In the Kingdom of the Blind, the One-Eyed are Kings

"Man is the God of Earth,
the answer to every question
Given to generation and birth
by a God who is the Man of Heaven"
--Thou

The room you were in was bustling with movement and activity, as Changeling medics and nurses rushed from bed to bed, checking on the various soldiers that lay groaning on the small medical cots. The sounds of shouting, moaning and the shuffling of the wounded Changelings filled the medical chamber, and you could only watch in deep shame and hurt at the sight of your soldiers in this situation. This room was filled with the only survivors of the Battle of Heshen Moor (so the name of the battle that was going around amongst the other soldiers and civilians), who numbered less then fifty souls. And though you never gave the order to march into the borders of the Gem Vale, you still felt a grim responsibility for those who lay in agony.

You should've fought harder, you should've been stronger, you should've killed so many more Bossk.

You should've saved more of them.

"It's quite the sight isn't it?" Risteard asked, as he made to stand at your side.

You don't acknowledge the Commander, keeping your gaze fixated on the group of broken Changelings before you, your heart aching in pity for the suffering.

"They started coming in two days ago, some dying at the gates before they could enter, some barely making it to the medical chambers, due to the extensive nature of their wounds. The Bossk are truly fierce warriors if they could decimate the forces of Gnosis himself."

"And you point is?" You reply gruffly, noticing the underlying insult he made towards your wounded soldiers.

An insult you did not appreciate in the slightest as your fists tightened.

The fat Commander hoveled in front of you, the jewelry hanging from his body jingling in an almost deafening manner, his eyes steeling as he met your look.

"Well, you say that retaliation may be an impending occurnece, and since my lands are the closest official Palingarian settlement wthin reach of the border, I can trust your word when you say that we may be attacked soon,” he states, barely audible above the moans of the wounded, “so would I expect my people to be subjugated to the same mistery the as this miserable lot here?"

An incredulous look expresses upon you, as the Sorley commander looked to the broken Changelings with apathy.

"You speak as if you don't care for these Changelings!"

"Maybe it's because I don't, my lord," He retorted with a shrug, voice laced in a subdued tone of bereft of sympathy, causing you to look at him with fury at his statement," You say it was the War Council, and therefore I, that ordered this slaughter, but keep in mind that I voted against this stupidity long before any other alternative methods could be come up with. Yet still, after burning my city and killing my family, I have no love for Gnosis or His soldiers.”

On that note, he turned on his hooves and made to exit the hallway that you both stood in, flanked by his two Knights at his side, ever vigilant and silent. Tilting his head to the side, he called out to you one last time.

"The Old Way and the Queen's orders bar me from tossing you from my city, but I advise you to collect your wounded and leave as soon as possible. Any siege here will be won by Sorley hooves, and Sorley hooves alone, without the aid of your ilk, Breag Naofa. Also, be sure to check in with the dungeon master, he has an interesting matter to discuss with you that our Queen may wish to know about."

The fat Changeling Lord departed, leaving you to ponder on the words he left you with. Some day soon, you would come back and personally kill that loathsome heretic and the rest of his bastard house, but today, you would, for the time being at least , supress your murderous desires back down as much as possible. After all, you were guest in the House of Sorley, and a representative of your glorious queen

Refocusing your attention to the task at hand, you walk down the small, stone steps the lead into medical chamber and begin to walk into the chaotic fray. Upon examining the rush of the medics and nurses, you notice a familiar Changeling moving from bed to bed, offering help and healing to the afflicted soldiers lining the room. Seeing the devoted Knight brought a smile to your face.

"Sir Cathal," You call out to him, moving towards the bed that we was currently residing at. Cathal turns towards you, as well as many of the nurses and medics who noticed your arrival, and offers a swift bow. You wave of their courtesy with a flick of your hand, appreciative of their gesture. It felt good that some in this damn city still showed you the proper respect that your title was owed.

"My Lord, how ails your side?" The Knight asked, as he placed his hooves in a wash basin, removing the blood that stuck to them, "My apologies for attending to you earlier, I just got caught up in working here that--"

"It's fine, Sir Cathal, I understand," You reply, reaching over and patting the Changeling’s back in comraderie, “I never properly thanked you for work you did on me. You saved my life, Sir a Cathal.”

“Please my Lord, Cathal is just fine,” he stated modestly, offering his hoof up to me, “it was an honor to treat you, sir.”

