Chapters

Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 2
Chapter 1

Chapter 3
View Online

An Encounter With a Princess

Chapter 3

***

"One...two....three—"

"Mmmmrghh!"

Stout Hoof's muscles tensed a fourth time as he pushed forward, hindlegs kicking out behind him. He grunted for a moment, his hooves scrabbling against the surrounding stonework.

"Almost....guhh."

Sighing, the colt hung his head, his legs going limp.

He was stuck.

Great.

He sighed again.

Just his luck.

Several hooves into the tunnel that had beckoned with the lure of freedom only a short while earlier, Stout Hoof had quickly come to realize how deceptive its promises had been.

Now—after several minutes of squirming and shoving—he was stuck fast, the walls of the narrow crevice pressing firmly against his sides and back.

This particular crack in the wall, it seemed, had not been made with young earth colts in mind.

The colt narrowed his eyes.

That was the last time he trusted ghostly shadows to lead the way to freedom.

He shook his head, taking a deep breath. Tensing his legs, he readied himself for another attempt.

"Mmmmphh!"

Stout Hoof pushed again, harder this time. His hooves scrabbled against the stone around him. He could feel himself slide forward a few fractions of an inch before his energy gave out.

His limbs flopped to the ground again.

Horsefeathers.

This was starting to look bad.

Stout Hoof sighed again, his thoughts wandering back to the forge. He winced as he remembered the parcel, left back with his satchel where his cloak had fallen off. Steel Wing had trusted him with those forms. Now the papers were lost for good, no doubt trampled into dust by the massive crowds he'd seen earlier.

He glanced glumly at his hooves.

Some swordstallion he'd turned out to be. He couldn't even deliver a parcel for his mentor when he asked.

The colt could feel tears starting to well up at the corners of his eyes.

Steel Wing deserved a better student than him. All he had managed to do was get into trouble, even after all the pegasus had done for him.

Memories of their conversation that morning echoed back across the colt's mind.

"You really think so, Steel Wing? You think I can be a swordstallion, someday, too?

"There's nothing I'm more certain of figilo—nothing I'm more certain of at all."

"...nothing I'm more certain of at all."

Stout Hoof narrowed his eyes. He could feel a spark of determination light in his chest.

Steel Wing wouldn't lie. If Steel Wing thought he had what it took to become a swordstallion, he would do everything he could to show him he was right.

"One...two...three!"

Stout Hoof grunted, throwing himself forward with all the strength he could muster. The wall pinched at his sides as tightly as it had before, but the colt didn't allow the thought to phase him. He gritted his teeth, hooves scraping against the stone. He just had to push harder.

"C'mon legs, c'mon! Almost...there..."

Stout Hoof's eyes widened as he felt himself begin to slide forward. The moonlight creeping in at the other end of the tunnel grew just a little brighter in his eyes.

He grinned. He was doing it!

Bracing himself, he doubled his efforts, hooves windmilling against the ground beneath him in a blur.

Kerrr-POP!

With the sound of a cork coming loose from a bottle, Stout Hoof's sides finally slipped through the narrow center of the tunnel. Eyes going wide, he somersaulted forward, tumbling head over hooves back into the moonlight.

"Gah! Guh! Gummphh!."

Three impacts and a mouthful of dirt later, the colt rolled to a stop. As his spinning vision finally began to settle, his eyes widened at the sight around him.

Staring out into the night air for the second time that evening, he was taken aback by the view before him. The escape route of the shadowy figure had brought him to the edge of a grassy outcrop nestled against the side of the mountain. Below him, Stableworth sat beneath the nighttime sky, the twinkling glow of the moon and stars bathing its buildings and streets in pale blue light.

Beyond the city walls, Stout Hoof could see an ocean of trees stretching far off into the horizon, leading all the way to where the western mountains held the edges of the sky in a silent embrace.

The young colt’s irises widened in wonder.

Never before had the rest of the world seemed so...big. So...open. So….real.

An unfamiliar feeling, an excited restlessness, stirred in Stout Hoof's chest.

Stableworth was all he had ever known, but he suddenly felt the urge to run off and leave it far, far behind. To strike out on his own. To see things. To do things. To explore the world that lay before him under the sparkling sky.

A light sigh of content escaped into the air beside him. It took him a moment to realize it wasn't his.

With a start, the colt whipped his head toward the source of the noise.

Not twenty strides from where he stood lay the shadow he'd seen earlier, resting alongside a small, leafy tree that protruded from the outcrop’s edge. At the rustle of his sudden movement, the figure’s head swiveled back to meet him, its dark hood falling back in the process.

The colt's eyes widened.

It was her.

Under the pale glow of the moonlight, the coat of the young, unicorn mare he'd seen on the carriage shone like fresh snowfall against the sky behind her. Her pink mane was drawn up in the same elegant ponytail, and the same gold tiara—the magenta gemstone at its center—lay nestled atop her forehead.

Her brilliant eyes, the same color as the gemstone, met with his.

The soft chirp of crickets sounded in the distance. Stout Hoof could dimly feel the same sense of weightlessness he'd experienced earlier creeping over his senses. His hooves once again felt both light and firmly affixed to the ground.

Silence filled the space between them, the mare's gaze holding his.

A few moments later, the mare nodded her head.

"Hello."

Stout Hoof’s shoulders relaxed as the word washed over him in a wave. Her voice was like birdsong—almost musical—but with an unmistakable firmness at its core. An underlying sense of confidence and grace becoming of a mare far beyond her years.

Averting his gaze, the colt was suddenly very conscious of his haphazard appearance. He glanced down at his coat. The dirt, grime, and ash of the day’s adventures clung to him like a second skin.

Letting out a nervous sigh, he slowly lifted his eyes to meet the young mare's gaze.

Warmth rising in his cheeks, he nodded softly.

"Hello."

Again, silence hung in the air. Stout Hoof's hooves remained frozen in place, his eyes locked on the unicorn’s gentle form.

The mare studied him for a few moments, eyes passing over his figure with curiosity. A small smile lit her lips as she seemed to come to a decision. She spoke again, her voice a bit more playful than it had been before.

“What is your name?”

Shuffling his hooves, the colt straightened his shoulders.

“Stout Hoof. What’s...um...yours?

“Celestia.”

“C-celestia?”

A light smile spread across the mare’s lips. Stout Hoof felt his heart leap at the sight.

“Yes, but Tia is fine. My mother and sister call me Tia.”

The colt offered a small, awkward smile of his own in return.

“Oh. Tia.”

A memory of a grinning Steel Wing nudging his shoulder flashed across the colt's mind.

"A true gentlecolt always pays his respect to a mare with a complement, Stout Hoof. Remember that."

The colt's eyes widened.

Complement. Complement. Complement.

"Ummm..."

The colt's eyes darted back and forth studying the mare's figure. Her eyes. Her coat. Her cloak. Her tiara.

He raised a hoof, his eyes locking on the first thing he could think of.

“I really like your—um—mane?”

Another long silence.

The colt facehoofed internally.

Great.

To his surprise, however, the mare seemed to take his comment in stride, smiling, then chuckling as she saw Stout Hoof stare back at her confusion.

"Thank you, Stout Hoof."

She flashed him another smile, the colt's heart leaping in his chest a second time. The mare held his gaze, nodding to the ground beside her after a moment.

“Would you like to sit with me? The night sky is beautiful.”

"Um...sure."

Nodding, Stout Hoof slowly approached the young mare beneath the tree. Her eyes remained locked on his as he stopped just short of her side. Clearing his throat, Stout Hoof nodded again, dropping down beside her.

Watching as he made himself comfortable in the grass, the mare offered another warm smile before turning her gaze back to the view before them. The colt’s eyes followed suit.

Sitting next to one another, the two looked over the quiet city below. The chirp of crickets had died down, only the whisper of the breeze audible in the cool air beneath the moonlight. The lightest wisps of pink were visible on the horizon at the far edge of the purple sky. Morning wasn't far off.

The colt stared forward, the restless excitement his chest from earlier rising once again. He glanced at the unicorn beside him.

"It's...pretty. Really pretty."

Meeting his eyes, the mare nodded and smiled.

“Yes. It is.”

