile to look at, it was sturdy and held some weight. Lars couldn’t help but chortle.

“Another thing Butterscotch took from my homeworld, eh? Thank you very much, Graring, you have done me an invaluable favour. You will see the benefits of working with Equestria from this point on.”

Graring bowed and nodded to the younger earth pony. “Bring any stahlrim you fund to my son, and he’ll make anything with it, absolutely free. As a thank you for saving our lives. You can tell the others, though, that they still need to pay,” he said with a sly smile and winked.

Lars hurried back. He surprised himself by how quickly he returned, until remembering he had not made the trip all the way from the Skaal village. He went through the village with fast pace and descended the mine. The miners were back to work and glanced sideways at the hurricane blowing through the corridors. None of them were in the hall with the burial chamber, however.

Melon waited there, along with a small medical team. Lars paused, suddenly realising the seriousness of the undertaking he was about to commence. All he had had eyes for was getting his friend back. And he was so close. Melon nodded solemnly and swallowed a lump at the ancient, gnarled ice axe in Lars’ hand. Lars looked at the medical personal and finally to Melon.

“Well… first of all I’d like to thank you for all that you’ve done for me. You’ve been a good friend, Melon, and I really appreciate it, but… this is what I came here for. I don’t know what happens after this. Could be I leave, could be I stay. One thing is for certain, though. I came here to find my friend, but now I am also engaged in the fight against King Sombra.”

The medic ponies listened and withdrew to the sides. Two strong earth pony males held a stretcher ready, while a nimbler unicorn female had an emergency bag between her teeth. Melon, tired, bedraggled and emaciated, put on his bravest face. “Save your speech for later, Lars, when you actually need it.” That was all Melon had to say. He drew back to the side as well, with the unicorn. The stage was all Lars’.

He took a single swing. The axe sank into the ice without a hitch. To his pickaxe, the stahlrim was just regular ice, cracking under its force. Again and again he swung the axe. The ice crumbled in large pieces and fell to the ground. It neither melted nor broke off. The pieces simply sat there like indestructible rubble at his feet.

The stahlrim was tightly packed around Ulrich, yet didn’t seem to have crushed him. His skin was pale and his beard bushy. The stahlrim oddly hadn’t clumped in his hair at all.

Once the ice had been sufficiently removed, the unicorn planted her hoofs on the stone slab and began her examination. “I can’t say anything for certain. His complete lack of any vital signs could just as well be an indication of his hibernation. If we are careful with thawing him, and he’s still alive, we might be able to save him. We need to get him back to the fort quickly, though.” That was the cue for the two carriers to gently lift Ulrich down on the stretcher. Being tall for even a human, his legs reached the front pony’s head.

“He’ll be… he’ll be fine. He’s still in full safety suit, after all,” Lars noted, referring to Ulrich’s similar one-piece of purple fabric. The medical team vacated the mine and Lars fell to his hands and knees. The pickaxe clinked on the floor.

“Are you all right?” Melon asked, trying not to touch the freezing pieces of stahlrim scattered on the floor. “You should call it an early night. You look pale.”

Lars panted, shaking like feverish though his whole body was cold. “No, how can I sleep now? My quest is so… my quest is… it’s…” His vision faded. His body fell.

“You’ve been working yourself hard on a tenuous hope that your friend was to be found here. The bonds of friendship are truly amazing, but you can rest now, Lars. You have earned it more than anyone. Perhaps even I should try to get a few winks.” Melon smiled fatherly and called for help. He stayed by Lars’ side until they could arrive, even with the freezing temperature from the stahlrim pieces.

Chapter 6: Chases, Hunts and Infiltration

I have finally found my childhood friend; my life-long pal Ulrich Pendragon. He was discovered in a disposal chamber for all of Butterscotch’s failed experiments, encased in ice on a slab of stone. We are still not certain whether he lives or dies. He shows no vital signs, but it is still a possibility that he is merely frozen. More bad news. Werewolves attacked the Skaal village just as I was made an honorary Skaal and made off with Heart-Fang, their leader. To help me fight against them and King Sombra, I retrieved the Totem of Claw and Fang. It will protect me against magic.

CHAPTER 6 PART 1: THE SPIRIT CHASE

Lars was sitting in a small, empty room. A fire burned in a hearth in the other end. By his side lay Ulrich in bed with arms crossed on his abdomen. The human was deathly still and did not stir, despite how intently Lars kept watch or wished. Ulrich’s skin was still cold. No amount of fire had managed to raise his temperature even a fraction. Instead the human slumbered and slumbered. So entranced was Lars that he did not notice the intruder. Nor did he discover how it had entered.

A white wolf sat on the carpet covering the wooden floor, wagging its tail. Its yelp brought Lars out of his trance. He fell off his stool in surprise. The wolf merely observed him with a watchful glance. Lars jolted up on his feet and took the mace from his waist. The wolf didn’t flinch, did not make a sound. It got up from the floor and strolled leisurely towards the door. It looked back at Lars.

“Well… Korst did tell me I would know when he had something, and you look like the friendly sort. How did you get in here, boy?”

The wolf said nothing and slinked outside. The room was a small hut in the Raven Rock mining colony. They had taken Ulrich to the fort but there was nothing they could do there, nothing that anyone could do. So Lars had taken him back to the colony and Melon had offered him a room. Lars had been keeping vigil until the lupine shape had interrupted him. The other ponies in the colony didn’t as much as flinch at the wolf. Had Lars been more into the moment, he would have noticed only he could see the apparition. It disappeared down the road and appeared again in the distance, peering at him with its soulful eyes.

The day was waning. Darkness ate of the light in the distance and silently encroached. Out in the wilderness, Lars could see for miles of uninterrupted land and sky. Only the mountains blocked his view of the north. The air was fresh and clean and smelled of frost and undisturbed nature. His breath came in clouds as he climbed hills and snow dunes. The wolf was always there, observing him, always out of reach.

In Skaal village, however, everyone noticed the wolf. They lowered their heads at it and smiled like a returning friend. The wolf waited for Lars and kept around his feet all the way into Korst’s hut. It vanished in the darkness inside despite its brilliant hue. Korst himself came into the light from the fire in the middle of the room. As always, it only served to illuminate a small area around it and strengthening the darkness outside. “You’re finally here. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t make it,” Korst said anxiously, his face irritable and his gestures quick.

“You sent that wolf for me, didn’t you? I got here as quickly as I could,” Lars replied in kind.

“Yes. You bear the talisman of our people, after all. With it, you can also summon and see our patrons. The wolf has accepted you. It is a loyal animal but uses guiles to make up for its shortcomings. If you want to find King Sombra you must gain the respect of an animal with real strength and wisdom. I have arranged for a spirit chase but your target will soon return to its own world. Hurry to Lake Fjalding south of here, and meet the other Skaal warriors.”

Again Lars felt the wolf locking its watchful eyes on him from outside the door, but he kept his focus on what was ahead. “And this spirit will show me the way to King Sombra?” he asked. Korst merely nodded. “Then I won’t return until I’ve had an audience. I owe it to this world that took in a stranger like myself to put everything right.”

The wolf again ran ahead and always stayed ahead, watching him from afar. As he got nearer, it turned around and was gone, but there it was again, in the distance. It ran down to the lake towards a group of three Skaal warriors and evaporated. The ponies, perhaps having sensed it, turned around and saw only Lars panting along. The three Skaal were not guards, and wore armour of sturdy leather and fur. Only their leader wore a suit of metal, in golden and grey colours. He took off his helmet and revealed a bald, light-brown head.

“We were just about to start the chase. The spirit bear won’t stick around forever, you know?” His voice suited a strong, burly earth pony like himself.

Lars came to a stop before him and put his hands on his knees as he bent over to get his breath. “Sorry, sorry, I got here as fast as I could. I can feel I’m not as young as I used to be. I’m Lars,” he said with a tinge of humour that flew completely past the warrior.

“Long Tooth,” the warrior said and turned around. The warriors began the chase in a slow pace with eyes glued to the ground on all sides. “The Skaal has a lot to thank you for, though your help has not been needed. I could have activated the Stones myself, if someone had cared to ask, or dealt with that fire in this lake.”

“Well I’m not implying you couldn’t,” Lars said quickly in surprise, having taken the gratitude of the Skaal as a given. The proud warrior tribe however still contained ponies afraid of the change the human would inevitably bring and come to represent. “I’m just here to ask this spirit bear for advice.”

“You leave the asking, and talking in general, to us. Sattir the Bold,” he interjected and threw his head off into the darkening distance. The pony he addressed had a bear’s blue paw print painted across his face. He nodded and galloped off. “I trust that shaman only enough to take care of our spiritual matters. I’m sure our honourable leader would agree.”

Lars groaned his dissatisfaction but was not allowed a proper reply. Sattir the Bold rounded an enormous rock. Not ten seconds later his scream rent the air. “What was that?” Lars burst out instead.

“No doubt the spirit bear,” Long Tooth said and sprinted with his company to the direction of the scream. Sattir the Bold lay on his back with legs twitching.

“It was the great spirit bear!” he said exalted and laughed, only to be cut off by his own coughing. “I’m sorry, sir, it didn’t find me worthy. It swatted me aside like I was a ragdoll.”

Long Tooth nodded with his hard face. “You did well, warrior. Guide us in the direction it left and then get some rest. That’s an order.” The warrior waved his hoof weakly away from the lake, into the forest. Long Tooth took off along with his last remaining warrior, a wiry mare, and Lars right behind them.

“Perhaps you should let me try and speak with the bear next time? It doesn’t seem to–”

“Nonsense. The spirit bear is a sacred Skaal patron. It would be sacrilege to let a foreigner even touch eyes upon it. You’re just here to keep the normal wildlife, and any bandits, in check. Axe Wife, you’re up next.”

The mare’s downcast face easily found the most likely route and disappeared into the trees. Long Tooth sat down with a triumphant smile. It didn’t take long before her screams paled his face.

They found her, also on the ground with her suit torn, but no blood drawn. Colour refused to return to Long Tooth’s face. Instead his breath came in white clouds. The sky had turned almost completely black.

“She was my finest warrior. Her handle on a weapon is unmatched by anypony I have ever trained. That the spirit bear so quickly cast her aside can only mean one thing… it wants to speak with me alone. This must be a very serious matter.”

Like a pony possessed, Long Tooth set out again into the forest. Lars looked from his dwindling shape to the mare on the ground. She was still breathing but her eyes closed and her head rested on the snow. “Wait up for me, goddammit,” Lars shouted after Long Tooth. “The spirit bear has already cast aside your team, why do you think it’s going to show you any mercy?”

Lars caught up with him quickly as Long Tooth had halted. He stood completely still in the middle of the forest. Lars smiled for a moment, thinking the warrior to finally have come to his senses, but the real reason quickly revealed itself. Three pairs of glowing, yellow eyes came out of the darkness. Lars took out his mace. The first shape leapt. The mace swished and crunched. The shape fell dead on the ground. A werewolf.

The other two attacked in a pincer formation. Long Teeth unsheathed a sword. The glowing moon fell on his blade for just a moment. The glint was stained with crimson and a deathly howl. Lars put his mace back. The third and last werewolf joined its comrade on the forest floor.

“Well human, no… Lars Leland, I may have erred on my part. We Skaal owe you a debt of gratitude that we would never be able to repay. You may lead the spirit chase if you will allow me to call you friend?” Long Tooth panted, not so much from the exertion as the sudden scare. He took a few moments before turning around to face Lars. He had left the strong pony on a shelf, and instead revealed a pony with solitary eyes.

“It will be an honour. You have helped me find the spirit bear, so go back to the village and take care of your wounded.”

Long Tooth teetered for a moment, unsure whether he should stay and help, but eventually decided on the wisdom in Lars’ words and nodded. The armoured pony sprinted back the way they had come while Lars headed further into the woods.

An enormous bear shuffled towards him and roared. For a moment Lars readied his fighting stance but the wolf returned and sat down next to him and barked. Both animals were surrounded by a ghostly sheen, the more visible contrasting with the darkness. The pure white bear sat down as well. As it did, the light surrounding the wolf intensified and a completely white mare emerged from it with her mane flowing behind her. The same light surrounded the bear, and an old stallion leisurely walked out of the bear.

“Hoy. It’s been a while!” the mare said with a grin.

“It has. What took you so long?” the old stallion grouched and sat down in front of his glowing bear husk. “This world is about to fall into ruin. I’ve been calling out to you for ages.”

Lars looked from on to the other; unsure whether to believe it or not with everything else he had seen in Equestria. In the end he simply sat down on a rock between the spirits to see what may come. The wolf spoke again. “Ah, sorry, you know my spirit is bound to the talisman. This creature teamed up with the spirit of our prophet to rescue me from the werewolf den.”

“I told you before not to trust the prophet… he just isn’t what he seems. That includes any creatures he associates with. You, aren’t you a human? He had one like you around him before.”

“I am, but I know for a fact he’s not what he seems to be,” Lars replied, taken aback at being addressed so casually. “Princess Celestia imprisoned him long ago, but he broke free a few years ago and there was this whole thing–”

The old stallion waved his hoof and Lars fell silent again. “The Skaal are fools for not listening to you, and as much as I would love to hear your story, we have a more pressing issue at hand. King Sombra has been taking strong ponies from all over the Frozen Wasteland. I’m guessing he needs their power to regenerate himself. First the general of Fort Frostmoth and now the Skaal’s own chief. It’s a disgrace! Do you want to dispel the evil that is King Sombra?” the spirit bear pony asked.

“That’s right. I’ve come too far now to turn my back on you ponies. I’ve come to trust you with my life,” Lars said.

The wolf mare snickered. “Isn’t he great? Speaking so confidently about dangers he has no concept of. One day he will come to question his words. I just hope when the time comes he will not lose courage.”

“Hmm. Indeed, he is strong of body, but also of mind I should think. If his heart is not in this, he will surely lose his way,” the bear pony agreed and nodded.