Various other Changelings in the beds all called out to you, weakly raising their hooves, or the stumps from which their hooves were once attached to, in weak, tires salutes, each trying in their own way to show their respects to you.

“Go to them, my Lord. Speak with them,” Cathal said softly, “Some of them won’t survive the night, so it would do them well to know that you shed your blood for those Changelings, just like they shed theirs for you.”

A deep sadness Wells up inside of you, as you gazed at the battered,beaten, defeated troops; some who had only mere hours to live. Nodding at Cathal, who smiled back at you before returning his attention to the wounded Changelings at his side, you move from your spot and begin approaching bed by bed.

The ones you that were maimed and injured, you would sit with and exchange stories and accounts of the a Battke of a Heshen Moor, you would hold the ones who would break and weep at the suffering they had went through, and the dying, you would tell words of comfort too, holding their hooves, trying anything you could do to help with their pain.

“All of you,” you say to the collected group, “each and everyone of you were the finest band of brothers and sisters i’ve ever fought with. All of you are going home, even if it means I have to fight all through Tartarus to get you there. You will all go home. I promise.”

The broken soldiers eyes light up in a dim, but smoldering hope; a hope that they would return to their homes, see their families again, and held trust that you would see it through. A part of you wanted to remain with them, and talk with them further, but there was still much to do before you and the others could return home, and in order to make good on that promise, you had to leave them.

Turning back to Cathal, he stares at you with a look of appreciation at your words you spoke to the soldiers.

"That was a good thing you did, My Lord. Just the fact that they know you care about them places their hearts at ease."

Sighing, you tilt your head at the Knight, beckoning him to follow you as you turn your back and head down the corridor leaving the infirmary. Cocking his head questioningly, the Knight checks his patient one last time before following closely behind you. The corridors of the Sorley castle are surprisingly well lit, contrast to the dark and jagged architecture of the building itself. The walls were lined with stained glass and paintings, showing past scenes of Palingarian and Sorley history, while servants and guards marched throughout the hallway.

"So few survived, Cathal. I can't seem to wrap my head around it," You say, as you walk towards your destination, "I know I should be used to it by now, but this was a tragedy that should've been avoided. All those damn, wasted lives. I'm still finding it difficult to wrap my mind around it."

"My Lord-"

"Please, call me Anon, Cathal. You've earned that right."

The Knight looks at you in surprise at the notion, a look of uncertainty crossing his features, before responding.

"Alright, er, Anon," He struggles to get out, before clearing his throat to respond properly, "Those soldiers were doing their duty, to Hive and to the Queen, as were you. The loss of life was a tragedy, we can all admit that and sympathize with that. Several of my own friends were killed in the battle, but when we joined the Army of Gnosis, we knew what we were signing up for."

"I'm sorry for your loss Cathal. Who were they, your friends?"

The Changeling Knight gives a small smile in remembrance as you round the corner towards a stairway, leading downwards towards the dungeon below.

"There was Lonan. He was a Knight, A Hospitaler like myself, yet far younger. He was always a character, that Changeling, always joking and poking fun at the others and trying to make us all laugh, yet he was damn fine medic. I remember staying up late into the nights during our times as squires, studying the medical books, and talking and laughing all through the evening. Those were good times."

The fond smile of remembrance on Cathal's face slowly begins changing into a small frown. You notice the pain creeping into his gaze as he recalls his friends. Friends that you fought with, and died all around you.

"Then there was Niall, a Throne that I met during the Reunification War. Gods, he was huge," He released a dry chuckle at the thought of how big, yet how soft his dead friend could be, "I remember when I first met him, he was in the infirmary, screaming and hollering as if he was on death's door, only for us to find out that he just had a small splinter stuck under his hoof. It was so ridiculous, and yet so endearing to see this giant brought low by a small splinter, that we became fast friends. We served in the same unit for the remainder of the war."

By now, you begin to notice the distressed look of the Changeling Knight, and wonder if it was a good idea to bring the thought of his deceased friends up in the conversation.

"Cathal, if it pains you, you don't have to speak of it anymore."

"No, its alright," Cathal replies, waving his hoof to clear the tears threatening to emerge from his eyes away, "I want to talk about it. I want you to know about them, who they were. That they weren't faceless drones in the army. They were unique, and individuals.....and people, just like you and me."

"I know, Cathal, I know," you respond, halting in your steps and bending down to meet the Changeling face to face, "I lost friends, too. I've sent countless to their graves, by my sword or by my orders, and many died because of me. It's hard, what we do, and pain and grief follow where we go, but all these lives lost were for the Hive, for the Queen, for our families living here. I won't say that I knew your friends, Cathal, but I will say that they did not die in vain, but in glory."