She nodded toward the horizon with her horn.

“I come out here every morning to wait for the sunrise.”

The colt tilted his head, watching the mare's brow furrow faintly as her eyes drifted down to her hooves..

“Mother and Father don’t allow me leave the castle walls very often. This is the only time I can see the sky like this, myself."

Stout Hoof nodded, shifting his gaze to the ground as well. He could understand how she felt, somewhat.

Not that Steel Wing ever made him feel like a prisoner or anything—Stout Hoof could never repay the pegasus for all that he had done for him. But life at the forge was repetitive some days, even with their regular trips. At times, he couldn't help but feel the same way. Like he was trapped in one place. Stuck.

“Oh. I see.”

The colt fiddled with his hooves, unsure of what else to say. He glanced back at the mare, studying her profile. His eyes drifted back to her tiara.

"Tia?"

The mare lifted her eyes, tilting her head.

"Yes?"

"Are...um...are you a princess?"

The mare turned to Stout Hoof, frowning slightly. After pausing for a few moments, she finally spoke.

"Yes. Is that...alright?"

Stout Hoof could feel a small puff of confidence fill his chest. He nodded, offering the mare a reassuring smile.

“I don’t mind.”

The mare smiled back, letting out another small laugh.

"Mm. Good."

She tilted her head to the side.

"And what about you, Stout Hoof? What are you?"

The colt lifted a hoof to his chin in thought.

Nopony had ever really asked him that before. He was a lot of things. An assistant. An apprentice blacksmith. But there was one thing he wanted to be more than anything.

“I’m a swordstallion.”

The mare raised an eyebrow at his response, looking him over a second time.

"A swordstallion?"

Stout Hoof nodded, feeling a grin break over his muzzle.

"Mm. A swordstallion in training."

He straightened his shoulders.

"Steel Wing is teaching me how to be one when we're not working at the forge. He says that someday I can be a royal guard for the castle like he was."

The mare nodded, her smile returning.

“Is Steel Wing your father, then?”

Father.

The colt winced as old memories flashed through his mind at the word.

The smell of smoke. Something burning? Fire? Screaming. Shouting. Pain. Red hot pain.

The colt forced the thoughts out of his mind. He shook his head.

“No. My father died a long time ago. When I was a foal.”

The unicorn’s smile faded.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

The colt could feel a small pang of guilt at the mare's expression. He hadn't meant to make her apologize.

She met his gaze again.

"...and your mother?"

Stout Hoof shook his head.

"No. She's gone, too."

"Oh."

Stout Hoof could see the mare nod again, her eyes slowly shifting back to the ground before her. The colt could see her pink mane fall over her shoulder, resting softly against the grass.

Stout Hoof studied her for a moment—chiding himself for ruining the mood—before turning his gaze back to the city beyond.

The warm glow of morning had already begun to pick up on the horizon, the speckling of stars growing dimmer with the approaching dawn. Hints of orange were just beginning to break over the mountaintops. It was almost enough to make him forget the thoughts that had just been stirred up.

Stout Hoof tensed as something warm suddenly brushed against him. Glancing at his side, he could see the unicorn mare shift in, meeting his eyes with her own. Offering him a small nod, she leaned in, resting her head against his shoulder.

There were no words between them. They weren't needed. The gesture said enough.

After a few moments, the colt could feel the dark thoughts begin to melt away with the calm breathing and steady heartbeat of the body next to his. Careful not to brush her horn, he leaned over and rested his own head against the mare’s.

Closing his eyes, he could feel warmth spread across his face as the first rays of the sun broke into the sky. He knew he was missing the view, but it didn't bother him.

He exhaled, the calm warmth spreading through his chest.

Despite the troubles he had braved to get there. All the close calls he'd had. It had been worth it. If only just for this.

Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.

Stout Hoof could feel his ears twitch, shifting at the sudden sound of distant wind. As he opened his eyes to glance around, he could suddenly feel the mare tense at his side. Lifting his head from hers, he glanced down confusion lighting his own expression as he saw a worried look pass across her face. Her ponytail shifted in front of her as she started to glance back and forth.

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Stout Hoof's stomach. He turned his head toward the mare.

“Tia, what’s wrong?”

Stout Hoof could see a new feeling—concern, fear—in the mare's movements. She met his eyes, nodding toward the sky.

“Do you hear that?”

Frowning, Stout Hoof followed her gaze.

“Hear what—”

The colt's reply was cut short as a heavy figure blindsided him, tearing him from the princess’s side and launching him into the air as it tore upward from beneath the overlook’s edge. Somersaulting wildly, the colt landed on the hard earth several hoove away, a sickening snap piercing the air. A sharp pain tore through the colt's hindleg as something inside was twisted out of place.

“Augh!”

"Stout Hoof!"

Stout Hoof rolled onto his side, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. The world was spinning beneath him. It was hard to breathe.

What was going on?

At the edge of the colt's blurring vision, a second dark shape appeared in the air, diving down in his direction. Gritting his teeth as his leg continued to throb, Stout Hoof launched himself into a haphazard roll. The flying shadow’s hooves impacted heavily against the earth where his head had been a moment before.

“Stout Hoof!"

Snapping his head in the direction of Tia's voice, Stout Hoof could see two more of the shadowy figures—now discernible as pegasai in the growing light—landing at the mare's sides. Both had dark grey coats and were clad head to tail in dense, black armor.

A rush of panic seized the colt's limbs. Soldiers. His earlier memories resurfaced in an instant.

“Tia!”

Staggering to his hooves, Stout Hoof grunted, choking back a cry as his injured leg crumpled beneath him. Struggling to stay upright, the colt watched the two armored figures grab the princess on either side, rushing her back in the direction of the castle wall. Struggling to break free of their grasp, the mare glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes meeting with his.

“Stout Hoof, run! I’ll be fine. Run!”

A sharp gasp of pain passed her lips as one of the armored pegasai placed an armored hoof over the back of her neck, turning the mare away from him. At the sound, Stout Hoof felt something flare to life in his chest. He thought of the forge. His training. Steel Wing.

A royal guard wouldn't just sit by and let this happen.

Stout Hoof narrowed his eyes. A burst of energy coursing its way into his battered body, he charged forward, the pain in his hindleg momentarily forgotten.

Launching himself toward the nearest of the mare's captors—its attention still focused on Tia—Stout Hoof extended his combat rod and swung.

Crack! The rod made contact with the distracted pony's hindleg.

“BUCK!”

The pegasus cursed, whipping around on hoof. With a sharp click, the stallion extended a weapon of his own—a long silver blade—sweeping it out toward the colt's side in a blur.

Still off balance from his injury, Stout Hoof's reaction came a split second too late.

Splurch.

The fire in the colt's blood suddenly turned to ice. Time seemed to slow. Turning his head toward his side, Stout Hoof could see blood—his blood—flowing freely from a long, dark gash that had opened up along his flank.

His eyes followed the stream of red to the grass. A pool of it had already begun to form on the ground below.

The colt fell.

"No!"

The sounds around the colt suddenly sounded distant, as if he were hearing them underwater. His vision swimming, he slowly turned his gaze in the direction of Tia's voice. A cold chill had begun to work its way through his body. He couldn't feel his left leg.

He could feel his thoughts began to drift.

What was...what was going on?

Dark spots began to appear at the edges of the colt's vision.

He watched in stunned confusion as a blurry Tia suddenly reared back and then forward, landed a well-placed buck into the side of the other captor at her side. He could hear a distant grunt echo from the surprised pegasus as he stumbled back half a step.

It was all the opportunity the mare needed. Stout Hoof could see her race forward in his direction, her eyes wide—her expression devastated—her shouts still echoing in his ears.

Her hooves weren't quick enough. Spinning around, the first pegasus whipped forward, flicking its blade back into place as it caught the edge of the mare's cloak in its teeth. The sound of fabric ripping tore through the ringing noises that had risen in Stout Hoof's ears.

He could see Tia pitch forward, landing on the grass a hoof's length away. Her flowing, dark cloak had been torn free from her shoulders, revealing the entirety of her previously veiled frame.

Stout Hoof's eyes were immediately drawn to the two feathery appendages that he could now see rising from beneath her shoulders.