“Don’t worry, I have had greater adversaries than a disembodied ghost before,” Lars replied and felt the weight of the gazes on him. Before they could reply or carry on the reproach and questioning, Lars continued: “So how do you know about King Sombra? None of the other Skaal seems to recognise him.”

The wolf-mare hung her head and sighed. “The Skaal are the survivors of the Crystal Empire. We have lost most of our original magic with the years, and only earth foals are born these days. Even the great evil of King Sombra has been repressed, as an anchor cut away so the ship can sail towards new shores. But we of the first generation still remember him. We used the last of our magic to protect the village forever, but the artefacts connecting us to this mortal soil have been lost over the years. Only bear and I are left now.” Having finished explaining, she raised her head longingly to the Moon.

“But the Crystal Empire is back. There’s no need for you to hide away out here.”

The bear-stallion grunted. “We Skaal moved on while the crystal ponies were lost to the ages. We are too separate now, but perhaps it is our destiny to merge again someday. Do not concern yourself with those matters. You, who would destroy King Sombra, go to his old hideout to the far west. Conquer the blizzards and snow and reach Castle Karstaag. Maybe you will find him there, or perhaps you will find the last pieces of the puzzle. We have dwelt long enough on old memories and it is time for me to leave, but I will allow you to summon me again should you wish.” The old pony went back inside the bear and the light dwindled. The bear fell back on all four and shuffled away into the forest.

The mare grinned up at Lars. “Thank you for rescuing me from that crypt. I can’t tell you how long I was trapped in there.” She also went back to her husk, but not before casting one last look over shoulder. “Don’t forget. If you’re ever in trouble, just summon me and I’ll come to your side.”

The wolf vanished and the darkness fell on Lars’ shoulder like a heavy weight. All of his exhaustion and pain crashed down on him at once. It was late with a full moon out.

Long Tooth was gone, along with his small team. Lars returned to the mine to check up on his friend. Ulrich still slept, a pale ghost of a past that could have been, and the last relic Lars had to hold on to. He knew in his heart of hearts that Ulrich would likely never wake up. There were no more tears for him to spend on the issue. Instead he sat vigil.

CHAPTER 6 PART 2: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

He had not meant to fall asleep there. It always meant he woke up feeling sore all over. But that was exactly where had dozed off late the night before. In his chair keeping watching over Ulrich. It was Melon that woke him with a shake. Lars smacked his lips dully and realised the tired pony face pressed all the way up against his.

“You have to wake up!” Melon insisted in a panicky voice between hyperventilating. “This is a true disaster, like flowers blooming too early. They bloom in a warm spell, but it is winter and then the cold sets in again and crushes them and leaves no survivors for spring. This is a disaster of that calibre.”

“I’m up already, what’s going on?”

Melon released Lars collar and fell back down on all four. The pony paced the little hut frantically, visibly more hair missing from his mane. “It’s that accursed Trusty Gunner. He has tried stooping to coercion and murder, but it never worked because I had you. Now he’s taking up the fight with me… legally.”

Lars stood from his chair, cracking his back and massaging his shoulders. “Don’t tell you made a mistake that can get you fired?”

“It won’t be long until that. He moved the deadline for the colony report to five hours from now. Meaning if he doesn’t receive it by then, he would have every legal right to fire me for negligence.”

Lars nodded in understanding but turned his attention to his friend on the slab of rock. For each day it seemed more colour returned to his skin, yet whether it was a portent of good or ill remained to be seen. “We know the tricks of Trusty Gunner. The journey is not long, certainly shorter if I hurry on foot, but it is almost guaranteed he has set another trap,” Lars said with eyes still riveted on Ulrich’s lifeless form.

“I was hoping you would say that.” Melon stuck his head inside his wrinkled doublet and pulled out a single sheet of sturdy paper on which a very fine writing was imprinted with black ink. “If it came to speed, I could ask any of the ponies in the mine. We have many fine pegasuses and earth ponies, but I fear none of them would stand up to the guiles of that lunatic. Nor would I wish to sacrifice their lives needlessly. He has shown himself to not be beneath callous murder.”

Lars took the roll of paper and pulled his suit apart to put it inside. “Well I may not match the speed of any pony, but I know this land like the back of my hand by now. I’ll find Trusty Gunner, wherever he may be.”

He had not taken the road since his first days at the mine, before ships were made to come and go, but he still remembered it. It was not a difficult route either. Fort Frostmoth lay higher in the lands than Raven Rock and was plainly visible through the forest. The guards still greeted him, but not nearly as warmly. A gloom had settled upon them, and with it came lethargy. Guards did patrol the ramparts and grounds, but debris still littered the fort from the ruined arch and the destroyed well. Lars observed it with a heavy heart. It reminded him why it was so important to find King Sombra and do away with him, once and for all.

Trusty Gunner’s office was empty, as they had expected, and his rat-like flunkey instead waited inside with a grin on his lips that somehow accentuated his ugliness even further. His face looked to have taken a beating with a blunt object one too many times. Even his teeth were crooked and his eyes pointing in the nine o’ clock direction. “What… what did you come here for?” the green pony asked, barely able to keep back his snickering.

Lars stepped in on the oval rug softening the cold, hard floor. “I have the report for Trusty Gunner. He’s not here?”

“No sir, he went out to expect a site for expanding the mine, sir,” the lackey glibbed.

The rug tingled oddly under Lars’ feet. It was familiar feeling, of magic. “I see,” Lars said and looked down at the rug with smug smile. No amount of magic would be able to touch him with the amulet around his neck. “And where can I find him?”

The lackey looked uncomprehending from the rug and up to Lars’ face. “Well, uh… a-a-a grove near the mine,” he responded with previous mirth quickly dwindling.

“You can tell Trusty Gunner that his petty tricks won’t work on me, whatever enchantment or entrapment he put on this thing.”

Lars left the lackey with a dumbfounded expression. Sensing that he should perhaps try a more active approach in stopping him, the rat-like stallion stepped on to rug in his eager to give chase. The trap sprung, and blinding light engulfed him. The lackey’s movements slowed down to an absurd movie effect of slow-motion.

It was not a long way to the grove. The main problem was finding it. With the clue he had gotten Lars could only run back towards the mine and hope the information wasn’t false. Thus, Lars investigated the area around Raven Rock. He had seen many parts of the Frozen Wasteland and knew of a few spots that could be the right one. Northeast of the mine, he found a group ponies. One was unmistakably dressed in an expensive and well-preserved doublet. The others were guards carrying torches.

“Trusty Gunner! I have your report,” Lars called out. The lavender pony turned around with eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. Lars took the report from inside his coat, and Trusty Gunner stared in disbelief between it and the human.

“Uh… thanks. I am certainly… happy that you could make it. I do apologise for leaving the fort so suddenly, but I had to see about expanding the mine. This spot looks very, um… suitable.”

The guards he had with him looked disinterested, and just as dispirited as the other ones from the fort. “Not to worry, your assistant was very helpful. I’m afraid there isn’t much to report this time around, from what I saw. Some rotten supplies that need to be returned, I think that’s about it.” Lars saluted him with a fist under his chin and a mocking smile. Trusty Gunner looked ready to tear the report up. Only professional courtesy restrained him, and even made him repay the smile briefly before turning back to his guards.

Lars turned towards the north east. His body had been warmed up for whatever lay in front of him. The Skaal village greeted him with smiles and bows. Everypony had heard of the chase and how the spirit bear had dismissed the three warriors that had gone out with him. The guards as well acknowledged his presence with courteous nods.

Korst sat as usual inside his hut, half shrouded in the darkness and looking into the scant illuminating flames. “I heard the chase was a success yesterday,” Korst said equably without looking up. “Well? What did our patron bear have to say?”

“At first he scolded you for ignoring the warning signs and for being so slow to react,” Lars replied and sat down on the opposite side of Korst.

The flames danced on the old, weathered pony’s face. “I expected at least that much. We have grown complacent over the years of peace, but we are still prepared to do what we must. Did the great spirit bear mention any solution?” Korst asked.

Lars nodded and warmed his cold hands at the fire. Only they were left unprotected by his suit. “It mentioned something about a castle called Karstaag, to the west. I would have gone straight there except I don’t know the way. Can you guide me?”

“Right you are for coming here first. You usually enter the village from the south, but it also has a western exit. It is never used as it leads across cliffs and chasms to an old castle carved out of the glacier. A jotun lives there now. His servants and he usually leave us alone, but our hunting parties have recently encountered more and more of them. Perhaps you have seen them? Rieklings we call them, little blue-skinned imps, sometimes riding boars.”

“Yeah, I think I know what you’re talking about,” Lars said and thought back to his quest for the Skaal, activating their stones. Rieklings had attacked him several times. “So why do you think that the spirit bear would want me to go there?”

“I think you’re better equipped to answer that than me. Did the spirit bear reveal anything of King Sombra’s plans?” Korst asked without looking up.

“Uh, let’s see. It mentioned that King Sombra might be kidnapping your chief and the general of the fort to draw their power. Do you think that has anything to do with it?”

“Certainly,” Korst said and fell into deep thought. His eyes were still distant when he replied. “The fact that we have not heard from King Sombra for all this time can only mean he isn’t strong enough to manifest yet. Perhaps he seeks to kidnap the jotun as well? It would explain why his servants have fallen back to their evil ways.”

“Then I must leave at once to check up on the castle. The chances are King Sombra has already been there, but perhaps there is still something I can do.”

Lars got up and made to leave but Korst sprang from his seat. “Ah, wait, hold on a minute. You will not be able to go through the front door; the jotun always keeps it closed. Our hunters report seeing rieklings go into a pool of water north of the castle, though. There is probably a cave underwater which would be your best choice, unless you could grow wings and fly to the top of the castle.”

“That would certainly be a feat.” Lars smiled at the rare humour from the old pony. As it was not returned, it became obvious Korst had been serious. Lars coughed and turned towards the outside again. “Ah, I suppose I better get going then.”

CHAPTER 6 PART 3: CASTLE KARSTAAG

Lars stopped briefly on the outskirt of the village. A long and hard road lay ahead, but it was the only way he knew. Out from the village and through a landscape dotted with snow-clad hills and mounds. He had not gone far when the wind picked up and howled in his ears like a stricken beast. The snow came right after and lashed against his face. He had lost the helmet and gloves and boots for his protective suit. Only the boots had been replaced with a golden pair during his stay in Canterlot many, many years ago.

The landscape rose steadily upwards, and the blizzard worsened. Undeterred he walked as long as there was still light for him to go by. Another sound mixed in, of running water somewhere far below him. He followed the sound very carefully. Somewhere ahead would be the edge of the land and a great chasm beyond. It was not something he was willing to fall into. Slowly he inched closer until he found it. It was wide; a gigantic crack in the ice. He moved closer towards the mountains and finally found what he needed: a sturdy bridge arching the gap.

Crossing it did not get him halfway, not by a longshot. The landscape only continued up with the cold winds howling down the mountain. His feet were tired from slogging through the snow.

There was a change in the altitude. The road drastically dropped down a steep incline. The wind lessened, and green patches were revealed through the snow. Ahead was a gigantic block of ice, looking more like a fort than anything else, just at the foot of the mountains. With renewed resolved Lars commenced the final leg of the journey.

Castle Karstaag was indeed an impregnable fort. Four gigantic towers of twisted ice slanted towards the middle from each corner. Perhaps in the long distant past, it had been a pyramid. Only the slope of the sides and the towers were left to hint at it.

The front door was carved carefully out of ice and primitively decorated with stripes and swirls. It was locked like predicted, and did not budge however much Lars tugged and pulled. Somewhere on top of the flat roof was a smaller tower with no door, but also no way of reaching. If one indeed just had wings. There was no other choice. Lars trekked around the castle to the other side. A pool of water lay there like described. Lars reached down and put a hand to it. It was warm. Likely it stemmed from a hot spring far below the ice. Then perhaps the mountains weren’t mountains at all, but volcanoes? Lars looked up at the looming, towering, threatening mountains and shivered.

His only way in was through the large puddle. How deep to the entrance? If rieklings used it, it couldn’t be too much of a problem. He held his breath and plunged in.

It was a welcome change from the biting cold of the frozen wasteland, but also a sharp contrast. Lars enjoyed it while he could and almost forgot about his mission in the pleasant feeling. A flicker of light near the bottom drew his attention again. There certainly was a hole there, and the pond wasn’t deeper than he could make the dive in the matter of thirty seconds. He drew closer, the light beckoning him.

There was nothing else visible in the water. The silhouette of a fish passed by him now and then, but was gone as quick as it came. Ever downwards he dived. The light got closer until he could see the bottom further below. Nothing but rocks and a few plants. He looked around one last time. There were no other holes, and his lungs were starting to ache for air. Lars made the final push and allowed the light to engulf him.

It was the light of torches lining the wall, he noticed as he swam up into the cave. His lungs gasped the air in several gulps while he bobbed up and down in the pool. Feeling strength come back to him again, he climbed the last stretch and collapsed on the floor. It was nice and warm, but a chill persisted to kill the mood. He could not afford to stay there. With a surge of will, Lars pushed himself back up on his feet.

It was not much further down the corridor that Lars happened upon his first enemy. A riekling; a small blue man with a deeper blue beard, dressed in skins and fur and armed with a long piece of metal fitted with a wooden grip.

“Don’t hurt me, whoever, whatever you are. I am too tired to fight back,” the ugly manling said in a nasal voice. Truly, the riekling was slumped against the wall and seemed to be resting. Red lines crossed his torso, and a fresh scar ran down his left cheek. “If you do not trust me, then strike me down now. You will find I won’t resist.”

Lars nearly dropped the mace from his hand. Rather than raise it, he put it away. “I have met a few of you in the past. What makes you different?”