You knew that wasn't true. There wasn't glory in battle, and the hell that followed with it.

Most died screaming.

The glory of battle, of the fight, of honor amongst warriors, in truth, it was all a lie.

But that's what you were, as the Breag Naofa: The Holy Lie. It was up to you to shatter the truth of war, and to reinforce the belief in Honor, of dying for the Hive. Cathal didn't need to hear the truth, he probably knew it already; what he needed was to be reassured that their sacrifices meant something.

It was a moment of doubt, that you wholeheartedly understood, and would be there to reassure.

You would be that lie.

Cathal cleared his throat, brushing the remaining moisture from his eyes in an attempt to regain his composure.

"Thank you, Anon, I needed to hear that, and to get that off my chest. I find it Uncomfortable to talk about it with mate back home, I don't want to hear about all the death, but sometimes, it's hard to keep it bottled up. I try not lose myself in front of my family."

"It's fine Cathal, we all need to let off steam every once in awhile," You say, placing a comforting grip on the Knight's shoulder, before resuming your steps and continuing down the dark stairs, "If you ever need to talk, seek me out, and we can air it out of drinks, eh?"

"I would like that, My Lord," Cathal replied, a small smile returning to his lips, exposing the tips of his fangs.

The two of you continue onward before reaching a large, wooden door, with torches mounted on either side of it. Surprisingly, at the door stood Risteard, with his guards and what appeared to be another noble of House Sorley, accompanied by Vhelen and Michan, as well as one of Thrones that came with the Lord Commander.

"Well, this is a surprise, I thought you would've joined us later," Risteard sneered, as he watched you and Cathal approach the small gathering. You greet the Lord with a grimace, resting your gauntlet on the pommel of your long sword; it seems that every comment that leaves this insufferable Lord irks you more and more.

"I decided to investigate the Dungeon Master's summons before attending to the other articles of business," You reply, curtly, eyeing the Sorley noble that stood besides Risteard, "And who is this, if I may ask?"

"This is my son, Lorcan," Risteard stated, "I asked him to accompany me with the Lord Commander, here."

Vhelen offered a smile and a nod in greeting, in which you return in kind. Michan and Throne offer you a crisp salute to you, which you wave off, as well, and greet them with pats on the back. The guards with Risteard, like the rest of the Sorley soldiers, remain quiet and passive, yet the ever present animosity peering at you from under the metal helmets. His son, though, walks up to you and offers a hoof to you in greeting.

"It's an honor, Breag Naofa," Lorcan says, which honestly throws you and Risteard off guard, "it's an honor to meet the Chosen of Gnosis."

"Um, thank you, Lord Lorcan," you reply awkwardly, "I appreciate the kind the words."

"Priest Lorcan, actually ," He replies with a chuckle, reaching into the bellows of his robes and producing a medallion, carved with the Image of St. Gnosis's sigil upon it, "I am a servant to the Powers That Are, just like you. Someone needs to bring religion to these heathens, am I right?"

That gets a chuckle out of you. So far, this was the only Sorley you've met with that you personally didn't loathe.

"If you're quite finished," Risteard interrupted, glaring at you, "We were just about to enter. Care to join us or preach amongst yourselves out here?"

"Sorry, father," The young Sorley mutters, before shifting back to Risteard's side, before the pair as well as their guards enter the dungeon.

"Come on, Anon," Vhelen says, tapping your thigh to get your attention, "Lets see what's so important down there, shall we?"

Giving a curt nod, you head through the door after the Lord Commander, followed closely by Michan, Cathal, while the Throne remained outside to guard the door. You're interested, or at the very least intrigued, to see what the Dungeon Master wanted to show you, but a part of felt that it would be nothing good. As your heavy footsteps echo against the hard, stone floor, you could only pray that you are walking into a trap by the bastard Lord of House Sorley.

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(POV Change: Celestia 3rd person)

The cold, night breeze of Canterlot fluttered through the Solar Monarch's flowing, rainbow mane, as she gazed out at her sister's handiwork from atop the balcony of her room. While the day, and in turn her sun, were of glorious magnificence that she was proud of, Luna's nights always seemed to hold a profound beauty that were unrivaled in their dark, mysterious depths.