Wings. She had wings.

Even with the tendrils of cold snaking through his body, threatening to overtake his thoughts, the colt could feel his eyes widen.

But...she was a unicorn. That didn't make any sense.

"H-how?..."

Stout Hoof's thoughts were broken as a shadow fell between himself and the princess. Blade at the ready, a third pegasus hovered above him, its figure outlined by the sky. More pegasai, several more, were bearing down from above, flying in from the background.

A numbness settled in over the earth pony’s body as he watched the attacker's hoof draw back in anticipation of a finishing blow. The colt froze, unable to move. This was it.

The soldier's blade began to fall.

At the edge of Stout Hoof's dimming vision, another metallic glint suddenly caught his eye.

Huh?

The looming pegasus appeared to take notice of the movement as well, stopping and turning just in time to take the blow of the diving figure head on. The colt’s attacker suddenly vanished in a blur of black, followed simultaneously by the crunch of ribs and the grating sound of twin blades extending from their combat sheaths.

Like an echo, the sound of a half dozen other blades in the sky above answered a moment later.

Stout Hoof’s forced his head to turn, his vision fading. Slowly, his eyes came to rest on the figure of the dark coated stallion that had placed himself between him and the five remaining pegasai attackers.

Poised gracefully on two hooves, blades at the ready, the grey-maned pegasus stood in the same, familiar stance that Stout Hoof had practiced against a thousand times before.

Steel Wing.

Whether he had spoken the name aloud or simply thought it, the colt couldn't tell. His attention was fully devoted to his mentor. As the first of the pegasai near the princess stepped forward to meet him, striking low, an unexpected memory flashed before the colt’s eyes.

He was a foal again. His father was working as a packhorse for a traveling ballet. It was just past nightfall and his mother laid asleep in his parents’ bed—little more than a linen-covered haystack—sick with a cough she caught earlier that week. His father lifted a hoof to his lips in silence, motioning his head toward the door. Unsure of what to do, Stout Hoof followed.

His father led him out from their small, patchwork hovel toward a larger domed tent across the field they were camped in. Smiling ear to ear, the older blue stallion again motioned for silence, then swept away a small section of tent fabric.

Stout Hoof watched, eyes wide, at the shapes moving about within. Drifting across the stage with an almost eerie grace, it was if the performers had transformed into something other than the ponies they once were. Wind, water, air, fire—they were each there own element—more than just simple dancers. In the background, an orchestra played softly, its haunting melody only adding to the spellbinding scene.

The same haunting tune drifted into Stout Hoof’s mind as he watched his mentor step forward to meet them. Six pegasai, twelve blades, bodies armored and powerful.

They never had a chance.

Steel Wing was an artist, the battlefield, his stage. Sidestepping, parrying, lunging without hesitation—Stout Hoof was not watching a fight, but a performance.

As darkness finally overtook his vision, the colt was only dimly aware of the white mare that had rushed to his side. Though numb from the neck down, he could sense the faintest tingle—almost a pinprick—issue forth from the gash in his flank as something pressed against it. The faintest hum of magic filtered into his ears from the background.

The bulk of his attention, however, remained fixed on the sounds of blades glancing off one another before him. His ears could just register the calls of “Stand down! Stand down!” as they echoed from a voice far off in the distance.

"Steel Wing...Tia...."

Eyelids sliding shut, Stout Hoof's words faded off as he sank back into nothingness.

He hadn’t even noticed the two identical marks that had appeared on his sides.

***

Chapter 4
View Online

An Encounter With a Princess

Chapter 4

***

Hisss-crackle-POP!

The colt’s eyes fluttered open at the sound.

Huh?

Sitting straight up in the bed, Stout Hoof let out an involuntary gasp as a sharp, piercing sensation lanced through his side. Immediately, he fell backwards, his hooves scrabbling toward its source.

The raw, throbbing pain continued to bite at him from his left flank.

What..how...why?

Gritting his teeth, the colt cast his gaze downwards. A plain, red quilt covered his lower half, the thick fabric resting heavily against his coat.

He lifted an eyebrow in confusion.

He was...in bed?

Stout Hoof lifted a hoof to his brow. It was difficult to focus. A thick fog had settled in over his mind, blending his thoughts together. For some reason, he didn't seem to have any recollection of getting into bed the night before.

In fact...

The colt searched his thoughts. He couldn't even remember where he had been before waking up.

What was going on?

Chewing at his lip, he tried to focus more intensely, but the memories wouldn't come. Colt, was it hard to think with that fire burning in his side. His eyes returned to the bed, shaking his head.

First things first, I guess.

Gingerly, Stout Hoof leaned forward, gripping the quilt in his teeth, and tugged. The thick covering slid with surprising ease, revealing the rest of his figure.

The colt tensed—a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach as his eyes fell on his left side.

A heavily bandaged limb stared back at him, bound tightly in cream-colored cloth.

My...leg?

His vision slowly adjusting to the dim light, Stout Hoof could make out several dark blotches staining the material that covered his hip. Somepony’s blood—his blood?—had soaked through the cloth, drying in dark red patches. A metal bar had been lashed against the bandaged limb as well, holding it straight and rigid against the bed.

Stout Hoof studied his lower half for another moment. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to lift the immobilized limb

"Eugh-gah!"

Another pain—sharper than before—immediately tore through the colt’s side as he flexed. Crying out in surprise, he drove his back into the mattress, fighting back the tears that had sprung up at the edge of his vision.

Buck!

Closing his eyes, Stout Hoof tried to control his breathing. Long, even breaths, just like Steel Wing had taught him.

He nodded, inhaling. Exhaling.

The movement of his chest began to slow. After a few moments, the pain slowly began to subside.

The same couldn't be said for his anxiety, however. The icy feeling the colt's stomach dropped another degree, his eyes settling on his bandaged limb.

Why hadn't his leg moved?

Hisss-pop!

The warm sizzle of the crackling fire sounded a second time. Wincing, Stout Hoof forced his attention away from the battered limb and studied the room around him. His earlier confusion began to resurface.

The familiar oak walls of his room at the forge surrounded him. Through the one window at his side, he could see Stableworth Wood lying in the darkness of night. The sky was overcast though—he couldn't make out any sign of the moon or stars.

The colt tilted his head back toward the hearth. It crackled warmly on the opposite wall, its dim flicker casting shadows in the otherwise unlit chamber.

Stout Hoof watched as the dark shapes danced about the room. Bare as they were, the rough timber walls still radiated with the warmth of home. He glanced back to the quilt that had been draped over his body and nodded to himself.

Whatever it was that had happend, Steel Wing must have—

Steel Wing!

Stout Hoof’s body went rigid as memories of the night before came flooding back to him.

The guards. The castle. Steel Wing jumping in at the last moment—

“Steel Wing!”

At the sound of the colt’s shout, a dark figure suddenly burst through the door, its hooves poised and its head scanning in every direction. Realization seemed to hit the figure after a moment, and it dropped his stance, hooves falling back onto the floor.

Slowly, the figure turned, its gaze passing over the colt.

To Stout Hoof, it appeared as if the weight of the world had suddenly been lifted from his mentor’s shoulders. Before his eyes, Steel Wing's tense gaze slowly melted into a relieved smile. Between the dark lines encircling his eyes and the matted appearance of his graying mane, it looked as if the pegasus hadn’t slept in days.

Regardless of his appearance, though, he ran to Stout Hoof's side with the gait of a stallion half his age.

“Mmmph!”

The young earth pony was taken aback as his mentor collapsed on top of him, pulling him into an embrace.

"Figilo—" The stallion's voice shook as he spoke "—I thought I'd lost you."

Stout Hoof couldn't find the words to respond.

As far back as he could remember, Steel Wing had always made an effort to show how much he cared about him. But it had always been through words. A playful tussle of his mane at most.

Never...never like this.

The colt felt his own eyes start to grow wet. Though Steel Wing had never said it, Stout Hoof knew the pegasus felt guilty for trying to take the place of his parents.

What the stallion didn't know—what he couldn't know—was that, in Stout Hoof's mind, he was as much a father to him as his real father had been.

"St-Steel Wing."