“Curious, eh? Well… I’ll take at least that.” The riekling coughed and used the blade to lift himself up to a standing position. “My name is Krish, and I lead the rieklings under Karstaag’s rule. He gave understanding and language to those of us who would take it. But ever since he disappeared, Dulk took over. Dulk isn’t too bright, but he’s plenty strong. I knew I couldn’t overpower him with my few loyal soldiers alone, so I hired a band of grahls. Suffice to say I have two problems now. Listen, I don’t know why you’re here or who you are, but you must help me. I fought for my life when the grahls got out of hand, and now I would not make the swim outside.”

“I don’t have any reason to trust a riekling, but I am not a fool either. I can see you’re not faking your exhaustion, and certainly not your wounds. All right, I’ll help you, but only because I’m going the same way.”

“I suppose a thank you is in order then, though I cannot trust you either. You speak as if you have come to do war, yet you are alone. That makes you either a fool or a vanguard.”

Lars smiled at the creature. “I am neither. My name is Lars Leland and I am a human. I came here because I believe your leader is in danger. I come too late though, it would seem.”

The riekling, Krish, nodded and tottered forward. He was a stout little manling with plenty of drive. Despite his heavy wounds he still carried on. “By a week at least. I lost track down here in the tunnel. The whole place really fell to pieces without him. I feel like the only civilised riekling left in this whole world.” They turned a corner and heard a deep grunt. A large shadow fell down the corridor. An unbelievable stench of sweat and death followed.

Lars took his mace with one hand and held the other arm up to his nose. “Good lord that’s ripe. Don’t tell me…”

The grahl was also an enemy he had met before. An anthropomorphic elephant with claws of ice for fingers and toes with tusks of ice from its tapir face. Spikes grew out of its frozen, grey hide at the back. Evil shone red in its eyes. It swiped at Lars with its deadly hand.

Krish retreated back. “That’s a grahl. I think seven more of them roam around down here.”

“We’ve had the unpleasantness.”

Lars took his mace again and charged forward. The spiked head sank into the creature’s abdomen. It whined in pain and staggered back. Blood trickled down but froze from the mace’s lingering magic. Its body was like stone splintering from the force of the stahlrim mace. The creature reeled from its wounds and Lars pursued it again until it fell to the ground and moved no more.

“You are strong, human. I was strong too but now I feel limper than a wet rag. Go on and slay the grahls and return to me once it’s safe. I would only slow you down.”

“You’re kind of pushy for someone asking for help,” Lars said and shook his wrist. “Very well though, but remember, I’m not going out of my way for your sake. I would have to take care of them anyway.”

Krish waved his hand weakly and slumped against the wall again.

The way to the left was blocked by a wall of ice. Another grahl waited down the other corridor. It was the same result as with the last. Lars followed down natural caves slinking this way and that, up and down. The grahl posed little threat to his strength. It was worse on his stamina. Fortunately the grahl were smaller and weaker than the ones had once fought previously. The end came in a solid wood door inserted into the ice. It was locked and too sturdy for him to break down. Beet-faced, he returned to the riekling. His suit kept him cool, but his face was near burning up. He wiped his forehead where locks of dirty blonde hair clung.

“You look bushed,” Krish said and jumped up on his feet. “Personally I feel so much better. I shall assist you however I can from here on in.”

Lars took a moment to regain his breath and turned around. “If that isn’t too much to ask for,” he said, and they were moving again. “Did I hear you right calling the jotun for Karstaag? I thought that was the name of the castle?”

“We don’t know what the castle was called before he moved in, so we named the castle after him. Seems like the ponies adopted the name as well.” The manling had trouble keeping up with Lars and ran to compensate for the difference in leg length. “These caves lead directly to the banquet hall. Dulk’s main force will be there.”

Back through the tunnels they went and came again to the locked door. In front of it lay another dead grahl. The creatures had been unable to get through the door even with their strong arms and legs. The deep scratches in the wood attested to the fact. Krish stepped out around the beast and took a key from around his neck. He had to jump up to get it into the keyhole.

The banded door swung inwards to reveal a storage room. Barrels on the left side filled with drinks and crates of food on the right, enough for a small army. For rieklings it would probably last longer, but for a giant it could be a short supply only. The cold was stronger. Lars opened the door in the other end of the storage room. The entire castle was made of ice. His suit kept him warm but it was harsh conditions for his exposed face and hands.

The banquet hall was enormous. A table in the middle easily took up half the space, and a chandelier shaped like a glowing sun provided most of the light. All of it also made of ice. Only standing torches in the corners weren’t, instead made of bones with flames licking out of grinning skulls. They were not ponies, nor humans.

Around the table sat a gathering of rieklings, six of them, feasting and drinking. Krish took his blade in his small little hand as he peered out of the door. “We’re in luck. Looks like most of them are out hunting.” He looked up at Lars. “Why are you helping me, human? You came to check on Karstaag, and I’ve already told you he isn’t here.”

“I’m also hoping to find some clues about King Sombra, and besides, I’ve already come this far. Might as well see this through to the end.” Lars took his mace in hand. It was if possible colder than the castle.

“I see. I guess I should thank you again, then. Thank you,” Krish said with a bow. “The ponies would not help me. I can hardly blame them since rieklings frequently make a sport of challenging their hunting parties. Let’s just do this and get it over with.”

Krish stormed ahead. The first riekling was down before it could do anything. Another two drew their sword too later. The wounds did not slow down Krish in the least. Lars joined in behind him and went around the table. The remaining three rieklings did not know who to attack, but Lars seemed the bigger threat. They jumped him in unison. The mace flung one of them far away. The last two stabbed him with their swords, uselessly, as they could not get through the suit. Striking once and twice, they fell to the ground. Lars relaxed his hand and rested his mace down his legs.

“Good thing they were all drunk, eh?”

“This is no time to relax. Dulk isn’t among these, so he must be in the throne room. Come on.”

The blue manling scampered towards the door in front of the table. The hallway curved and they stood in the entrance hall. On their left was the door outside. Further in was the throne room, a much smaller room where a handful of rieklings were prepared with swords and some with primitive lances as well. On top of the dais, on a throne of ice, sat a riekling with a young face behind his small beard. His hand made a simple gesture and the rieklings lowered their weapons again. They made no attempts at fighting but instead scowled at Krish.

Dulk didn’t get up and sat passively with a bored expression. “I see you survived your foolish coup with the grahls. Did this creature help you?” he asked and turned his piercing glare to Lars.

“He wants to know about master’s disappearance,” Krish answered, still with blade in hand but pointed at the ice ground. “Perhaps you know something?”

“Why did you come here, you fool? You would have been better off escaping while you could,” Dulk said, and the guards raised their weapons again.

“Look, I don’t care about you strife so could you put your differences aside for just one moment?” Lars asked. Dulk rolled his eyes and gestured again. “Thank you. Did you notice anything odd about the abduction? Did the werewolves say anything?”

“The abduction of my master? Yes, certainly it was werewolves who did it, but what would be stranger than that?” Still, Dulk looked away to think. “They thought us beneath their notice. Our weapons could barely scratch them, and most of us can’t even understand pony speech. Nasty, arrogant creatures. Dulk spits on them! You want to know more? How about this: have you ever thought about where werewolves come from?”

Lars paused at the question. “Uh… I’m afraid I don’t understand. Werewolves come from being bitten by other werewolves?” he replied.

Dulk shook his head. “Yes, that is how they duplicate themselves, but do you know where they go when not hunting?”

As Lars was quiet, Dulk continued. “The ponies think they know every inch of the frozen wasteland. Miserable, blind creatures! They might tell you that King Sombra is nowhere in the physical world… do not believe them. There are places where ponies do not go, where even we rieklings dare not go. Forbidden places. Places of evil. They exist, physically, within this land.”

“So how do I find him?”

Dulk pondered but twisted his face into a grimace of anger. “Questions, nothing but questions! How do you expect me to answer them all? Dulk is just a small riekling; master does not tell us all. He only warns us of places not to go and of events to happen. Long ago he tasted the air and then he knew. He told us of King Sombra and his defeat, and how his wretched spirit still lingers. But not for much longer. The evil king has finally taken the three sacrifices he needs. Soon he will feel bold enough to appear in the flesh, but only once all obstacles have been disposed of.”

Lars clenched his free left fist and looked at it thoughtfully. “Me,” he said. “When he feels strong enough, he will abduct me as well and kill me.”

Dulk nodded and sprang up on his feet. “Most likely. You… you are strong if you can kill eight grahls. Or perhaps you just have a strong weapon.” He turned his gaze to Krish. “You will go with this man, or we will kill you now. Castle Karstaag is no longer your home. You get no other chances, you traitor.”

“I could not stand to see you defile master’s castle another moment longer. I will leave with the human and make my own riekling home. When master returns he will praise Krish and not Dulk.” Not waiting for a reply, Krish wheeled around and stormed down the corridor. Lars looked up to the throne. Dulk stared back with hard eyes.

“I hope you find King Sombra,” the riekling said and sat down again. “It would be troublesome if he was allowed to enslave this world.”

“Will you keep your people from attacking the Skaal, and any other ponies?” Lars asked, attention devoted solely to Dulk. Not even the rustling of weapons around him from impatient rieklings fazed him.

“I can make no such promise. From the start, the lives of ponies have had little interest to Dulk, but we rieklings no longer enjoy our master’s unity. There are hunting parties out there with their own leaders. All I can do is defend this castle.” Dulk cut the air with a swipe of his hand, and the rieklings advanced with their weapons pointed ahead of them. Lars took a few steps back and retreated out of the castle.

CHAPTER 6 AFTER-PART: RAZING THE FOREST

The Skaal village had not changed at all. His actions had had no impact on their lives. It was for that reason he had gone; so that the ponies of the Frozen Wasteland, of the Crystal Empire, and everywhere else could live their lives in peace. And now he was one step closer. Korst was thoughtful and tapped his muzzle. “I would not normally trust a riekling, but this Dulk does speak my mind. There are many places completely inaccessible to us that wolves could get to more easily. If King Sombra comes for you next, then you ought to be better prepared,” he said in his mystical, far-away voice.

Lars drummed his fingers on the mace by his hip. He had learnt not to touch the head. “I have the mace. That will kill anything in my path… I’ve proven that.”

Korst shook his head. “The Mace of Aevar Stone-Singer has accompanied you well on your journey, but it will only get you so far. We Skaal sit on another treasure that I think will come in more hoofy for you.” Korst got up from his bench and into the darkness. His hut looked small, but from the clattering it sounded like he used every inch of it, piled high with objects of metal and stone, and with heavy objects and lighter objects, all crashing down around him. “Ah, here we are. I knew it was around here in this corner.”

“What… a sword? I definitely have more experience and technique with that, if I can still recall any of my uh… previous times with one.” Lars accepted the blade resting on Korst’s front hooves. A longsword of stalhrim fitted with an elaborate steel guard. As soon as Lars took it in his hands the blade burst into flame.

Korst pulled back from the human to the edge of the light, but there was no more shadow to hide in. The flames of the sword burned so brightly it dispelled all the darkness. Every nook and cranny of the tiny hut was revealed to be piled high with pots and pans, with old bones and crystal balls, with weapons and armour of steel and ice and wood and stone and glass, and with tools to hammer and screw and file.

Lars waved the sword around, Korst’s trembling eyes following the flames. “You… you actually did it. The Longsword of Flames is actually burning again, after all these hundreds of years.” The old shaman laughed in disbelief though he couldn’t take his eyes off it. “Congratulations, Lars Leland. You have achieved the highest honour we Skaal can bestow upon an outsider, or even one of our own. I would ask you to lead us but, knowing you, you would probably turn me down.”

“Well, I appreciate the gesture at least. Don’t worry; I’ll get you your leader back. Mm, this is a very nice sword. Is it really okay for me to just take it?”

“Yes, by the All-Maker, take it. Wars against unspeakable beasts have been won with that thing, and blood has been lost. But no one has been found worthy to ignite the flames of it for so long I nearly thought it a myth myself.” Korst had to sit down right there on the floor; the light showing every wrinkle in his aging face. Lars nodded impressed and put the sword into the belt around his waist, and the fire went out. He unhooked the mace and handed it over.

“Stahlrim sure is amazing though. The flames are so hot I can feel it in the hilt, but none of the ice is melting. It just… warms the sword up. It really is quite unbelievable.”

Without the flames, the room once again descended into darkness. “I will leave the fate of our land with you then,” Korst spoke solemnly, apprehension taking him. “The All-Maker knows you’re the last we can entrust with this task. All other capable have been taken from us.”

“King Sombra made a mistake not coming for me before.” Lars clutched the pommel of the sword until his knuckles whitened and his hand shook. He put it into his belt. “I’m ready to put him away forever.”

The return trip to the mine was disquieting; it was as if nature itself could feel the coming conclusion. Jittery birds screeched to the sky at the slightest disturbance. Wolves skulked around at the edge of the periphery. Most other animals were already hiding. The tension was palpable; making Lars’ heart hammer in his chest. The road back tripled in length. Not only did it feel longer, Lars was also hotter and sweating worse than he ever did. The fear of the unknown was a heavy blanket that had been laid over the world. Grey skies shut out the light and bitter winds howled to the bone.

He stood at the edge at the colony and immediately saw something was wrong. Ponies ran around in confusion. The cause was not immediately clear. Still Lars pressed on and entered the mining town. Something caught him across the face, making him stumble back. It took him a moment to realise it was a branch. The tree hissed at him. It was shaped like a pony and the branch was its tail. “More friends from the past,” he said and drew his sword. The flames made the tree pony cower with a wail like that of the wind whistling through a hole in a tree. “You don’t like that, do you?”

One swing of the sword. The blade cut through its body and the flames set it ablaze. It did not regenerate. Instead it burned with the crackle of firewood.

There was some construction on the east edge of town where Lars entered from. Wooden support beams leant up against half-finished walls of stone. Two more tree ponies roamed around there. The miners had pickaxes and shovels in their mouth. The laughter from the tree ponies were unnervingly pony, like a foal giggling.

