The Sons of Luna

The attendant put the chain chanfron on Storm's head, and he stood rigidly as she tightened it.

'We are what we are.'

Storm had truly come into his own, among them. They had taken him in. And now he knew who he was, what he was. He still remembered what they had told him. "Ponies are like dogs, my son. There's the little, tubby fat ones everypony likes to pet, and the tall, rangy ones we watch race and bet upon. There's all kinds of house dogs with wagging tails. Then there's the wolf. It is strong. It has powerful jaws, and it is ferocious when roused. We are what we are, my son. And wolves is what we are. And all them little waggy-tail beasts best walk wary around us."

Storm would keep those words in his memory forever.

The crinet came next, covering and protecting Storm's neck. The tan pegasus kept steady, as the unicorn mare tightened the crinet around him. Loose armour was a hindrance on the battlefield. It would be flexible, but properly fitting.

He had met Luna herself. Mother. Calling her that - it felt good.

The dark blue unicorn mare next took up the crupper, its bronze plate shining even in the dimly lit room. It affixed on to Storm's hindquarters and the upper legs, and the straps were tightened to fit.

She loved him, just as he loved her. Storm had never needed the word 'devotion' before, but now it seemed...right. Were she to order him into certain death, he would obey happily.

Next, the peytral was lifted up in the unicorn's pale blue magic. As she lifted it to its place protecting the front of Storm's torso, Storm could feel her magic on his coat, a warm, comforting touch.

And his brothers would do the same. For her - for mother - anything would be done, no matter the cost.

The flanchards came next, plate now protecting his flanks apart from the wings. Straps tightened the plate's hold, and Storm waited for it to be finished, before flexing his muscles. Well made armour, it kept the full range of movement.

His attendant waited until he had finished, and then lifted up the plate crinet. Like the mail, this would protect his neck, but more securely than the mail alone.

Storm remembered his first session with the armourer, when he had questioned this very thing. The armourer had shook his head, and corrected him. "The plate is sturdy, but like any rigid armour, it has chinks so you can move in it. See? And then," he said, taking out a knife, "what do you think happens when somepony puts a knife through that? Your mail is there so that even if that should befall you, you have protection. You'll see, young one, that there may seem some strange things in battle, but they each have a reason if you seek for it."

Next to last, his attendant added another piece of plate, covering the mail chanfron. The plate chanfron was there for the same reason as the plate crinet, to help protect against any weapon.

Last was another piece of mail. Gently, his attendant lowered the mail caparison over him, covering even his wings now. Storm nodded to her, and she bowed and withdrew, her duty to him done.

Next were the weapons, and Storm carefully fitted on the boots. Unlike typical horse shoes, these were hooked and bladed, with jagged ends. A well trained warrior could kill an enemy with a single blow, even through armour. And Storm was well-trained indeed. The Sons of Luna all were. It was what made them who they were. And nopony, nobody, would deprive them of that.

Next came the lance. Common weapons for many of the pony military, in the hooves of one of these elite fighting stallions, they were devastating. Strapped to the side, and used in mass charges, they could devastate an enemy line.

Storm, armed and armoured, knelt down, and re-swore the oath he had made on that day, so long ago...