Throwing his own forehooves around his mentor, the colt returned the stallion's embrace. A comfortable sigh escaped from the pegasus and he released him after a few moments, becoming his usual, reserved self once again. Stepping back from Stout Hoof, he settled onto a stool that had been drawn up to the side of the bed.

“How are you feeling?” The stallion asked, his voice soft. The tired look in his eyes was still there.

"I..."

Stout Hoof frowned, the words coming with difficulty. His tongue felt like leather. He coughed once, clearing what he could from his throat.

"I'm alright, I think—”

Tia.

The name, a whispered memory, echoed in the back of Stout Hoof's mind. His eyes immediately widened, a sense of dread seizing his limbs.

Tia! Where was Tia?

Ignoring the pain in his side, the colt sat upright, his eyes searching for Steel Wing's.

“Tia! Is she—”

"It's alright, Stout Hoof—"

The stallion reached forward placing a hoof against the colt's chest.

"—the princess is well."

The assurance was all but lost on Stout Hoof. He continued to struggle forward beneath his mentor's hoof, his own hooves searching for traction against the sheets beneath him.

“But, the soldier! The pegasai soldiers! They captured her! They—”

“Not soldiers, figilo. Not captors. The guard. The king's guard.”

A look of bewilderment crossed Stout Hoof's face. Half formed images of the armored pegasai swam through his memory.

Had their attackers really just been guards?

The colt thought for a moment before speaking.

“Then why did they…?”

“Attack?” Steel Wing finished his sentence for the colt as he trailed off. The pegasai's eyes took on a serious look as he met the younger pony's gaze.

“They thought you a threat to the princess, Stout Hoof.”

A threat?

“A threat?”

Stout Hoof words echoed his thoughts. The guards had thought he had been a threat?

Lifting his hooves to his temples, the colt shook his head back and forth as he tried to respond.

“But Tia—the princess—she went out there by herself. We were talking—I wasn’t, I wouldn’t…”

Steel Wing nodded slowly, a look of understanding crossing his face. He lifted a hoof to silence the colt.

“I know Stout Hoof, I know. The princess made that clear once everything settled down.”

Stout Hoof nodded and was quiet for a moment. The pain radiating from his bandaged leg had flared up again in his excitement, making it difficult to focus. One thought, however, still managed to pierce the fog of his discomfort.

How had he made it out the night before?

Closing his eyes, Stout Hoof did his best to recall the events of the previous night. Blurry images of fireworks, swords, and the white coated mare danced through his mind as he tried to gain a solid hoofhold on his thoughts. Pushing ahead to his last memory, he could feel his stomach sink a little further.

Steel Wing.

Steel Wing had once been a royal guard himself, years ago.

An image of Steel Wing surrounded by armored pegasai flashed through his mind.

What exactly had he made his mentor do?

His voice a whisper, Stout Hoof looked up to the pegasus.

“What…what happened to the guards then?"

He could feel his voice catch in his throat.

"Did you have to…?”

Steel Wing shook his head side to side, patting his apprentice on the shoulder.

“No need to worry figilo, we haven’t become fugitives.”

Lifting one of his ever-armed forelegs, the pegasus indicated a sharp point protruding from the sword sheathed within its shoulder case.

“A good swordstallion knows when to take a life…”

The stallion motioned to his other forelimb, where a second weapon, a heavy steel baton, protruded from its own casing.

“…and when not to.”

Settling back into his stool, the stallion smiled, a slight bounce of pride lighting his voice.

“Those ragazzi were lucky that their captain showed up when they did. Had he not recognized me and told them to stand down, I may not have had the luxury of treating them so…”

The older pegasus casually brushed a patch of nonexistent dust from his shoulder.

“…lightly.”

Stout Hoof tilted his head a second time.

“The captain? Of the guard? You know each other?”

Steel Wing closed his eyes for and chuckled warmly.

“Aye there, figilo. Trained him, even.”

The stallion lifted a hoof to his chin as his mind fell back on old memories.

“Sharp Edge was always a much more level headed stallion than most.” A grin broke over his moustached face. “Glad he had the sense to realize a scrawny colt and an old pegasus past his prime weren’t really the types to abduct a royal heir.”

Despite the dull ache that had settled in over his body, Stout Hoof smiled. If Steel Wing considered himself past his prime now, the colt could only imagine what it would have been like to see him in his heyday.

Glancing down to his side once again, however, Stout Hoof's smile waned. Steel Wing's battle wasn't the only thing he had remembered from the night before.

Speaking quietly, he looked up to the pegasus.

“Tia—the princess. She saved me, didn’t she?”

Steel Wing's face fell slightly. He nodded.

“That cut you suffered…" he motioned to the colt's side, "...it was bleeding. Badly.”

The stallion paused for a moment and coughed into his side, discreetly wiping a hoof over his eyes before he continued.

“But a little ali—unicorn magic goes a long way. She didn’t leave your side until the healers had come.”

Stout Hoof sat in silence for a moment. He couldn't help but recall the warm feeling of the mare’s head resting on his shoulder. The soft wisp of her breathing in his ears. The intensity of her gaze locked with his own.

Eyes downcast, he finally spoke.

“I won’t see her ever again, will I?”

A pained look crossed his mentor’s face.

“I’m sorry figilo. No. Trespassing on castle grounds, intentionally or otherwise, is not taken lightly. Even as a member of the old guard, it was all I could do to convince them not to have you taken away."

Steel Wing's eyes fell to the floor.

"Had I not served as Sharp Edge’s mentor for so many years, I doubt he would have let me have even that.”

Stout Hoof’s could feel his expression falter. Closing his eyes, he pictured Tia in his mind, straining to etch every detail he could into his memory.

The chances of them meeting each other like that...it almost didn't seem real. As if fate had had a hoof in it. To think that he would never see her again...

Stout Hoof shook his head.

He wouldn't forget her.

Looking over his mental image of the mare for a few moments, however, there was one detail he couldn't help but question.

Cracking his eyelids open, Stout Hoof glanced back up to Steel Wing, a confused expression crossing his face.

“Steel Wing. She was a unicorn...with wings."

Steel Wing tensed visibly at the statement, his own feathery appendages tightening against his sides.

"Ah. So you do remember."

The stallion paused for a moment, letting out a deep breath before responding.

“Yes, Stout Hoof. The princess...she's an alicorn.”

Ali-what? The word sounded foreign, even in Stout Hoof's head. He opened his mouth in question, but Steel Wing had already begun to speak again.

“Stout Hoof, it is important that you don’t speak of this with anyone. Do you understand? Anyone. Sharp Edge may have once been my student, but he is duty bound to Stableworth and her King as I was…” the stallion's eyes shifted to the crackling hearth, “…and still am.”

He looked back to Stout Hoof, his expression serious. Stern.

“It was only because of his trust in me that the King was not made privy to what we saw last night.”

Stout Hoof met the stallion's tired eyes. He tried not to wince. As strong as Steel Wing tried to be for him, age was catching up to him.

“There are many things riding on keeping this secret safe figilo. It is not only you and I that have something to lose should this knowledge come to light. The safety of the King and Queen, Stablesworth…”

He raised a hoof and motioned to Stout Hoof’s bandaged side.

“…and most of all, the young princess herself, rest on our silence. For her sake and yours, we must keep this to ourselves.”

Stout Hoof understood. If it meant keeping Tia—the princess—safe…

He nodded solemnly.

At his nod, the serious expression on his mentor’s face vanished into a proud smile. Reaching a hoof forward, he tussled the colt’s mane.

“That’s a good lad. I know you’ll do me proud.”

Proud.

Stout Hoof felt a pang of guilt run through his chest at the word.

Memories of the guardsmen ushering the white mare away from him played through his mind, taunting him. On the outside, however, he did his best to force a smile of appreciation.

Steel Wing wasn't so easily fooled, though. Raising an eyebrow, he tilted his head, speaking softly.

“What else is troubling you, figilo?”

Fidgeting with his hooves, Stout Hoof averted his eyes.

“You shouldn’t be proud,” he replied, his voice low as the knot building in his gut tightened. “I’m not like you Steel Wing...”

Stout Hoof was surprised to feel his eyes grow damp as dark thoughts began to cloud his mind.