The workers looked up as Lars approached and retreated. The tree ponies stopped laughing and looked toward him as well. The flames danced on the blade still. His face was half illuminated and half cast in shadows. The tree ponies hissed angrily and rustled with their leafy manes. The first of the two pounced him. The sword cleft her like an axe, clean in two. The halves fell to the ground and burned.

The second opened its carved eyes wide in shock. It tried backing away, but the miners formed a wall behind it. It tried running to the left. Lars was quicker and decapitated it along with its shoulder and half its chest. “Are there any more?” Lars asked to the crowd. They all pointed their tools toward the inn up behind them. “Thank you.”

Behind the inn ran a low stone wall around the whole colony. A bright yellow unicorn stood on top of it. A tree pony hissed at him from beneath. It swiped its long, deadly claws on its hoof at him while he blasted it with ineffective spells. It only hissed more angrily.

“Ah! A little help here, please?” the unicorn asked. His mane was long and the same colour as his coat, drawn back into a tail. His cutie mark was a scroll with flowers printed on it.

The tree pony completely lost interest in him. Instead it charged at Lars. He stabbed it through its exposed chest and twisted the blade. The anger was etched into the wooden doll’s face. It fell off his sword and broke into flaming pieces before it could hit the ground. The young unicorn colt jumped down and smiled brightly.

“I cannot tell you how happy I am you came by. I was hired recently to take care of some pesky roots… being an expert on plant life and all. I have never seen or even heard of these things before though. Did you save me a specimen?”

Lars shook his head and returned the sword to his belt. “I’m afraid not. Turns out they really don’t like fire.” Melon stumbled towards them, panting. The heavy weather was also taking a toll of him. Or perhaps he was just as stressed out as usual. “What’s up with you? You look worse than usual.”

Melon looked around until he found the charred remains. He breathed a deep sigh and wiped his forehead. “I nearly had a heart attack when I heard that trees were attacking the colony, and just as you were away too. Ah, and I see you met the biologist I hired. I want you to escort him down into the mines and have a look at those roots.” The young unicorn beamed at his mention. Melon continued in a lower tone so that Lars had to bow down. “The miners can take care of themselves if anything should happen… I am not so sure about this guy.”

The young unicorn poked his hooves at the charcoal left of the tree pony. It crumbled into the dust that the wind blew away. “My name is Opulence Brilliant, a recently graduated biologist, a pleasure to meet you.” He wiped the soot from his hooves and extended an arm. Lars took it in a handshake. “Shall we get going? As much as those living trees fascinate me, I’m afraid you didn’t leave me with much.”

“Lars will be with you in a moment,” Melon interjected and led Lars into an alley between the inn and an indeterminate square of building. He took a moment’s silence before breathing deeply. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Lars, so I will be blunt. I am not so sure your friend is alive anymore. Every day more colour returns to him, but I don’t see lustre or pulse or breathing… I fear it’s residual stahlrim that’s preserving him and nothing else.”

“I… I know. He’s still so cold to my touch despite the fire being kept in his hut. But you can’t ask me to abandon him until I am absolutely certain. We will know in a few days whether he’s alive or not, once the last magic of the stahlrim has worn off,” Lars said in a soft voice. There were tears behind his eyes that could not get out.

“I will respect that for as long as we can sacrifice the space. Your service for the mine is invaluable and I would not do this for anyone else. Just as long as you know it’s a slim hope.” Melon retained eye contact, even as Lars hung his head.

Lars put a hand on Melon’s head and offered a weak smile. “Forgive an old fool for his eccentricities. Will you promise to keep respecting my wish even if something happens to me?”

“I doubt there is anything dangerous down in the mine right now. Though with the air this heavy, I feel like something could jump us from behind every bush. I’m out of breath just talking with you.”

“I’ll see what I can do about it. It will all be over soon, one way or the way.” Lars left with his weak smile, but it faded out of sight of Melon, and it was a much more serious human that escorted the young biologist to the mine.

Author's Note

Again I have devoted a lot of time to this yet it still feels rushed in parts. And I still have... one, two... three chapters left?

Chapter 7: King Sombra

I got an audition with the spirit bear, patron of the Skaal, and was told to go to Castle Karstaag. There I found the eponymous jotun gone. His servants, the wretched little rieklings, dissolved their unity in his absence which explains the hunting parties I’ve stumbled upon in the Frozen Wasteland. All I can do now is to wait for King Sombra to approach me. His plans are nearing their last stage. He just needs to get me out of the way, the last person with some semblance of strength and a hope of opposing him. My troubles with the mine seem almost trifling in comparison. Trusty Gunner almost had Melon fired on a technicality he himself created, and then weird tree ponies attacked the colony. All the while, my friend still isn’t waking up. I’m starting to think he never will.

CHAPTER 7: KING SOMBRA

Lars was sleeping in his own bed for once. He had stopped the vigils over his friend and accepted there was nothing he could do. As warmth returned to Ulrich’s body, so did colour. Marbling of the skin, bluing of the lips and fingernails… Ulrich was dead and dying. Fear, anxiousness and hate troubled Lars’ sleep. It was the middle of the night and his eyes shot awake. He thought at first it a nightmare. Alertness crashed into him and left him dizzy and confused. He could not make out his surroundings at first but the panting following him into the real world. It was real.

Several pairs of glowing eyes stared at him out of the darkness. Gigantic lupine forms sat around the floor of his small room. Heart hammering up in his throat, Lars sat upright in his bed and pressed himself against the wall. His suit was dragged down to his waist and his soft, tender flesh was exposed. But the amulet was still there around his neck. It was the only thing that even allowed him to sleep in the first place. Its magic was calming, keeping him from panicking, but not his heart from beating almost out of his chest.

The wolves parted and allowed a bigger one to come to the front. Its eyes were not wild or beastly like the others. It simply sat down by the bed and stared up at Lars. “We have come for you, as I am sure you are already aware of.”

Lars nodded and relaxed. “If King Sombra wants me dead, why not kill me here?” he asked. “What is it you want of me?”

“We only take our orders, not question them,” the wolf replied in its deep voice. An old stallion hid underneath the fur. “You knew this day would come, and our master graciously gave you time to prepare. Now tell me, will you come willingly? Or do we need to get persuasive? Our master only told us to bring you alive.”

Lars got up from the bed and put his feet into his boots. The other werewolves snarled at the hints of hostility in his movements, but their leader remained seated. The two locked eyes in a contest of wills. “I will go with you, and I will vanquish your master, once and for all,” Lars said and looked up, out at the other wolves. They bared their teeth at him. The amulet was warm and comforting against his skin, so it was with a sure heart that he spoke again. “I am ready. Take me where I need to go.”

Something of a smile came over the leader werewolf. “Then we will take you, but we cannot walk. It is too far.” The leader stepped into the middle of the room with Lars behind him. The circle of werewolves closed around them. “Here we go.”

The world disappeared. For a moment, Lars could see nothing, not even darkness. The amulet could do nothing to subdue the terror of blindness, even lasting only seconds. Lars felt ground beneath him again, but his face was white as a sheet and drenched in sweat. Slowly he regained his composure, the amulet helping a great deal of the way. A terrible presence unseen however quickly chilled him to the bone and dispelled any sort of comfort he had had.

He had come to a corridor of stone encroached by ice. It would not take the floor, but walls of freezing white and blue barred his way to the sides and to the back. Down the hallway the ice funnelled him to a pair of stairs leading up to a platform. There stood King Sombra himself, a grey unicorn with a pitch black mane and red eyes and horn, clad in steel armour with a regal coat billowing behind his back. His forked tongue whipped out to lick his lips.

“Yes, crystals!” he said in a deep, sibilant tone. “My crystal slaves.”

King Sombra turned right around and disappeared into a black cloud, blowing away from Lars. The human barely noticed the pony before he was gone again. “Hey! Hold up.”

“It is of no use. The king sold his soul, and his mind, a long time ago to the dark powers of crystals. I’m not even sure you can call him a pony anymore.”

“Wha–?” Lars was halfway up the stone steps when the light blinded him and nearly sent him falling back down again.

“We don’t have much time. King Sombra wants you dead before the plan reaches its final leg, when something unheard of will happen in a small town called Ponyville.” A sphere appeared out of the light. Swirl the Smart, Swirl the Swift, or just plain old Butterscotch, was trapped inside, his cheek pressed against the side. “When that happens, I too will break from this bubble and then the world will be mine. But no reason for any haste, I assure you. I will still have to wait for the coronation ceremony for it to be official.”

Lars took the arm away from his eyes and looked up at the trapped Butterscotch with baleful eyes. “You will never get out of that bubble. You’re trapped on the bottom of the sea in the ruins of your old lab, and there you will stay.”

“You underestimate me, my friend. I could break out anytime I wanted, but truth be told, I’m just waiting… waiting for the birth of a new princess. It’s going to happen tonight! Until then, I will be all yours. We make quite a good team.”

“I will accept your help, because I know you’re bluffing. Besides, you’re right, it’s about time you did something helpful with your life.”

Butterscotch smiled so eerily even Lars had a moment of doubt. “Shall we get going then?” Butterscotch asked. Lars grunted and waved a hand at the bubble. It gently floated past him. “I hope you’re ready. This place is the seat of King Sombra’s power. Plenty of big, bad wolves.”

Lars went through the stone arch to the next area. The situation was reversed, and ice covered the floor while the walls of stone were untouched. A chilling sensation crept down his neck. From his vantage point, the layout of the room before him was clear. He had entered a maze where dozens of werewolves crept. Below him, however, sat a pony up against a wall. The earth pony looked like he had been dipped in blood and equipped with steel armour after.

“I don’t believe this. Captain Crush?” Lars called out and rushed down the steps.

The strong, trustworthy-looking pony looked up and smiled weakly. In truth, the redness of his coat was merely his natural colour, fit for the captain of Fort Frostmoth, the Equestrian outpost in the Frozen Wasteland. He clutched to his sword for support to get himself up. His armour was dented and ripped, and one eye was clenched shut. “Well, well, if it isn’t the human. Come to save me, have you?” the captain asked and chortled, quickly turning to coughs. “I have no idea where this place is, but there is no way out. Believe me, I’ve tried for days, but the damn werewolves get me every time. All the while it feels like some mysterious power is draining my strength. Weird, huh?”

“King Sombra brought you here weeks ago, not mere days. Time must run differently down here. Or perhaps it just feels that way?”

Captain Crush’s eyes went wide, and he nearly fell over again, had Lars gripped him in time. “The King? Impossible, the wielders of the elements vanquished him months ago.” There was nothing in Lars’ eyes or face to suggest a joke, so Crush bowed his head. “I see. We should have known it would be harder than that to get rid of him. And if it has been weeks, then I really need to get out of here.”

“I didn’t expect to meet you here, but I am glad I did. I thought for sure he had already done you in.” Lars helped the captain stand up. With one hoof on his steel longsword, he somehow managed.

“Don’t be too happy, I doubt I can be of much help to you. I’ve eaten what little grows here, and I’m tired and I’m hungry.” The captain coughed again, nearly knocking him down again.

“I think I have found the way out,” Butterscotch said and hovered in between the two. Crush’s sword slipped from under him and sent him belly first into the ice. “The door is locked though, but I also saw a chest. It would seem this place is a gauntlet to wear out whoever is trapped in here so that King Sombra can lap up their strength.”

“You keep some strange company, I must say. Who is this?” the captain asked and looked up at the bubble reflected in his eyes.

“You look a little worn out. Like this you won’t be of any help, and I doubt you’d survive here much longer. Allow me.”

Butterscotch shot a beam of light from his horn and engulfed the captain in a warm aura. At once, the captain got up with his own strength without shaking. He looked perplexed down at himself, up at Butterscotch and then to Lars.

“What just happened?”

Lars shook his head and drew his sword. “That’s too long a story, but perhaps I’ll tell you someday. When we get out of here. Just follow the bubble, it knows where to go.” Lars looked up at Butterscotch and saw a frown crease the trapped unicorn’s brow.

“I am not just a bubble, I’ll have you know, nor some fairy in a bottle you can conveniently release whenever you need it.” With an injured ‘hmph’ Butterscotch sailed through the air off to the right.

The walls curved in half circles and led them around the spherical maze. The dead ends were small, square rooms that looked mostly like werewolf sleeping cots. Hay were strewn over the ice and cluttered with bones, and at least one werewolf hid in each. Bigger than normal wolves with a coat as black as the night tinged with grey like steel and red eyes glowing demonically.

Butterscotch remained floating over their heads. Lars had his stahlrim longsword. The flames danced on his blade as he swung it and cut through the lupine menace. Captain Crush was by his side with his regular sword, slicing and hacking and doing everything he could to follow up. They were not attacked by just one or two at the time. Up to five ganged up on them.

They ran around the circular maze after Butterscotch. Down side corridors came more werewolves. Lars’ sword cut through them. They tried to bite him and scratch him, but the amulet reinforced his suit with magic. The only problem was the large number, wearing down on him. Without the captain, Lars would have been sore pressed to do it alone. They found a key in a chest in one of the niches, sheltered by an ambush of wolves.

The goal was a platform in the middle. They kept coming closer only to being forced away again, waving and weaving through the labyrinth. Werewolves sprang at them, at least twenty in all, coming from behind and in front. Killing one only gave room for another two to attack. Lars and the captain fought back to back. Now and then a light shone from Butterscotch’s horn and blinded the attackers, allowing the two another few precious moments.

Finally they touched upon the stone floor. Captain Crush was if possible even more worn out and ragged than before.

“It’s no good, Mr Leland, I can’t possibly go any further.” He collapsed right then and there on the platform. His helmet was long lost and his short, crimson mane was matted with sweat.

Lars took a moment as well and leant up against the wall. There was no blood on his blade. It all burned away with the flames. “You want me to just go on without you?”

“You don’t have a choice; it seems your friend’s spell doesn’t last particularly long. I can feel the new fatigue gathering on the old and it’s not a good pain. But I’m glad I had the chance to fight alongside you. We really mopped the floor with those mutts.”