Releasing a sigh, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the mountain air that encompassed her, breathing deeply from the soothing crispness of it's icy nip, in an attempt to let the stress of the day wash away from her. It had been almost a month now, with no word back from Nightingale, Luna's Night Guard captain, and she was beginning to feel very worried.

She sent the young, experienced mare out for assignment months ago, with her sister's blessing, and within the last month, she had gone completely silent. Usually, Celestia would receive reports and word from the Guard Captain biweekly, and being the punctual mare she was, she would never miss a letter. When the first two weeks went by, and a letter wasn't received, Celestia did not dwell on it, assuming that mare was deep in her investigations. When another week had passed with no word, he began to worry about the Nightingale. Now that it had been a full month, Celestia had begun fearing the worst.

What if the Minotaurs had found her, and imprisoned her, or worse, killed her?

Celestia was a kind and benevolent ruler, and never wished to send any of her subjects towards any kind of harm, but the Minotaurs to the west, especially the Empress, were beginning to concern her heavily. They had already expanded into Griffonia, and several other smaller kingdoms, by swift and brutal force; by now, only the Gem Vale stood between Equestria and Minotaur Empire of Sanfaran, and she began to fear heavily for her western allies. Something, though, had halted the Minotaur advance at the Gem Vale border, and now the two lands were in a bitter stalemate. And the monarch wanted to know exactly what.

Luna, her ever affirmative sister, suggested sending a spy to Sanfaran, to seek what troubled the Minotaurs enough to halt, and the young Night Captain volunteered. The fact that Nightingale had disappeared was just another sorrow to add to the mountain of bad news that flowed from beyond her borders.

Before Celestia could dwell on it anymore, the doors to her bedroom burst inward, as her sister rushed into the room.

"Sister! I have news!"

Turning from the balcony, Celestia entered into her room to meet her sister, noticing the look of urgency upon her face. The news must've been dire for Luna to leave Night Court to personally show this to her.

"Luna? What is it? Is it word from Nightingale?!"

"Nay, dear sister," Luna replied, her tone in distress, as her horn flared up, levitating a piece of parchment towards Celestia, "It's from them, Celly. From the wastelands. They have her. They have Nightingale."

Taking the letter from her sister, Celestia began to read the message, each line causing her heart to sink further and further as she took in every word. By this time, she thought that she would never hear from the those....creatures ever again, since they were last expelled, never mind the fact that they actively were seeking her out, but the question stood: How did they acquire Nightingale? How did the Changelings get her, when she should've been miles westward?!

"Did you read what they wanted?" Luna asked, staring at her sister, a silent fury burning in her irises.

"Yes," Celestia responded, floating the letter to the nearest table, "But why would they want to meet with us? Why would they be holding Nightingale, just to have a meeting without a ransom. It doesn't make sense."

"A better question, sister, is who is this one called The Chamberlain? If I could, I would banish that pest to the moon twenty times over, for the next thousand years, if he harmed one hair upon her mane!"

"Bronach Turlough," Celestia replied, her gaze hardening to a thoughtful look, "That's his name. He's the head of a Changeling noble house called Turlough, and supposedly the most powerful over there. From my recollection, the Turloughs are an ancient house, forming a century after your imprisonment, sister, and have been a power house there ever since. They're dangerous, Luna."

"Well, are we going to meet this Chamberlain, than?" Luna asked, tapping her hooves against the tiles of Celestia's floor, "Or shall I obliterate that pitiful excuse for a kingdom off the face of Equis? Dangerous or not, she has my child of the night, and I will not have her a captive of that wasteland longer then I have to! Could we not send Twilight and the Elements to rescue her?"

Celestia shook her head at the idea, "No, sister, I don't want to risk losing them over there, with the situation with Minotaurs so close at hoof; it would be best to leave them out of this. This was our decision, Luna, we must fix this mistake ourselves. We will meet Chrysalis and this Turlough Chamberlain-"

"And the Breag Naofa."

Celestia cocked an eyebrow at that name. It was a name that she was nor familiar with.

"Who?"

"It's at the bottom of the letter," Luna replied, scanning through the letter again, "It says that with the convoy of representatives, one called the Breag Naofa would be attending as well at the Queen's behest. Who is that, Celly?"

Celestia pondered on that. Though she and her sister were old, she was not as versed in the Changeling society as she should have been, considering they were one of the few races they were not in contact with much.

"I don't know, Luna, but we will have to do some research before a letter is sent in response. I want to know more about this new Turlough, and I want to know who, or what, this Breag Naofa is."