He had run from the three pegasai guards at the parade. He had been helpless against the unicorn guard on the bridge. But, worst of all, he had failed to save Tia when he thought she was being taken. If anything, he'd just put her at risk. All because he was a foal. All because he didn’t have magic or wings.

All because he just wasn't good enough.

The words of the mace-toting pegasai guard echoed through his own voice.

“…I’m nothing but a worthless dirt pony.”

Stout Hoof flinched as Steel Wing suddenly stood up in his seat. With surprising roughness, his mentor took his chin in hoof, tilting the colt's head upwards to face his own.

The pegasus locked eyes with the colt and spoke slowly, his face flushed red with anger.

“I never want to hear you say those words again, Stout Hoof. Never. You are not worthless. Never say that you are worthless.”

That was the last straw for Stout Hoof.

He cried. The tears burned, and he hated them, but he cried just the same. The timeworn pegasus stayed at his side the entire time, his forelegs draped around the colt in a comforting embrace.

After a few long minutes, the tears in Stout Hoof’s eyes finally began to dry. Though exhausted—physically and mentally—relief had finally began to settle over his limbs. The dark thoughts still mingled about in the back of his mind, but the guilt that had seemingly gripped him from nowhere—it was gone.

Sensing the colt’s stillness, Steel Wing released his hold on the young earth pony and returned to his seat at the edge of the bed. Looking on the verge of tears himself, he spoke slowly to the bedridden colt.

“Stout Hoof, I am proud of you. As proud as I’ve ever been…” The stallion’s eyes drifted off for a moment, “…of anyone.”

He paused. Though the old stallion didn’t say it aloud, Stout Hoof was sure his thoughts had drifted to the memory of his own sons. Stout Hoof had never met either of them—they had fallen in battle long before he had been born. From the way he always overheard Steel Wing praying for them in his nightly vigil, though, he realized just how much saying that meant.

Another stray tear rolled down the colt's cheek.

The moment passed, and Steel Wing turned his attention to Stout Hoof. His voice was firm as ever.

“Figilo, this world may be full of those who doubt you, for your lack of wings, or a horn, but you must remember that they are just words. You, Stout Hoof, can be anything you wish to be. There is nopony that can tell you otherwise.”

A look of guilt crossed over the pegasai's face.

“I curse myself for not telling you of your...” his own wings twitched self-consciously “…situation before. It was dangerous and senseless of me to send you out there without letting you know how the world would treat you if they knew you were different.”

Steel Wing let out a long sigh and glanced to the side.

“I just...didn’t want you to feel less…less pony because of who you are, Stout Hoof. You are just as good as any unicorn or pegasus foal out there, no matter what others may think.”

The colt followed his mentor's eyes to the open window. A dimly glowing aura of light shimmered above the trees from Stableworth as the pegasus continued to speak.

“Stableworth is a strong place, a safe place…but not a perfect one. Ponies still hate. One would like to think that the unification of the three tribes would have done away with such stupidity…” his eyes took on a weary look borne of experience, “..but it hasn’t."

He turned back to the colt.

"Servitude, Stout Hoof. Servitude is what most here have come to expect of you and your people. But they are wrong to doubt those without magic or flight figilo. Wrong to doubt you.”

A shaky smile lit the old stallion's face.

“No, you didn’t defeat those guards in battle, but you did not cower in fear, either. You fought. Against all odds and numbers, you fought. And that’s what makes you a warrior.”

The stallion’s voice began to swell with passion.

“Tenacity, bravery, selflessness—a true warrior is not defined by the make of his blade or the swiftness of his hooves, but by the resolve he harbors within.”

Reaching forward, he pressed a hoof on the blanket covering Stout Hoof’s torso. The colt felt a flame light in his own own chest, as if the torch of his mentor’s pride had passed into him.

Steel Wing continued. “And you, Stout Hoof, you have more resolve than anypony I’ve ever seen—pegasus, unicorn, or otherwise. If you set your mind to becoming a swordstallion, you will become a swordstallion. And I swear on my honor, if that is what you choose, I will do everything in my power to help you become one.”

Despite the tiredness of his broken body, Stout Hoof smiled, confidence rising in his chest. The next words he spoke passed through his lips almost without thinking.

“You’re really proud of me...father?”

Father. He hadn't meant to say it. But, after his talk with the princess...it had just felt right.

At the word, Stout Hoof watched Steel Wing's composure break before his eyes, happy tears running down his cheeks. Placing a hoof over one of the colt's, he smiled, his old eyes beaming with warmth.

“Aye, my son, and I will be for as long as I live.”

Stout Hoof mirrored the smile. Grinning sleepily, his mouth widened into a yawn as a sudden wave of fatigue washed over him.

Steel Wing chuckled and patted the colt’s side.

“You should get some rest. You won’t become a master swordstallion without your sleep.”

Too weary to reply, Stout Hoof nodded tiredly as sleep tugged at his eyelids. The chatter of forest birds was already audible from the woods and—through the tiny window next to his bed—the first rays of sunshine had already begun to peek over the horizon.

As the colt's eyes slid shut, he felt Steel Wing tug the heavy quilt back up over his shoulder.

“As long as I live.”

***

Author's Note

Hope you all enjoyed reading these past few chapters. "Encounter" is actually a little piece I wrote about a year ago but never had the time to review and post until recently. As for now, Stout Hoof's story is complete, but who knows? Maybe his adventures in Stablesworth may turn up again down the road.

Chapter 2
View Online

An Encounter With a Princess

Chapter 2

***

Numb, tired, and sodden, Stout Hoof emerged at the far end of the city beneath a starry sky. Night had long since fallen over Stableworth.

The colt frowned at the realization, lifting his wet mane from his eyes.

Stealing away into a random gap in the road, it seemed, had not been the end of his troubles.

He had wandered through the maze of underground tunnels beneath the city for hours, searching blindly for any indication of an exit.

For a while, there had been nothing—just the inescapable cold of the underground stream and the everpresent drip, drip, drip of falling water. His progress had been agonizingly slow. Finally, though—countless turns and stumbles later—he'd come across a glimmer of hope. A faint light had caught his eye, reflecting off the waters of one of the smaller channels that branched off to his side.

Stout Hoof sighed. Who knew how long he would have been down there if he hadn't seen that light?

Shaking the water from his mane in the pale moonlight, he glanced up to study the scene before him.

From what the colt could see, the mouth of the oversized sewer pipe he stood in now lay at the bottom of shallow a ravine in the mountain's shadow. Running past his hooves, murky water poured out over the outflow’s mouth and into a small stream a few hooves below. From there, the gentle current flowed languidly through the rocky soil bed before disappearing around a small bend and into the mountainside itself.

The colt looked up.

Though his view of the sky was partially obscured by the walls of the ravine, he could still make out a streak of stars twinkling above him. Some twenty hooves ahead of him, he could make out a dark rectangle suspended overhead, spanning either side of the shallow divide.

A bridge.

Stout Hoof followed the blocky silhouette with his eyes, squinting through the shadows. Along the edge of the ravine, on the opposite bank, a set of steep stairs had been carved into the stone, leading from the bridge down to the stream below.

The colt shifted, glancing back toward the tunnel he had come from.

If his only other option was to go back the way he'd came...

Stout Hoof cast a wary glance back toward the stairs and the bridge beyond. Crouching down, he watched in silence, making sure there were no other ponies in sight.

Nodding to himself a minute later, he stood, peering out into the ravine as he stepped out from the culvert. His first hoofstep splashed unexpectedly as he broke the surface of the water.

The colt froze, lifting his hoof back up in mid stride. He crouched again. Waited.

Silence.

The colt could feel his shoulders relax. He let out another sigh of relief.

Dipping his other forehoof into the water—more slowly this time—Stout Hoof slowly continued forward, taking care to raise and lower his hooves into the stream as quietly as possible. With his cloak lost somewhere on the other side of the city, he didn’t want to risk letting anypony else see his wingless back again.

Reaching the edge of the stone staircase in a few strides, he gingerly pressed a hoof down on the first step. A crack ran down its center, but it held fast.