Lars wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his arm. “That we did. This room should be safe for now, but I think you should stay on the platform for now.” He grinned and forced himself off the wall. “Unless you want to brave the maze on your own.”

Captain Crush lay flat on his belly with all four limbs stretched out. “I could not move an inch even if you prodded me with a red-hot poker. Give the king a slash from me, you hear?” The captain chortled and planted his face on the ground.

The door unlocked with the key they had found. Behind it were stairs leading down into a small room. Cheating was prevented and Lars could not see the extent of the new maze, if it indeed was one. Of course, Butterscotch had not been calibrated into the building in ancient past. His bubble drifted off to survey the surroundings. An earth pony stood next to the stairs with an orange coat and a green mane, wearing a full suit of metal armour that doubled his appearance. “Heart-Fang!”

“W-who are you?” Heart-Fang asked confused. The pony looked up with dazed eyes.

Lars stopped up, not knowing what to say. Heart-Fang was otherwise in good condition with not even a scratch to either him or his armour. “It’s me, Lars Leland. You were going to make me honorary Skaal not long ago before you were kidnapped,” Lars said replied. “You don’t look too roughed up?”

“Right, of course, I remember you now. You’re the one who completed all those tests.” He got up with some difficulty on his legs. “Sorry, my mind’s been a little confused. How long have I been here?”

“Only about a week or so. Do you feel up for getting out of here?”

Heart-Fang bit into the hilt of his sword and drew it. “Lead the way.”

Butterscotch drifted back into the view before they could enter the maze. “Be careful. Got a whole bunch of them descending on us.” No sooner said than done, a pack of four big werewolves hurried down the corridor with three more pouring out of niches. The Longsword of Flames ignited with killing lust and hacked left and right. The werewolves yammered in pain as blood and fur sprayed everywhere. Blood also dripped from Heart-Fang’s sword. “Good, you survived, but don’t think this is the end. This maze is bigger than the last and there are even more of the werewolves here. I can’t find any chests or keys though, so the door probably isn’t locked.”

Lars was already feeling the strain in his arm. The sword was heavy but it met little resistance with each swing. Whether it was the flames or the sharpness or the magic was impossible to tell. The two of them circled around the outer area of the ring, running back and forth to find the next doorway that would let them closer. A wrong turn did not end blindly until they had wasted several minutes and fought at least a few werewolves. They came to the middle area after a long time of fighting.

The space was wide open with walls surrounded by macabre statues of werewolves, pouncing and biting and preying. They went to the stone platform in the middle, raised by no more than the height of the plates themselves. Lars tried the door in the middle, but it would not yield despite his hard tugging hard at the ring. Ominous cracking sounds filled the air, soon replaced with howls and the noise of running. The statues came to life all around them. From everywhere the werewolves bore down on the stone platform. Lars stood steady though his heart hammered. The amulet soothed his tiredness and his body seemed to move on its own.

The sword ignited and went work. The first wave of werewolves was all cut down in rapid succession. The next was upon him before he could even react and knocked him to the ground. They bit at his arms and boots and clawed at his hands and face. He thrust the point up in their chests and jaws and kicked them off him. He got up again and continued the assault. The werewolves danced around them. Heart-Fang and his blade were drenched in blood. Lars could feel it caking on his cheeks as well. It was warm and restricting but still he carried on.

Every single werewolf that King Sombra had left was squeezed out of holes and crevices. Was there no end to his resources? Lars had almost wandered in his mind and allowed his arms to do their job when a hoof reared up to touch his shoulder. Lars pointed the blade down on the stone. Clarity came back to him.

“What’s going on? Is it over?”

“Almost. There is only werewolf left,” Heart-Fang said. He fell back down on the ground as Lars spun around. His pony shape expanded so that it broke his armour. Coarse, black fur covered him from top to toe. His hoofs became claws. Lars took a few steps back as the process completed and a large wolf stood before him instead of the Skaal leader.

“No… don’t tell me they got to you too.”

“I am really sorry about this, human. If you would have just accepted the bite of my kin we could have hunted together.” Heart-Fang’s voice had become deep and beastly, sounding more like articulate snarling. He gurgled with melancholic laughter. “It is too late for me now. King Sombra has my mind and my will.”

Unable to make the first blow, Lars instead received it as the werewolf Heart-Fang snapped at his arm. Lars half-heartedly swung his blade and Heart-Fang sprang back. The two watched each other closely for an opening. “We don’t have much time. Once he has turned, there is no turning back,” Butterscotch hissed whisperingly from inside his bubble.

Lars took a few steps forwards with the tip of his sword pointed at the werewolf. “I really don’t want to do this, but Butterscotch is right. If there was anything I could do, I swear, but… is there really no hope for you?”

Heart-Fang’s eyes grew feral and the pony was last in the madness. Such was the curse of the werewolf. Those with a kind heart would only be swallowed, while those already evil would find power. Heart-Fang was gone and in his stead was only an enraged beast. The battle could begin in earnest.

Heart-Fang’s former training was gone and wildness had taken his actions. He had become a savage beast strong of power and relentless in attacks. Lars slashed the sword up and cut away a clump of fur. Heart-Fang weaved inside and went straight for the throat. A heart-stopping moment went by where all Lars could see was the drooling jaw coming closer. Blinding light flashed out. Heart-Fang fell back.

“Pull yourself together! This wolf is no longer a pony and never will be. Best you can do for him is put him down, like a rabid beast,” Butterscotch yelled.

Lars clenched his sword tightly and allowed the magic of the talisman calm him. His eyes were hard as steel. The resolve surprised even the wolf. The slash was only narrowly avoided and painted a burning streak up through its fur. The sensation of being both burned and frozen at the same time made Heart-Fang wince more than the sting. “I will get King Sombra for this. I swear, you will be the last pony he ever hurts.”

The deadly jaw settled on his arm, trying to drag him down. It was Lars’ sword arm and he could not retaliate. Instead Lars kicked out with golden boots. The werewolf sprang back and howled. Lars charged forward. They jumped and met each other in midair. Lars fell on the stone and rolled a ways. Heart-Fang landed on his feet.

Butterscotch grumbled and descended on Lars. The human was still breathing and stirring. A claw was embedded inside his suit close to his throat. Butterscotch stared in surprise as Lars got up on hands and knees with a moan. A spray of blood rained down on the bubble and completely obscured Butterscotch’s vision.

Heart-Fang still stood, ice climbing over his body except for his neck where flames kept the wound up and the blood gushing out. The ice froze his heart and the blood stopped. Ice covered him completely and then broke, shattering him into tiny fragments. All that was left of him was a key in the mess of gore.

“You certainly know how to get a job done. Very impressive.”

“Can you do to me what you did to Captain Crush?” Lars staggered towards the key, dragging the sword behind him. His legs and hands shook.

“I can’t actually take your weariness away, you know,” Butterscotch warned and floated around his head. “I can only make you forget it. You won’t actually be refreshed.”

Lars grinned. “Always doing a haphazard job,” he said and nearly collapsed as he stooped to pick up the key.

Butterscotch grunted. “The strain could likely kill you when the spell is over.” He hovered down to meet Lars’ eyes as the human knelt down. “Are you willing to take that chance?”

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Finally, Lars nodded. “What do I have to live for anyway? I can’t go home, my daughter is now a pony because of obscure laws of interdimensional travelling, and my best friend is more than likely dead. Come to think of it, those are all your fault somehow. It would be fitting if I died because of you.” There was a hint of sarcasm in Lars’ face, and an edge of bitterness to his voice.

“Very well, but you were warned.” Butterscotch rotated his bubble so his horn was pointed down at Lars. The same light as before engulfed the human, and almost instantly he stood up tall again. “Now get going before the spell wears off.”

Lars did not need telling twice. Feeling light as a feather, he bounded for the door in the middle and ripped it open and sprinted down the stairs. There was only a corridor at the bottom, like the one he had entered from, no more mazes. The room was no smaller, though, and the immensity was downright crushing. Enormous stone ribs spread across the ceiling like some skeletal beast. The ice encroached on the stone floor but had only managed to swallow the walls.

In the middle stood a beast like a pony, but many times their normal size. Its hoofs were clawed and gnarled horns spiralled up from the sides of its elongated head with several layers of eyes. The blue fur covering it gave the beast a beard and a wild mane.

“Let me guess. That’s the jotun, Karstaag?” Lars asked and paused with sword still in hand. It roared in response so the ceiling shook and cold powder fell down Lars’ neck.

Butterscotch preferred to hang back behind the human. “That would be him. Normally he’s quite the friendly sort, I tell you. He was really happy when I set him up with King Sombra’s old pad.” The beast, Karstaag, lumbered forward, all of its many eyes blind with fury. “Maybe that’s why King Sombra has it out for the old frost giant. Payment for taking care of the old castle.”

Lars backed away towards the exit but found bars blocking the stairs. He held his blade out in front of him. “Great, but what do I do about the present danger?” The sword blazed up, the flames dancing in the enraged jotun’s eyes. “This thing is very big and very angry. He does not look to be communicative right now.”

Karstaag charged and Lars sprang aside. The jotun rammed into the stairs. Ice and stone fell down around his ears. The exit was completely blocked off with debris. All Karstaag did was shake its head, stunned just long enough for Lars to put some distance between them. “He’s old and weak is what he is. Just get up from behind and give him a good thumping.”

The beastly body of Karstaag was mostly for show and availed him little. His maddened state and his horns made him into an oversized bull charging from one to the other with Lars scampering to get out of the way. Karstaag pounded into the walls with force so that the room shook. Lars leapt up on its back and hacked away. Red lines crossed its neck and back. While it resisted the frost of the stahlrim, it could do nothing against the flames but howl in pain. Though he tried, Lars could not stab through the thick hide and fur, so he continued slashing away.

Karstaag threw him off, panting with rage. Its fur was matted with blood from deep wounds that were still too shallow. It approached carefully. Lars was still picking himself off the ground. The clawed hooves smashed down. He rolled out of the way and scrambled up on his feet. Karstaag tried again and again to stomp him flat.

Lars stopped. The hoof came down, big and menacing. He swerved in the last moment and ran under the jotun with sword held up. It ran along the length of the belly, one end to the other. Karstaag shook with fury and howled in pain. Its knees buckled with Lars barely escaping from under it. White crystals formed over its blood-drenched body. Beautiful flowers of deadly ice covered the frost giant. Its very being broke down to its core components. It finally exploded in a chill mist. Lars toppled from the blast and fell spread-eagled on the ground, panting with joy.

“We did it!” he exclaimed and laughed from deep within. “So what’s going to happen now?”

“It is night over Equestria and a new princess has been born. I’m going to leave, that’s what will happen.” Butterscotch grinned and flew over Lars’ face.

“But we haven’t even faced off against King Sombra yet. Won’t you stay at least for that?” Lars asked as he sat up.

Butterscotch did not say anything, but simply stared down at the human. The other end of the hall lit up so Lars had to shield his face. Translucent, purple crystals broke out of the ice and the stone. Lars felt the vibrations beneath him and moved just as one appeared from below him. King Sombra stood where the light had been, looking out over-exultant at the room. “Crystals!”

“Looks like I will have to stay, but only because I like you. I don’t think you can do this alone.”

“Gee, I appreciate that. I thought you had somewhere to be?”

“Well, the princess has to be coronated first, and she will be an easier mark when she’s back in Ponyville.” Butterscotch attempted a shrug, but all he managed was a slight twitch. “I can wait the week or two it takes for her to get back.”

“Crystals!”

King Sombra pounded his hooves into the floor. A shockwave of energy rippled through the room. Lars was against thrown off his feet. The crystals shattered and orbs of light gushed out. King Sombra raised his head and closed his eyes as they all came to him. His serpentine laughter filled the room. The glimmering globes swirled around the king until he was engulfed in a purple haze.

Lars staggered to his feet, feeling the spell beginning to wane and his former tiredness return, compounding on top of the weariness he had accumulated under the spell. “What is he doing?” he asked.

Butterscotch drifted back to Lars and sat on his shoulder. “Transforming, I should say. He’s got a lot power from all the ponies and creatures he had gathered here,” he replied.

The haze lifted and King Sombra was gone. In his stead was a grey bear. The mantle of King Sombra had become a red spot on its back. His single horn was still there, and his eyes glowed green with purple smoke wafting from him. The Sombra bear reared on its hind legs and roared. It was double the size of Lars.

“All right, that looks easy enough, strong but slow. You should be able to avoid his attacks easily so lay into him,” Butterscotch encouraged, floating away again.

The bear fell back on all four and lumbered forward. It was smaller than Karstaag, and slower. Lars circled around it. His sword found its soft fur easily. There was no blood. King Sombra was no longer a creature of flesh. The flames bit through the bear exterior and into the gaseous core. The bear swiped with its paw. The force was enough to send Lars reeling, but the claws could not get through the suit. Still, the blow knocked the wind out of Lars. With head ringing, Lars almost had his face chomped off by powerful jaws. Instinctively he thrust the blade up into the belly as the bear stood up to snack on his scalp.

King Sombra dissolved into smoke and drew back to the platform. A wolf instead appeared, coloured like the bear with grey fur, a red splotch on its back and a horn protruding from its forehead.

“Better be careful with that one, it looks fast,” Butterscotch remarked from under the ceiling. “Though also a tad weaker. You could probably defeat it with one swing, if you can hit it.”

Easier said than done. Lars could barely see its movements. One second King Sombra was snarling on the platform, the next his jaws were clamped around Lars’s left arm. Lars brought down the blade but the wolf was gone. Lars turned around. There it was, sprinting up at him again. Lars held out his sword. The flames sent the wolf back with a deep growl.

The wolf disappeared. Its claws could be heard clicking and clacking against the stone and ice, but the echoes muddled the source. Lars nervously spun this way and that, looking for the wolf, but never finding more than an afterimage. The wolf was on his back. Lars crouched from the sudden weight. The paws banged hard against his suit and bruised the tender flesh underneath. The spell was slowly wearing off more and more. The wolf was gone again, leaving Lars on his knees.