Satisfied, the colt put the rest of his weight forward and began making his way up the steps. The ravine wasn't deep—maybe twenty hooves or so, at most.

Clink!

Stout Hoof dropped to his stomach as the sudden clank of shifting armor rang out as he approached the top of the stairwell. Taking care to keep to the shadows, he peeked his head over the top of the last step.

At the far end of the bridge stood two unicorn guards talking quietly in the darkness. Just beyond them, less than a quarter mile off, was a large stone wall that stretched off toward the mountainside in both directions. A second, larger post of guards milled about the gate at its center. Through the metal bars behind them, Stout Hoof could see the soft glow of enchanted streetlights in the city beyond.

Wait. The city?

A bewildered expression passed across the colt's face, his muzzle scrunching in confusion.

He scratched at his head with a hoof.

If the city was on that side of the wall, then where exactly was—

Turning his head back in the direction of the mountainside, the colt's jaw dropped.

Standing not a hundred hooves behind him, the imposing shape of Stableworth castle towered over the awestruck colt, its marble walls glowing an otherworldly white in the moonlight. In the absence of the sun, the stained glass windows on the structure’s sides yawned before him like inky voids, giving the castle the foreboding look of a giant, burnt out lantern.

The colt's eyes widened, his hooves taking an involuntary step back. His mind was racing.

If the guards caught him on this side of the wall... This close to the castle...

The memory of his encounter with the three pegasai from before flashed through his mind.

Glancing back down into the ravine, the colt’s eyes were drawn to the open drain he had emerged from.

He bit his lip.

If he could just make it back down the stairwell without being seen, he could slip back into the sewers and find another way out of the city. It would be a long walk, but it would be better than taking his chances of getting caught here.

He nodded to himself, preparing to make his way back down the staircase. As long as the two guards stayed where they were, it wouldn't be too difficult to sneak back without them noticing.

“Hey, Flint. Flint. Flint Work!"

The colt's eyes widening, he could hear another voice rise up in the night air, a third stallion appearing from the darkness down the road ahead. Stout Hoof could see its silhouette point at one of the two guards with a hoof, its voice gruff and heavy with authority.

Stout Hoof darted back as the new figure's hoof swung back down toward the ravine.

"Flint Work! What’s that outflow down there doing uncovered?”

Lifting his head from the shadows, Stout Hoof peered over the top step a second time. The shouting stallion—a unicorn officer by the look of his long burgundy cape and beard—was staring daggers at the less confident looking guard before him, hoof tapping against his subordinate's chest in frustration.

The second unicorn shrugged sheepishly.

“Oh, um, that? Must’ve forgotten to cover it. A raccoon or something washed up there earlier today. Stank like Tartarus."

He lifted his forelegs up, miming a yanking motion with his hooves.

"It was really stuck in there—couldn't get it out with my magic—so I had to clear it out with—”

A swift hoof to the back of his head stopped the junior guard mid-sentence. The younger stallion took a surprised step back, frowning.

“Hey! What did you do that fo—”

The gruff voice of the older guard cut him off before he could finish.

“What kind of royal guard goes around leaving hatchways open for any foreign sons of cockatrices who might want to come slinking through in the middle of the night, huh?”

The youner unicorn spluttered a few unintelligible syllables in response before his cloaked superior answered his own question.

“A damn fool kind of one, that’s what kind!”

Seething, the older guard cocked his head to the side of the bridge.

“Now get down there and close that damn thing up, Flint. You may be my nephew, but if I catch you putting this post at risk again, I’ll see to it that you’re stationed so far from Stableworth that even your own mother will forget your face!”

With that, the bearded unicorn stormed off toward the gates, cape trailing along the ground behind him. Stout Hoof could see the other of the two bridge guards leave with him, leaving only the unicorn who'd been scolded behind.

Muttering curses under his breath, the younger guard turned on hoof. Hooves clopping against the stonework beneath him, he began to plod down toward the stairwell—right in the direction of Stout Hoof’s hiding place.

"Shhhp!"

The colt’s breath escaped him in an anxious gasp as he glanced around for any sign of cover. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the shadowed walkway before him.

There. Across the bridge. An old weapons cart had been parked along its edge, a long sheet of burlap draped loosely from its side. From where Stout Hoof stood, the narrow space between the floor of the cart and the stonework formed a tight, foal-sized gap, shrouded in darkness behind the hanging fabric.

He nodded to himself.

It was risky, but it would have to do. If he jumped down into the ravine now, the guard would see him right away.

Stout Hoof's eyes shot back down the bridge toward the advancing guard. Still grumbling, the stallion was looking over his shoulder toward the gates, shaking his head back and forth in a mocking impression of his surly superior.

"Look at me, I'm Captain Hardlock the hardass..."

Sensing his opportunity, Stout Hoof crept up over the lip of the stairwell and scurried across the bridge. His flank clipped the underside of the cart as he ducked behind the low hanging fabric.

Instantly the guard’s head swiveled forward, his eyes going wide.

"Oye?"

The colt sucked in his breath, shifting slowly so that he could peer out from the darkness.

The armored unicorn stood poised, his eyes carefully scanning the shadows before him. Slowly—agonizingly so—they passed over Stout Hoof’s hiding place before coming to rest back on the stairwell.

After a moment, the stallion shrugged.

"Eh. Must have been the wind."

Shifting in his armor, the stallion snorted and resumed his slow plod, disappearing over the top step of the staircase, still grumbling. A few moments later, the low hum of magic broke the still air, quickly followed by the heavy clunk of a metal gate falling into place.

The colt’s stomach dropped. He’d just lost his only exit.

Hoofsteps sounded from the stairwell as the younger guard appeared atop the bridge once more. Turning back toward his post at the far end, he lifted his hoof to step forward...and stopped. His gaze fell to his hooves, eyes directed on a set of wet hoofprints sitting before him.

Stout Hoof's eyes widened as he glanced at his own hooves.

Sure enough, they were still damp with water from the tunnels.

Oh buck.

Stout Hoof’s stomach fell even further as the guard’s eyes followed the prints forward, coming to rest on the darkness beneath the cart. A faint blue light shimmered from his horn as a long steel broadsword emerged from the sheath at his side.

“Oye. Who—who’s there?"

Stout Hoof sat still, holding his breath. He didn’t dare move.

Frowning, the guard took another step forward, moving as one with the shimmering weapon floating at his side.

“Who’s there?”

Again, Stout Hoof held his tongue.

As the guard started to move forward—slowly, cautiously—the colt wracked his brain for an idea, any idea, that might give him a way out.

Revealing himself wasn't an option. He couldn’t imagine what they would do to him if he was found on this side of the castle wall. It had been bad enough when they found out he was an earth pony.

Stout Hoof’s legs tensed.

He would have to make a break for it.

Biting his tongue, he glanced toward either side of the bridge. If he could just make it past the first swing of the unicorn’s blade then maybe, just maybe, he could outrun the heavily armored stallion and find a way over the castle walls. The main gate wasn't an option, but maybe there was another way out closer to the mountain itself.

The hairs on his back standing on end, the colt shifted nervously into a crouch, bracing his hind hooves against the wall behind him.

He would have to be quick.

Reaching the edge of the cart, the unicorn guard stopped. His blade hovered at his side, bobbing just out of Stout Hoof's range of vision. Slowly, the colt could see the guard lower his head, bringing it down to ground level.

BA-BOOM!

Without warning, a brilliant explosion of multicolored light lit up the dark sky above the castle, accompanied by a deafening boom that echoed through the night like a thunderclap.

No doubt the fireworks display had been scheduled long in advance to celebrate the King’s return, but to the unsuspecting guard and Stout Hoof, it was if the sky had suddenly decided to burst apart at random. The two jumped at the same time—Stout Hoof beneath the cart, the guard in front of it—their heads swiveling toward the sudden eruption of light and sound.

Stout Hoof recovered a half second before the stallion did. It was all the time he needed. Bolting from beneath the cart, he dove between the forelegs of the awestruck unicorn and ran.

"What the!?"

Grunting in surprise, the confused stallion spun on hoof and let loose with a wobbly telekinetic swing. Though ill aimed, Stout Hoof could still feel the unmistakable wake of the sword as it cut through the air at his back. His spent limbs already aching with fatigue, the colt took off down the bridge as fast as he could manage.

"Oye! Get back here!"

The heavy hoofsteps of the guard falling in behind him with surprising speed, Stout Hoof quickly realized he wouldn't be outrunning this particular unicorn. Setting his sights on another stilled wagon at the bridge's end—a hay cart with a dim lantern hanging loosely from a pole at its side—Stout Hoof swerved and made for the solitary source of cover. His hooves clacked loudly on the stone beneath him.

"Ungh!"

Leaping into the coarse pile of straw, Stout Hoof heard a grunt behind him as the guard took a second swing. This time he could feel a strong tug as half his tail was sheared off by the sharpened edge. However, with his attention focused on the floating blade, the pursuing guard neglected to slow his pace, thudding heavily against the back of the wagon.

Whumph!

With a groan, the wooden cart lurched forward. Wheels snapping the thin pegs that held it in place, it started forward at a steady clip, rolling down the low incline toward the bottom of the hill.

Struggling to right himself in the loose hay, it took Stout Hoof a few moments to lift his head over the lip of the wagon. Glancing back to the rapidly shrinking bridge, he could see the dazed unicorn guard scrambling to his feet as the cart began to pick up speed.

Allowing himself a sigh of relief, the colt turned to face the front of the cart when an unexpected scent caught his nostrils.

He stopped, eyebrow perking up in curiosity.

Smoke? Why was there smoke?

The colt's eyes went wide as a small flame erupted in the dry hay at his side.

Not just smoke. Fire.

Stout Hoof glanced up toward the pole at the front of the cart.

The hanging lantern—apparently—wasn't hanging anymore.

Scrambling to the edge of the hay pile for all he was worth, Stout Hoof didn’t leap so much as throw himself from the edge of the rapidly igniting pyre. Landing with a heavy thud on the hard packed earth, he rolled several times before coming to a stop, dizzily righting himself just in time to hear a loud shout rise up from the direction of the city wall beyond.

Vision swimming, he glanced farther down the hill, watching several guardsponies leap clear of the four-wheeled inferno as it careened wildly toward the metal gates.

CAAAARASSSSH!

A shower of flaming grass erupted into the air on impact, every flammable object in sight promptly bursting into flames.

A moment later, all was chaos.

The deafening sound of fireworks continuing to erupt in the background, Stout Hoof could just make out the shouts of the gate guards as they scrambled in all directions, crying out in various stages of surprise, pain and panic. Above them all, Stout Hoof could make out one particularly gruff, irritated voice, bellowing more loudly than the rest.

“FLIIIINT WORRRRK!”

The colt's ears shrunk against the sides of his head.

Backing cautiously into the tall grass behind him, he turned from the worn cart path, slipping as quietly as his hooves would allow into the mountain’s shadow.

***

By the time the sounds of commotion had died down in Stout Hoof's ears, the fire had become a small blotch in the distance behind him. Surveying the field as he made his way to the far end of the city wall, the colt was astonished by the scope of the castle grounds—he hadn't realized how big they were before. Behind the inner gates there was nearly enough room to house the entire city of Stableworth again, were the lower city to ever fall.

The colt shook his head.

Like that could ever happen, he thought to himself.

Every colt and filly knew Stableworth had held off every attack for the past two centuries. There was little doubt in anypony’s mind that it would stand at least two centuries more.

Looking back from the shrinking fire, Stout Hoof eyed up the last stretch of wall left before him. His face fell as he studied it more closely. Not a single chip or crevice offered the slightest hoofhold, the stonework was as solid and smooth as the castle behind it.

Dropping onto his flanks, Stout Hoof hung his head.

He needed to find a way back. It was only a matter of time until the sun came up and the guards found him. He couldn’t hide forever.

The colt glanced down at his tired body. His bare, brown coat stared back at him, dark streaks of dirt and ash visible even in the dim moonlight. Eventually, his eyes came to rest on the blank patches of fur on his flank.

I’m not even going to live long enough to see my special mark, am I?

The colt dropped to his stomach, holding his head in his hooves as he let out a frustrated sigh.

He should have listened to Steel Wing and gone straight to the courier's station. None of this would have happened if he had.

The colt blinked, a sudden glint of white appearing at the edge of his vision. Shoulders tensing in surprise, he lifted his gaze to the field ahead.

Against the backdrop of the mountain, Stout Hoof could just make out the profile of a small, pony-shaped figure making its way toward the wall, cloaked in black. Two white forelegs protruded from under the fabric of the otherwise shrouded silhouette.

Stout Hoof's ears perked up in alarm.

Another guard?

Hugging the ground, the colt watched cautiously as the figure passed not thirty hooves in front of him. A faint golden aura shimmered around its hooded head and the tall grass seemed to part before it—as if by magic.

The colt held his breath and remained silent. He hadn’t had much luck with unicorns, lately.

Reaching the wall, the specter cast a quick glance in either direction. A moment later, it knelt down at the base of the stone before it…and vanished.

Stout Hoof’s eyes widened.

Glancing around to make sure no other specters were following suit, the colt quietly made his way through the leg high grass to the place where the figure had disappeared.

He glanced around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

His eyes widened.

Had the figure used magic to go through the wall? Or was there some sort of secret passage here, hidden by some sort of spell?

Inspecting the span of stonework before him, Stout Hoof braced himself and lifted a hoof forward.

If the wall was enchanted, he didn't want to be caught off guard by whatever was beyond it.

Wincing, the colt leaned forward, his hoof gingerly meeting the smooth stone.

Solid.

Grunting in disappointment, Stout Hoof fell back onto his flank, prompting a small ring of dust to rise up from the ground beneath him. A look of frustration crossed his face.

“Dumb wall.”

Huffing loudly, he swiped a hoof at the tall grass at the wall’s base. To his surprise, it yielded to his touch, bending as if there was nothing behind it at all.

Raising an eyebrow, Stout Hoof scooted forward and pushed his hoof deeper into the brush. Where it should have met stone, it was instead greeted with the nothingness of empty space.

His expression immediately brightened.

A tunnel!

Brushing aside the grass, a roughly shaped hole—more of a crack in the stone really—appeared at the colt's hooves. Moonlight from the other side of the wall filtered in through the small opening.

Stout Hoof crouched forward, inspecting the small gap. It would be a tight fit, even for him, but he could probably manage.

Sparing one last glance toward the castle, Stout Hoof started forward, disappearing into the crevice as the figure had done. Unsure what he would find on the other side, he pressed on, making for the faint shimmer of beckoning moonlight.

***

Chapter 1
View Online

An Encounter With a Princess

Chapter 1

***

"Again!"

Stout Hoof’s ears pricked up instinctively as the harsh command echoed through the clearing like a thunderclap.

Lifting his gaze from the dark patch of earth beneath him, his eyes widened as he caught sight of the heavy wooden staff bearing down on his flank.

Without thinking, the colt dropped into a crouch and vaulted to one side. The barest hint of relief rushed through his form as the sharp whoosh of a misplaced swing registered in his ear.

Too close.

Shifting his weight to his hindlegs, Stout Hoof flicked his right hoof forward. With the smooth click of wooden slats sliding into place, his own combat staff—shorter in length but made of the same dense material as his adversary’s—shot out from its leg-sheath, locking parallel to his foreleg.

Springing forward, the young colt let loose with a low, sweeping blow. His opponent—an older black pegasus whose graying mane showed signs of better years behind him—parried gracefully.

The stallion's dusty grey robes were well-worn—blackened in some spots by forge fire—but, despite his age and attire, he moved with the swiftness of a pony many years his junior.

Clack! The sound of the blocked swing echoed through the clearing .

“Ahh, so you were paying attention then?”

The old stallion’s voice bounced as he spoke, his words tinged in a heavy Istallion accent.

“Good.”

Pulling his combat staff away from the block, the stallion shifted back into a defensive stance. The smaller earth pony followed suit, breathing heavily. He could hear his own tiny heart thundering in his chest.

The tapered ends of the pegasai’s graying moustache perked upwards in a provoking smile.

“Very good.”

He winked.