Wild desperation filled his veins. Somewhere in Equestria his daughter still lived. If he couldn’t win the battle for his friend or for Celestia or for Melon, he would win it for her at least. If all Lars could do was remove a threat to her safety and wellbeing, then he would do that one thing. The magical pendant burned against his skin. His tiredness from fighting washed against a rock of magic, two immovable forces both vying for his body. Invariable the tide would erode the rock and wash over the land, likely drowning him in the process. The more he fought, the larger the waves became, after all. Yet there was no doubt in his mind.

He swung around and brought the blade down. The wolf howled. It had not expected him to turn like that. The gas cloud split into two and whizzed past him, back to the platform to gather again and rethink its strategy.

“Three shapes, one for each he sucked dry. The next will be his last, and without a doubt his most dangerous. This is where you need to be on your toes. That useless human I had following me always said that to me. Be on my toes. What are toes?” Butterscotch blabbered, his prattle going completely unnoticed by Lars. There was no strength left in his body. What kept him up were the last remnants of Butterscotch’s spell and the magical amulet around his neck.

“This better be the last, for real. I’m running on fumes here.”

The purple gas congealed and solidified, took shape and stood erect on the platform at the end. Lars drooped his blade in surprise. King Sombra had not chosen a common animal form for his last performance. Instead stood a dark-skinned human clad top to toe in gleaming metal armour, with a red robe draped around his shoulders. His horn was instead an ornament on his demonical helmet.

“Crystals!”

“I’m sorry to say, but you’re on your own on that one. I have a new princess to visit, and it will take me a while to free myself and get back.” Butterscotch attempted another gesture, resulting in his ball spinning around. The pony made it look intended by fading away.

Lars hardly noticed. He was frozen in place. Things were frightening more so if they were relatable. A scary pony was less frightening to a human who had no concept of beauty or hideousness in ponies. Seeing King Sombra as a human, however, visualised everything that ponies feared about him. “Y-you’re wrong if you think I’ve come this far because I’m a human. It’s your spirit and determination that choses success over failure, not your power or shape.”

King Sombra shook his head, and a wisp of purple smoke drifted from his eyes. A spear materialised in his hand with a sharp tip at the bottom and a triangle at top, with a smaller edge pointing up and a longer one down. “All… world… mine!”

He licked his lips and laughed so that Lars’ blood froze. The wall of magic was steadily being eroded. Tiredness lapped over the weakened dam and made his arms feel heavy. King Sombra walked down from the platform but disappeared before he could reach the bottom. He appeared right in front of Lars but with only the shaft of his spear.

No, King Sombra’s spear was still whole and intact. Half of it was simply lodged inside Lars’ shoulder. King Sombra smiled wickedly. All sounds died, as did Lars’ thinking. The world lost its colour except for the red that trickled down his suit. It was the second hole on the left side. He just had no one to heal him anymore. Slowly thoughts returned to his numbed mind. He had to do something. The spear was on its way out again.

The barb had not entered his shoulder. If it had, and if King Sombra could have extracted the spear then, it would likely have torn out his entire arm. His feet were liquid. Blood pounded in his ears. Darkness settled on his eyes. He didn’t have to win anymore. The score was settled and the fight had been fought. He had won so many challenges, but this would be his last. No amount of technologically engineered suits and magic amulets could protect him from the spear of a crystal-enhanced ghost.

“Hi, my name is Pinkie Pie, what’s yours?”

He was not dead. Not yet. There was still a voice in his head, but whose? It sounded familiar but so very distant. It could not be real. He was alone on the cold floor. Even King Sombra was leaving. “You must be new in town, mister. I’ve never seen anyone like you.”

Long ago he had entered Ponyville. There was something he wanted. What was it? Was it just an excuse? It didn’t matter. He had met her there. Sixteen years had passed but he recognised her instantly from the foal he had held in his arms. Her name was Diane, the name he and his wife had given her. But she had called herself Pinkie Pie then.

“Are you okay, mister? You look a little… pale? Or do you always look like that? As I said, I’ve never seen a creature like you before. What are you?”

He could not tell her. In the end, he had left town. It was not long ago at all. Perhaps a year, perhaps even two. That’s when he had settled in the marsh outside town. He could not tell her the truth. How was she supposed to reply? No, he could not do that to her, but he was getting older and his heart ached to be with her again, to talk with her. But he could not.

Yet this world was hers. She was the wielder of an element of harmony, but would she be all right? Butterscotch was also still out there. No, not Butterscotch, a much more dangerous pony and half-alicorn calling himself Swirl the Smart. Or Swirl the Swift. Could she really take all those threats on? What little he could do, he would have to.

There was still a little strength left in him from Butterscotch’s spell. It was a flickering candle in a storm of tiredness. But it burned so brightly. And it was warm too. There was another sensation on his bare skin. The amulet. It burned with magic. The spell recharged and intensified. The wick was nearly burnt to the end but there was still wax around it. He had to make his last effort count; there would only be one try.

Lars opened his eyes again and found himself standing slouched, with shaking knees and sword in hand. King Sombra was halfway towards the glowing portal at the opposite side of the room. Confusion suffused his serious countenance.

“No. Impossible,” he hissed and hurried back towards the human. Lars’ hands felt like they moved on their own. The spear banged into his blade. The force nearly floored him, but Lars dug his heels in. His face reflected in King Sombra’s helmet. He could not recognise the man staring back at him. It had become a battle between two demons, one powered by crystals, the other by love.

Flames leapt from the sword and on to the spear. King Sombra tried to release it, but Lars took his wrist with his left hand. Wasn’t the shoulder broken? The flames ate the spear in no time and spread up King Sombra’s arm, under his armour, but would not touch Lars’ hand. The king roared in pain and finally pushed Lars away.

“You cannot defeat me for I have to win this battle.” Lars’ voice shook from everything working against him but spoke despite it all. “You who have no goal have no sight of victory. You lost before you laid hand on me.”

King Sombra bared his teeth. They were not human, but more like fangs, fit to break crystals or rip off meat. Green fire blazed in his hands. Lars put up his sword. King Sombra threw the fireballs and Lars soaked them up with his blade. Confidence and passion burned in his eyes, and the fire on his sword exploded with power. The king drew back with a hiss. His mantle caught fire and he threw it to the ground. “It ends here,” he said with fury contorting his face into a hideous mask of malice.

“You’re right, it will, but you got serious too late. Victory is mine.”

The king rushed forth with claws on his hand like steel daggers. They aimed for Lars’ life, but his limbs flowed with magic and parried everything. He worked himself closer and closer with King Sombra getting nearer and nearer. The daggers sank into his shoulders and drew Lars’ blood in a deadly vice attack. His own sword slipped past the defences. The flaming blade melted the metal armour and sank into the vulnerable body within. King Sombra clenched his teeth in fury and blind rage. Green completely overtook his eyes as he looked at Lars. Purple smoke billowed out of the corners. Then he screamed.

Flames licked his neck from deep within the armour. They swallowed his face so only his horn jutted out. At last he released Lars and fell back. He did not get a chance to hit the ground. His body evaporated into smoke. The armour was gone, but King Sombra’s angry face, again a unicorn, emerged from the cloud. His baleful eyes cursed Lars before the flames ate him completely.

Lars still stood. He laughed. He threw his head back and the laughter rolled like an avalanche, picking up momentum as it went. And then it crashed suddenly and Lars was on the floor. Blood streamed from his shoulders. His left arm was unresponsive. His legs were jelly. He commanded his body to drag him forward but nothing happened.

The portal was still far away. Was it vanishing? Everything was getting so dark and hazy. There was nothing more he could do. He had already given it his all and beyond that. At last the threat was over and he was allowed rest. But if he could just get to the portal. None of his extremities would obey him. Even his vision was giving up the spirit.

His adventure was over. He had come looking for a friend but found a danger enough to destroy the world. No one would ever know of his efforts. Only Butterscotch would, and that pony would hold true to his words and accost Twilight Sparkle not long after her coronation, but that is another story.

Author's Note

This is where I have decided to end the story, and I can finally move on to other things. With support however I'd be willing to write a short after-series to show what became of human Lars Leland after his adventures in Equestria. With no support, well, it will only be me who will know the end then. Probably better that way. Now you can imagine yourself what would become of him. Peaceful death? More adventures? The end of one story is only the beginning of another.

Chapter 1: Establishing The Mine/Rebellion At The Fort

How long have I been in Equestria now? Fifteen years? Twenty? Somewhere between those two, of that I am sure. Life here is… calmer than on Earth and yet it never manages to be boring for long. When I came here, I first became involved with the captain of the royal guard and then with the Princess herself. I’ve recounted my previous adventure elsewhere so a short summary will suffice on this recording: Princess Celestia used me to find and capture a dangerous wizard by the name of Swirl the Smart who had crossed the boundaries between mortality and eternal life. In the process I learned that my own world had been destroyed by humanity itself. I got my only daughter, Diane, transported here, but because of mechanical troubles she’s now a pony and I had to give her to a surrogate family. Without her, and without my wife Charlotte, I’ve just been wandering this whole time in search of other humans sleeping in cryochambers like I did. I was starting to think I was the only one.

CHAPTER 1 PART 1: ESTABLISHING

The rhythmic beeping bore into Lars Leland’s dreams, stirring him from his slumber. He groaned and tried ignoring it by rolling over but the beeping continued. He swatted out at the annoyance. A ringing followed, like the sound of metal clinking down on wood. Annoyed, he sat up in his simple bed and was immediately assaulted by the sunshine streaming in through his holed curtain.

There was no much else to his simple hovel. A divider made from reeds separated his bedroom from the kitchen/dining room where he prepared all his meals and also ate them. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his nightstand. It, like almost everything else, had been made by his own hands from wood.

He put a hand through his thin corn blonde hair and stepped into his golden boots. The mirror next to the window showed the aged, smooth face. A deep purple one piece suit was his uniform, a little dirty and with a blood-stained hole near his exposed chest. The beeping brought him back to why he stood up, having by then rolled down under the round dinner table. He shuffled after it with a groan.

It was a ring, a piece of jewellery that took him a moment to recognise. So long ago it had adorned his finger along with the bejewelled cross around the mirror. The ring, on the other hand, was plain and contained only a knob instead of a gem. Its sides were decorated with numbers. The beeping was concentrated on a new number flashing brightly orange.

“I could swear this thing only went to three before…” he mumbled, still drunk with sleep. He equipped the ring and tried turning the dial arrow to the new number four. Nothing happened, prompting him to scratch his chin. He grinned, shrugged and went back to his bed. The beeping had stopped at his failed trial and sleep soon claimed him again.

That was the first sign of the troubles to come. The second sign came as he sat outside with his feet in the murky waters. Two figures drew long shadows past him. He turned his head and saw two guards behind him, wearing the same armour as that of his boots. His whistling ceased at the surprise of seeing two purest white stallions in the bog. More so at the spears that they leant up against.

“You are invited for a private audience with Princess Celestia,” the left one said. The right one remained quiet, but his hard gaze confirmed the statement.

“Are you inviting me? Or forcing me?” he asked and kicked his legs gently around the water.

“It would be best if you didn’t try to find out.” The right one shifted its spear, and Lars sat up on the grassy bank.

The guards were quiet for the duration of the trip. They escorted him from the bog to the Ponyville train station with him sandwiched between them. On the train one always kept an eye on him. When he wanted breakfast and lunch, it was brought to him while he sat in his carriage. Lars enjoyed the treatment, exploiting it even.

“I thought I said no mayo in my sandwich. Bring me another.” He smirked as he pushed the plate back into the guard’s mouth and crossed his legs.

Thus the trip went on all the way to Canterlot. The guards were more than happy to leave him at the station. Another guard was waiting for him and waved enthusiastically. His armour was purple quite unlike the others and his helmet was adorned with a blue brush. His emblem was a shield surrounded by stars.

“Welcome to Canterlot, sir. My name is Shining Armour and I’m captain of Celestia’s guard.” He saluted, but Lars merely sized him up.

“What happened to the last one? Green fellow by the name of Loyal Crescent?” Lars asked, almost disappointed.

“My predecessor retired a few years back. Now if you’ll follow me to the castle, Princess Celestia is waiting for you.” He was a smiling kind of stallion, and trusty as well. Not the arrogant kind that expects people to follow at every command out of fear or respect, but the helpful lot that believed only in the best in others. As it so happened, Lars did not make any attempt at breaking the trust and followed obediently.

“I thought for sure they would have to bury Crescent in his uniform.”

Shining Armour lowered his head. “Captain Crescent resigned out of disagreements with the court. He saw some things that he could not believe in.”

“What kinds of things?” Lars asked curiously and put his hands behind his neck. It was a beautiful day and the sun was shining from a clear, blue sky. Ponies out on the street were all wearing their finest summer clothes. They had to look twice, first at seeing the guard captain and then at a creature none of them had seen before. Shining Armour shook his head.

“I think it was the appearance of Princess Luna. Captain Crescent is a stallion who cares about his family. That Princess Celestia should have been forced to banish her sister for so long. It makes even me shudder, but I firmly believe that she did the right thing… ah, sorry sir for talking your ear off.” He grinned in embarrassment and scratched his neck. “I just heard that you knew my former superior.”

“I had the pleasure,” Lars said sarcastically. The two of them swapped stories for the rest of the trip up to the castle. He bid Lars farewell by the doors outside and marched straight to the barracks on the opposite side, whereas Lars went inside.

When he had been there last, there had been a receptionist behind a desk on the right side. Granny Pie had perished a long time ago however. Age had caught up with her and she had been the last to occupy the position. Lars knew where he was going anyway. He just needed to go up the stairs and then through the double doors.

Princess Celestia was not in her throne room. Another alicorn her size, who Lars recognised sparingly from newspaper pictures, greeted him instead. She was a darker colour than sister and with a sterner mien.

“It pleases us that you could come on such short notice, Lars Leland. We are Princess Luna!” she bellowed, making the window rattle in their frames. Lars had barely gotten through the doors and already regretted following voluntarily.

“Princess Luna, I was told Princess Celestia wanted to see me?”

“Our honoured sister awaits you in the Hall of Elements. It shall be our pleasure guiding you there.”

“She sure has a roundabout way of meeting me,” he mumbled under his breath. Princess Luna suddenly stood before him. Like Celestia, Luna was as tall as Lars where other ponies reached him only to the waist. A taller man might even have dwarfed the princesses, but Lars had always been short with broad shoulders.

“Grab around our neck. We will instantly transport you there.” Lars was too shocked to do anything but comply and quickly threw his arms around her. She spread her wings and they disappeared with a flash.

CHAPTER 1 PART 2: THE MINE

Princess Luna came to an abrupt halt, if she had ever moved at all, and Lars tumbled off her and rolled down the carpeted hallway. Stained glass cast the elongated room into a purple hue while telling epic stories. As he had almost expected, his own adventures went undeserving of such honour. He had defended Equestria from Swirl the Smart whose vague ambitions had left him enough power to destroy the world and enough insanity to do it.

Princess Celestia stood majestically before him, with her eternally wise and compassionate smile. He had come to hate it. It was condescending and spoke volumes of the secrets she hid. Lars had accepted her invitation knowing full well that there was something ulterior behind it. He got up on his feet and dusted himself off as Luna vanished behind him.

“I am delighted you could come,” Celestia said, but Lars held up a hand.

“Just get straight to the point. If you’re going to use me again, then please don’t sugarcoat it.”

“Not many would dare such a tone with me. It’s refreshing. You haven’t changed at all in all these years.”

“I could say the same. It’s almost spooky.” He looked her up and down. Not a thing was different from his last visit, right down to her preened feathers, shining horn and glimmering jewellery. Except for one thing. “You look… I don’t know, you look a little happier?”

“Many things have happened since we last met,” she said in her calm voice and turned around to walk down the hall. “Twilight has fulfilled her promise of a great destiny and brought many bounties to Equestria. Standing above them all is the return of my beloved sister. Of equal merit, though my heart will not value anything higher than Luna, is the freeing of the Crystal Empire. Have you heard of this?”

“No, nothing,” he said offhandedly and admired the many stained glass windows of the hall. “What does it have to do with me?”

“Shining Armour is returning there to his wife, having been here briefly to pick up a few things. He shall explain to you in greater detail. For now a brief summary will suffice as this pertains very much to your situation, so listen well.”

The red carpet ended by a magnificent arched door in purple colours and framed with gold. Celestia observed it with fond memories before inserting her horn into a hole. Light spilled on to the floor chequered in grey colours and melted the doors away. A large room was revealed which could be described as nothing short of a treasure trove. Though containing many beautiful items of gems and precious metals, many of the contained things were also worn and unseemly. Ancient weapons and shields that had served in wars long ago mingled with dreary-looking suits of armour and even common tunics, which glimmered ever so slightly from the right angle.

“So this is where you keep your loot?” Lars asked and looked around. Celestia chuckled as she went inside. There was a careful order to the artefacts. They were being looked after with great care and love, and stood neatly on long rows. A square was cleared in the middle where the two of them could just stand with a spindly, round table between them.

“Just a few things I’ve picked up over the years.” Her horn glowed and a few items flew up from somewhere in the room. A map unfolded itself on the table and a ring slid down her horn. She looked up at him with a serene smile. “A little secret between friends, Lars Leland. This room can be anything I will it to. The royal treasury and the Elements of Harmony are likewise stored in here.”

“Nifty,” he said with a sincere air of being impressed. “I hope this wasn’t why you brought me here, however much I appreciate the gesture.”

Her horn glowed, and a light shone from the ring as if scanning the map. Then it projected a small circle that adjusted for Celestia’s movement so it always stayed in the same place.

“This is a map of the Crystal Empire from over a thousand years ago. There’s no time to wait for a new one to be made. Things haven’t changed anyway. The large city up here is the Crystal City, just for reference. Your destination is down here.” She traced a hoof from the large round city at the northernmost part of the map almost to the very bottom to a small dot labelled Fort Frostmoth. “This fort once marked the border between Equestria and the Crystal Empire, and now it does once again. The teleportation ring shows where the new facility is. As you can see, it is no more than an hour’s walk away, even shorter if you can find a boat.”

He followed with a finger the distance from the fort to the placement marked by the ring. It was indeed right next to an unnamed river.

“How could such a facility just appear though? That’s the part I have the hardest time understanding,” he said without taking his eyes off the map.

Celestia took a moment to answer, as if composing herself. Her voice was a little more pained when she spoke again. “When my sister and I vanquished King Sombra, he put a final curse on the Crystal Empire. It literally vanished and created in its stead a dreadful, frozen wasteland. Another side effect, which I hadn’t even considered, was how it also became a void to my eyes. Swirl the Smart exploited this by building another facility there, one that I would never be able to discover. I’m guessing he either finished whatever experiments he was conducting there or simply couldn’t stand the cold.”

Lars bent up again and cracked his back. “So if I’m reading this right, no signals of any kind could escape the Frozen North because of this King Sombra. That means the curse has been lifted?”

Once more, cheeriness filled Celestia. She nodded. “Exactly.”

He gave that some thought, then patted his suit and looked back up at her. “So why can I still not teleport to the facility?” He held up the ring that he kept away in a pocket. “I tried using the ring when I first noticed the signal.”

“It is likely that the transporter devices are broken.”

“I was thinking that, but you never know with Equestria,” he said and added more muttering while scratching his stubbly chin: “Even if the teleportation pads are broken they could still send out signals.”

To bring the conversation back on track, Celestia cleared her throat and again fixed her eyes on him. “The East Empire Company has sought permission to mine for ebony there, a volcanic glass that’s extremely durable and extremely hard to find in Equestria.”

“And let me guess, you want me to help them?” He didn’t know whether to be excited or fearful. On one hand, it could be his chance to find other humans that Swirl the Smart had taken from his world. On the other, he was all too familiar with Celestia’s roundabout ways to get things done.

“They are already waiting for you. Imagine, a whole facility untouched for a millennium. Who knows what you will be able to find.” True enough, he recognised the smile and the way she turned her face so he could only see one side of it. “I’ve also gotten a few problem reports from the fort that you could look into, if you find yourself unoccupied.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll do it. But I want to make it very clear that I’m doing this for myself.”

“You still haven’t found another one of your race frozen down anywhere,” she stated and pierced him with her clear eyes.

“No,” he replied bluntly. None of them said anything for a while longer, before Celestia broke the silence again.

“Have you at least kept up with your daughter? I couldn’t help but notice that you had moved to Froggy Bottom Bog.”

“I have, and I did.” Again he was quiet, but this time it was because of a question that had bothered him for a while. He rubbed his left arm with his right hand, trying to find the proper way to ask it.

“Your daughter is the element of laughter, Lars Leland. Such questions as ‘What would have happened if I hadn’t brought here’ are irrelevant. The elements would have found a way, they always do. Was there anything else?” she asked with a warm smile.

“No, Princess,” he replied. “I’ll make my way to the Crystal Empire immediately.”

He was almost out of the door when Celestia called out to him again. “I hope you will find your friend. That’s what you are really working on, isn’t it?” He nodded, but did not otherwise reply. He simply kept his head low and walked out.

The guard captain, Shining Armour, awaited him outside the hall with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Together they made their way back to the train station. The ride lasted for several more hours and Lars enjoyed his lunch on the way.

Fort Frostmoth was a thick wall of stone forming a square with large wooden gates on opposite ends. One opened up to the train station and from there one could see all the way out of the other one to the docks. Several guards walked around the inner courtyard where a well made up the only other feature. All other buildings were built into and a few stories higher than the wall.

The building that Shining Armour had directed him to was on his left as he entered. A couple of steps led up to a heavy wooden door. An earth pony in thick, but otherwise civilian, clothes greeted him. From his strong build he could have had something to do with the guards, but the way he carried himself and his mannerism gave him a more elegant demeanour.

“Can I help you, uh… sir?” he asked and looked up at Lars.

“I was told to come here… this is the office of the East Empire Company?” The stone hallway was draped with carpets and tapestries, while blazing torches provided the light.

“Ah, you must be the human we have been expecting. Yes, my brother is waiting for you in his office upstairs.” The lavender-coated pony stepped up against the wall to allow Lars passage.

“Then what’s down here?” Lars asked and only slowly began moving again.

“The room on the left is reserved for the Princess on her rare visits and is kept ready at all times. The room on the right is my chamber. I’m just a simple steward, but if you ever need me, then Tough Gunner is my name.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lars said with deference and bowed shortly to the pony. Not wanting to find out whether he had embarrassed himself, Lars quickly strode to the end of the room. A winding staircase could be spotted through the archway. It was cramped and he had to stoop, as it was clearly made for shorter creatures than he.

The first door he encountered sent him out into a shorter hallway, but much wider and with oval splotches of carpet in some greenish-bluish hue. As before, the hallways contained a few doors. He tried the first one on his right but found it locked. Then he heard a whistling. Looking up, he saw a lanky earth pony by the far wall tossing his head towards the last door on the right.

“Oi mac, in here, wot?” he sniffled. He had the air of a lowlife about him but was dressed in a fine doublet matching his hunter green coat.

Lars followed the directions and stepped inside. Another earth pony greeted him from behind his fine wooden desk and swung a lavender hoof at the many chairs assembled in his room. On the left side was a writing desk and on the other was a bed just barely visible behind a screen.

“Lars Leland, such an honour to meet you! Your rumour quite precedes you, you know?” the earth pony said and scratched at his moustache. He was almost the spitting image of the steward, but looked older. Could just have been the moustache.

“You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are,” Lars replied and remained standing.

“Of course, of course, where are my manners? The name is Trusty Gunner, and don’t you forget that, my friend.” He winked and waved the hoof again, but Lars only grabbed the back of the chair most opposite Trusty.

“I understand you’re in charge of the mining operation,” Lars pressed in his best business tone. The earth pony scratched his moustache again.

“Quite right, sir. I am the financial supporter of this endeavour, so to speak. I would not otherwise be caught dead in this dreadful place but it might very well turn out profitable for us all.” He put a hoof through his short, slicked-back mane green as a lime.

“So what will be my job here? Do you want me to help out with the mining?”

Trusty chuckled slightly. “By no means, we have ponies for that sort of manual labour. But from a lifetime of experience I know that things are bound to go wrong, so it’s always good to keep an expert on troubles close at hand. I’m afraid I can’t guarantee you a regular salary either, but I will pay you per job.”

“That’s quite all right,” Lars ensured and stood up straight again. “I’m not here for the bits.”

“The adventure then? Or the excitement? Doesn’t matter. Why don’t you pop on down to the docks? A couple of workers need an escort to Raven Rock so we can get the mining started. You can check back in with the commander afterwards to set up your quarters.” Lars turned to leave, but Trusty cleared his throat. “And before I forget. Your down payment of one hundred bits.” Trusty pushed a leather pouch across the table and Lars picked it up, his face full of surprise. “I know it isn’t much for a mercenary, but even I could do a simple escort mission. If I weren’t so ruddy busy. Now off with you, and do be a gent and take the boat. Can’t have the workers die before they get to the actual work.”

Lars put the pouch inside his deep purple one-piece where it didn’t even leave so much as a bump. He hastily exited the office without another word. He could scarcely tell the sponsor how he usually only made a tenth of that amount on what odd jobs he could find. On his way out, he passed the assistant again and finally figured out what he reminded him of. With his protruding front teeth and skinny appearance, he resembled above all an oversized rat. Lars nodded at him but received no gesture back.

The dock was small and made of large stones, and could only accommodate a single boat. It stood at the foot of a small slope where a path had been ground into the grass by many hooves. A pegasus stood on the boat, shivering slightly. Lars had not noticed the cold, being well-protected in his suit and golden boots. But a chill wind blew into his face. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him.

“Will you be our guide, outlander?” a unicorn asked him. Two of them and an earth pony wandered around the pier.

“We can just go by boat, right?” Lars looked up at the pegasus on his ship.

“Sure, but there ain’t no port in Raven Rock. You will have to hoof it back to the fort,” he replied with teeth starting to clatter. “Wish I had brought some shoes. Or a sweater.”

The workers were equally naked but did not complain. They followed Lars on board and after ten minutes, in a natural bay, they arrived at their destination. With no port, they had to jump into the water with materials and tools over their shoulders and wade knee-deep to the coast.

Raven Rock was a small area of snow with green grass surrounding it. That was all to it except for a few stones jutting out of the ground and sporadic trees. The workers, likely instructed beforehand, went about their business and settled their boards and nails and other items in the snow.

Another earth pony galloped up to Lars. He was muscular built but had a kind face; his coat was violet and his cropped mane was pale orange. He wore the same doublet as the earth ponies from back at the fort, but his was more worn and dirty.

“I have been expecting you, human. Celestia sent word about you in advance,” he called out and came to a screeching halt. “The name is Watermelon Napoleon, but everyone just calls me Melon.”

He put out a hoof, and Lars put down his share of the burden to shake it. “Lars Leland.”

“Well that’s a mouthful and a half. Can I just call you Lars?” Melon did not wait for a reply but instantly pushed behind Lars to move him up towards the snow and trees. “Here we’ll make our mine, Lars. It doesn’t look like much right now, but give it some time and there’ll be swinging and singing and life, I tell you.”

“So why was I asked to escort the workers? They could have come here fine by their own.” He noticed one of the unicorns use his magic to pick up the boards that he had just dropped.

“Because I want you to see the colony for yourself. Well not much of a colony yet, but in time you will see. And, I also need someone to go back to Trusty Gunner with some samples. I swear, I only trust that pony because he was willing to fund this project. And unless we bring him back some proof, we won’t see a single bit.”

“About that, I’ve been wondering what this ebony is?”

Melon ran ahead to a large rock filled with shards of dark glass. He patted it and then took a stone from his inner pocket that he tossed to Lars.

“Ebony, you see, is this wonderful volcanic material only found here in the Crystal Empire. Not exactly glass, not exactly stone, it’s a delightfully strong type of crystal that can be a little heavy but beautiful to look at. It can be a right pisser to come by in Equestria these days so we’ll be sure to make a lot of people happy. Be a darling, Lars, and grab a pickaxe. We need at least four more samples to convince that hardheaded pony back at the fort.” Melon winked when they heard loud yelling coming from the workers. The unicorns were squabbling over what looked like a piece of paper with the earth pony. “Meanwhile, I better make sure no one gets killed.”

Lars smiled, and was actually beginning to look forward to working with Melon. He grabbed a pickaxe that had been dropped in the snow went to work.

CHAPTER 1 PART 3: REBELLION AT FROSTMOTH

The trip back through the forest was less than cosy. A supernatural darkness seemed to cling about the crowns of the trees and unknown animals cried somewhere in the distance. The snow crunched under his gilded feet. The wind howled bitterly and colder than before. After less than an hour, the fort appeared before him but the distant cries grew less distant. Figures moved in front of him. He looked behind and saw shadows falling out of the trees.

Wolves, and a whole pack of them, surrounded him on all sides. Their mangy coats were flea-bitten and coming off in great locks. Their eyes were filled with madness, their mouth foaming as they snarled at him.

Lars quickly found his gun. The wolves were not impressed. They barked loudly again. “Come on,” Lars tempted them. One broke from the ranks. It pounced him but Lars turned the round end on his bulb horn gun. The beam blasted a large hole through the wolf and it dissipated into a flurry. The wolf had barely disintegrated into snow before another one and another one charged him. He blasted one and endured the bite of another to his arm. The suit would not break even at their jaws. He shot that one as well, and it too dematerialised.

Two more jumped him from behind. He toppled down to the ground. He kicked out at one, catching it across its chin, while shooting the other. The first wolf snarled and jumped back. All of its comrades had fallen. It was just it and Lars. Any saner creature would have fled, but not that diseased mutt. The ticks practically sprang from its bristling fur. He squeezed the bulb of his gun, getting only a tired cough from the nozzle.

“You can’t be dead already, I charged you not even twenty years ago!” He pounded a hand against the gun, but all it could do was sputter lifelessly. The wolf caught on to his struggles. It licked its lips greedily and stalked closer to him. It sprang into the air. Lars put his hands up. The expected contact never came. He looked up again to see a spear stuck to the ground.

“The snow wolves are riddled with diseases. Getting bitten can have… unforeseen consequences.” A guard adjusted his helm behind him, then tossed his head towards the fort. “You’re lucky I decided to check on you. Those wolves are only getting bolder.”

“Thank you. I’m not sure what I would have done without you.” Lars put the gun back, as a precaution screwing the bulb to its safe position.

“Don’t mention it,” the guard said and turned around

Back at the fort, behind his desk, Trusty Gunner sat with a newspaper spread before him. Lars dumped the stones down on the paper. The sponsor looked with colour flushing his face. He was about to say something, probably rude, when he saw it was just Lars.

“Ah, there you are, my friend. I thought for sure you had gotten lost in the woods, taking this long to get back to me,” he said with a smile creasing his chin into dimples.

“Yeah, there’s something spooky about the forest. I was also attacked by wolves, so please tell me that they are the real deal?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, these are a beautiful bunch indeed.” Trusty took one of the stones up to his eye. “I cannot tell you the value of just these five pieces. I’ll send for you if I need you again.”

The sponsor became caught up in the stones and dreams of wealth and power. Lars asked for directions instead from the rat-like pony outside his room. He wanted to visit the captain of fort. The general quarters were the building on his right as he stepped down into the courtyard again. Several guards walked around inside or sat and chatted by tables or played cards or otherwise passed the time until their shift.

Lars went up a winding staircase at the other end of the large room to a carpeted corridor with doors on all sides. Like the sponsor, the Captain had a desk and a bed shielded by a screen but his office was the last room on the left. The Captain was a strong earth pony with an air of trustworthiness around him. His uniform differed only with a red sash around the neck and a crest with a sun and sword. His coat, like his crew cut mane, looked as if it had been dyed in blood.

“Yes, what is it?” he asked without looking up from the many papers on his desk. The pen in his mouth darted across the paper.

“Lars Leland, reporting in for duty,” the human said with a clenched fist under his chin. The Captain looked up.

“The human? Ah, splendid!” He sprang down from his chair to properly greet Lars with a firm hoof shake. “The name is Captain Fall Crush, but everypony just calls me Captain Crush. Eh, duty, you say? Aren’t you just here for the mine?”

“Well yes, but I figured I could make myself useful here as well.”

Captain Crush released his hand again and nodded. “Yes, things here have certainly not been the same since King Sombra returned. Even now after he has been vanquished, it feels almost like his vengeful spirit is licking its wounds. The guards report back of disease-riddled snow wolves that mindlessly attack everything they see. This ominous feeling is weighing on my guards, and it is my responsibility to lift their morale. Just being stationed here in this cold, desolate wasteland is enough to get any recruit down.”

“Yeah, the snow wolves I’ve noticed,” Lars remarked and looked out of the slit windows behind the desk. He could still see shadows move among the trees even from the comfort of the fort. The Captain returned to his desk.

“I fear something else is worrying my guards, however. Through the thick of it I’ve never had this riotous vibe from any of them. If nothing is done soon I fear we’ll have a mutiny on our hooves. But as their Captain, they do not confide in me.” He folded his hooves and rested his head on it. “I have no one to trust with this mission, but you come with high remarks. Report back to me if you find something.”

“I was also wondering about my sleeping arrangements,” Lars added, making the Captain smile.

“This isn’t exactly a hotel, Mr Leland. You will sleep with the other guards and eat with them as well. I hope that’s all right with you, otherwise you’re welcome to find another arrangement.”

“It will be just like back on earth.”

Lars set to his assignment with cautious vigour. He knew well himself that the morale of the men was important. The guards he met were all brooding and curt, a trend he had noticed just wandering around the fort. He had only to exit into the corridor outside of the Captain’s office to be reminded. The trampling of a pony with golden boots made a rhythmic pounding among the stone walls. The clack of a spear being sporadically butted into the ground announced the coming of a guard. An earth pony in golden armour marched unheedingly up towards him.

“Excuse me,” Lars called out to him, but the guard chose not to hear. Not until Lars blundered out in front of him did the guard acknowledge him.

“Please step out of the way, outlander,” the guard said with his helmet drawn over his eyes.

“Can you tell me what the word is around here?”

“My throat seems to have gotten awfully dry. I have nothing else to say to you.” The guard made a half-circle around Lars and continued his patrol.

“And I was saving this for a rainy day…” he muttered. His hands began patting the suit, up, down, chest, thighs and side, until he found what he looked for. He slipped out a small glass bottle with Sweet Apple Acres’ finest cider. “If you’re thirsty, why not have one on me?”

The guard turned around nonchalantly and had to drop his spear to catch the bottle. He uncorked the bottle, putting his nose all the way down to the neck to get a good whiff. “Do my senses deceive me or is this a bottle of cold cider?”

“Perhaps you could tell me what’s bothering you? I could try and help. I’m good with that sort of thing”

“Well…” The guard paused to put the bottle to his lips. “If you really want to help us, why don’t you go back to the captain and ask why he has forbidden all the cider? The fort is dryer than the badlands. All we’ve had to live off is water.”

“I will, and thank you for your cooperation. You may keep the bottle.”

The guard didn’t look willing to relinquish it anyway. Lars turned back and entered the Captain’s office again. Crunch looked up with surprise. “Well that was fast, Mr Leland. Don’t tell me you’ve already solved the problem?”

“Your men are contesting your decision to forbid cider,” Lars replied in a neutral tone and went all the way back to the desk.

A pained grimace flickered over the Captain’s face. He spat out his quill again. “I didn’t exactly forbid it per se. The shipments just sort of stopped coming and now we’ve run through our stock. Had I only known it was that important to my guards.” Captain Crunch sprang to his hooves. “Well, high time we did something about it! Since neither I nor any of my guards would want to stop the shipments from coming, and since that Trusty Gunner only came here a few days ago, it just leaves his brother, the steward. Could you check up on him for me? It would be bad if I made a direct accusation and it turned out he was innocent.”

Lars felt the sincerity in the captain’s voice. He seemed like a good stallion willing to do anything for his guards. “I’m on it. I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting him.”

Scant moments later, Lars had crossed the courtyard and was back in the building he had first visited. Tough Gunner was not in the corridor, nor was he in his designated chamber on the right. Lars found him inside the room on the left, adjusting paintings and dusting off the surfaces.

“Back so soon?” he mumbled with the feather duster between his teeth and front hooves up the fireplace to reach the mantle.

“I was just wondering if you knew anything about the cider shortage.” He stood in the doorway, taking in the grandeur of the room. It was just a bedroom but had all the trappings for a princess of any kind. A canopy bed stood down in the left side of the room and thick rugs adorned the floor.

“Why would I know anything about that?” Tough Gunner replied surly.

“Maybe you heard something,” Lars pressed.

“Just that the Captain banned cider on the fort. Reasonable, if you ask me. The guards need to be alert at all moments and not goofing around.”

“The Captain never banned cider. It simply stopped coming.”

Tough Gunner froze. For a moment, he leant up against the fireplace before falling down on his hooves. He spat out the feather duster. “You can’t prove I have something to do with it. Now if you’re done, I suggest you leave me to my work. The Princess’ hearth needs to always be blazing and her room immaculate. The likes of you should not even be in here.”

After that, Lars was nudged out of the room and the heavy door banged shut. “Hiding something, are we?” he thought aloud while scratching his chin. Lars first checked out the steward’s own room opposite, but it contained only a rickety bed and a washing bowl. He stood in the near darkness from having no windows and only stubby unlit candles. He went back out in the corridor and nearly bumped into a guard on his patrol.

“Word travels fast around here,” the guard whispered while keeping an eye on the Princess’ door. “That room is only his sleeping chamber. You want to find his office, go to the upstairs armoury.” The guard passed as innocently as he had come and continued his patrol. Lars wondered if he was the same pony he had met before. It did not matter, they all looked the same.

The armoury was the last building he had yet to visit, placed opposite the general quarters. The floors and walls were lined with shields and spears and swords of all makes and sizes. Woven tapestries depicted ponies wearing full combat armour and gruesome battle axes. Amid it all sat an earth pony wearing black armour. On the flimsy table in front of him was a candle, a bottle of swig and his helmet. He wiped his mouth and nodded at Lars, but did not speak. Nor did any of his assistants.

“Seems like I have free pass around the fort,” Lars thought aloud to himself. The rest of the way was like the other two rooms. A winding staircase took him up to the first floor, a corridor lined with doors. Just as he wondered which door to bust in, a guard dropped his spear. The pony fixed his eyes on Lars’ and put a hoof on his spear. The tip pointed to the first door on the right. Lars nodded, and the guard picked up his spear and resumed his patrol.

The door was not locked. The office was made of stone as all the others. A thin, red rug attempted to give it some warmth. On his right was a desk and in the farthest left corner was a big closet. Lars put his nose close to the desk. It was the kind where a shutter protected the insides and when down could be used as a surface. Through the lock came the faintest trace of cider through parchment and ink. A large smile crept across Lars’ face.

He gave the desk a good kick. It toppled over and the thin wooden framing holding the shutter burst one. The clatter of bottles quickly drew the guard’s attention. Shocked, he looked first at the cider spilling out on the floor and then at Lars.

“Seems like the steward is treating the guards to cider,” Lars said and picked up one of the bottles. The make and content differed to produce three or four different brands, but the guard didn’t care. He grabbed the bottle Lars tossed at him and buttoned it up.

The entire guard staff soon huddled into the room and it was hard to get a wriggle room. Lars allowed the guards to get their fair share and then tried to get out. Many who had got a bottle didn’t choose to sit around. Some even hoarded bottles into their armour. The party really got going when they toppled the closet as well and the bottles literally poured out.

“So Tough Gunner wanted evidence. Well, I think I’ve got more than I needed.” Lars himself stuffed a bottle into his suit. He met the steward again outside in the courtyard, running about distressed on the spot.

“You!” he exclaimed with murderous calm. “This was supposed to be my ticket back to society. You think I like being stuck in this frozen wasteland? Care for a room that is never being used? If the situation got out of hand, the Princess would cancel the fort and send us all back home.” Tough Gunner put his hooves up to Lars’ chest so he could look the human almost in the eyes. Lars looked down at him with an angered look and slapped him off.

“Suck it up! We all have to do things we don’t like, but you recklessly endanger everyone on the fort just to get your will. You will probably get sent back now, though not quite as you imagined it.”

Tough Gunner gritted his teeth. “What do you want from me?”

“To make sure that the guards will be supplied with cider. Keep your head low and the Captain will not need to hear of this.”

“Fine. Do what you must. But if you truly will not tell the Captain of my involvement then I will keep my end of the bargain as well. Cider will flow again at Fort Frostmoth.”

Lars watched the steward before sighing deeply. He could feel his age creep over him slowly. So much of the day had been spent travelling that it was almost gone. Darkness was fast falling on the land and red bled through the sky. He went back to the general quarters to check up on his sleeping arrangement. He had gotten the bottom of a bunk bed. A chest was prepared for him for his convenience but was empty for now. On the sheets however awaited him a surprise. Wound in a red bow sat a shortsword with a little card attached.

“I heard your gun was having some trouble – Captain Crunch.” He flipped the card over and read the other side as well. “Sparkblade, a feisty shortsword made of silver and capable of zapping anypony you stab.”

“I have a feeling this is not going to be a vacation, if this day is anything to go by,” Lars muttered to himself.