Without hesitation, Stout Hoof launched into another strike, this time swinging his armed hoof upwards toward the stallion’s jawline. The air whistled past his staff as he swung.

Clack! Thwack! Clock!

The two exchanged a series of quick blows, the colt’s opponent blocking his every swing.

Clack!

Their weapons locked a second time. Forehead damp with perspiration, the colt eyed the older stallion warily.

The stallion returned his gaze with a raised eyebrow. Slowly, the curious expression shifted into a knowing grin.

Before Stout Hoof could react, the pegasai drew back, shifting his weight onto his hind hooves and lifting his staff high into the air in one fluid motion.

The colt’s eyes widened in surprise. Rearing back, he braced himself for the inevitable blow.

It never came.

"Huh? Yipe!”

Without warning, the stallion’s back hoof darted out with practiced precision, eliciting a surprised yelp from the colt as his hindlegs were swept out from beneath him. The horizon blurred in his vision as he tumbled backwards, landing in the dirt with a dense thud.

He could almost hear his racing mind ordering at his muscles to move.

Get up. Get up. Get up!

Planting his hooves on the ground beside him, he tensed, preparing to spring upwards again—

—only to find the rounded point of the pegasai's combat staff hovering inches from his neck.

With slow, heavy breaths, Stout Hoof lifted his eyes.

The stern gaze of the older stallion met his own. Despite the years visible in his faded blue eyes, the pegasai’s rigid stance betrayed no signs of exertion. No signs of fatigue.

The colt took a deep breath. Then another.

Slowly, a smile broke across his muzzle.

He sighed and raised a hoof.

“Give.”

A similar grin broke across the face of the older stallion. Chuckling warmly, he lowered his weapon, nodding toward the colt.

“That was good Stout Hoof! Very good! Not much longer and it will be me looking up to you from the ground.”

Flicking his foreleg back, the stallion’s training staff slid back into its sheath with a soft click. He offered his free hoof to the fallen colt.

Lifting a hoof of his own, Stout Hoof gladly accepted the gesture, sparing a quick glance at their surroundings.

The morning was still young, the first rays of sunlight just breaching the treetops surrounding the open field. In the morning light, the colt’s own appearance stood in contrast to the darker coat of his mentor as it always did, his brown coat and chestnut mane still holding all the youthful vibrance of his twelve years.

He could hear his mentor chuckle again.

"It would seem Stablesworth has another up-and-coming swordstallion in it's midst."

The colt could feel a wide grin break over his muzzle as he steadied himself, glancing back up at his mentor with wide eyes.

“You really think so, Steel Wing?”

His eyes darted from his flank—which was bare—to his mentor’s, where the stallion's "special mark"—a thundercloud pierced by a silver sword—sat proudly.

A flash of hope flared up in the colt’s chest. He glance back at the stallion.

“You think I can be a swordstallion, someday, too?”

Meeting the wide green eyes of the young earth pony with his own, the older stallion chuckled once more and nodded.

“There’s nothing I’m more certain of figilo—”

He reached forward with a hoof, mussing the colt's dark mane.

“—nothing I'm more certain of at all.”

***

Stout Hoof could feel the midday sun on his back, his cloak pleasantly warm against his coat. The forest around him was green—vibrant—the smell of late spring in the air.

It had been a long winter. Too long, really.

Stout Hoof had spent the last few months tending to the forge, practicing outside when the weather was clear enough, but the cold snows that fell this far north made it difficult. The holdings that the kingdom laid claim to were large, but much of it was untamed wilderness. Many of the lesser traveled roads were nearly impassible in winter without wings or magic, including the graveled path that led to his and Steel Wing's abode.

Since the forest had begun to thaw, he and Steel Wing had only made one other trip this year. To one of the nearby villages.

Shaking his head, the colt glanced down at his own figure.

His combat rod—as always—remained strapped to the inside of his foreleg, concealed for the time being beneath the baggy sleeves of his plain, beige cloak. Resting in the small satchel at his side, he carried with him the small parcel that Steel Wing had given him after their morning practice had come to an end.

The colt recalled their exchange with a proud grin.

"Stout Hoof—" the black pegasus had said, waving his hoof toward the far end of the practice field "—the Baron is stopping by the forge again this afternoon to inspect his order."

Reaching into the satchel at his side, the stallion had procured a small bundle of papers, tapping them with a hoof.

"While I'm busy speaking with him, I'll need you to take these to the city courier for me. They're for next month's delivery."

Stout Hoof had felt his eyes widen.

“You mean—”

Steel Wing had nodded, a small grin crossing his face.

“Yes figilo, you’ll be going on your own. Do you think you can handle it?”

Whumph.

The colt had fallen onto his haunches, a giddy squee escaping his lips.

The older stallion had chuckled, tousling the colt's mane before continuing in a more fatherly tone.

“Now remember, Stout Hoof, this is a special privilege, traveling to the city by yourself.”

He'd draped a cloak over Stout Hoof's shoulders, regarding him with a more serious gaze.

“Just make sure to keep your cloak on at all times and try not to linger. Like I’ve told you, it’s important that you don’t—“

The rest of his mentor's words, however, had fallen upon deaf ears.

Though the forge was not five miles from Stableworth itself, between his training and blacksmithing instruction, Stout Hoof seldom had the chance to visit it, even outside of the winter months. On the few trips he and Steel Wing made there a season, the pegasus had always kept him at his side. The colt had never been there on his own before.

Having accepted the package from his mentor, he'd sped off down the road to the capital, leaving a tiny, colt-shaped plume of smoke in his wake.

Even now, his hooves felt light beneath him, his tiny chest beaming with pride.

On my own. Just like a big colt.

Taking inventory of his surroundings, Stout Hoof trained his eyes on the thinning trees ahead. It looked like he had reached the end of the forest.

Lengthening his strides, the colt quickened his pace. As he emerged into the open air at the forest's edge, he couldn’t help but stop and stare.

Built at the base of a towering mountain, the outer walls of Stableworth loomed before him, stretching toward the limits of his vision in either direction. Fortified bastions projected outwards from the gray stone at regular intervals—each adorned with banners, sigils, and posts upon posts of pegasai guardsponies clad in golden armor. Rows of ballistae and trebuchets loomed from behind the parapets, casting menacing shadows across the field below.

Dizzy with excitement, the colt closed his eyes.

No longer obscured by trees, the low thrumming noise of the city broke over him like a wave. The cacophony of pony drawn wagons, commoners talking, and market ponies bargaining with travelers sounded nothing at all like the still quiet of the forge.

He loved it.

Pulling his thoughts together, the colt cracked his eyelids back open.

Across the ocean of buildings and streets beyond the wall, he could make out the sight of the castle, settled just beyond a second set of high walls at the far end of the city.

Even from this distance, its size was considerable. The brilliant white cathedral stared over the city like a monarch atop their throne, an intricate network of buttresses, spires, and open verandas standing out proudly against the darker backdrop of the mountain.

Stout Hoof's eyes sparkled as he took in the sight. He wished he could see it up close.

He sighed a moment later, waving away the thought. Only knights and nobles were allowed entrance into the castle, after all.

Shaking his head, he continued forward, making his way toward the wide, stone archway that led into the city. The two pegasai guards at the entrance stood firm and resolute, but paid no mind as the small brown colt scurried inside.

Immediately, Stout Hoof found himself caught up in a sea of ponies milling about the cobblestone streets. He'd forgotten how busy the market district could get. Letting out a small yelp as another wave of ponies surged past, he dodged through hooves and carts alike, eventually making it to the edge of the street where traffic was slower.

He wiped his brow with a hoof.

Whew. That had been close.

Shaking his head, the colt set off at a steady clip. Memories of past trips at Steel Wing’s side guided his hooves as he made his way to the courier’s station.

The colt grinned.

This wasn't so hard, was it?

He glanced up at the streets around him, eyes wide with excitement. At the edges of the walkways, street vendors—most of them unicorns dressed in flashy, exotic robes—held their wares up for all to see.

Apples, cutlery, clay pots, wheels—there was even a stand devoted to selling nothing but quills and an odd-looking piece of furniture he heard one pony refer to as a “sofa.”

The colt paused, shaking his head.

As much fun as it was seeing the sights, he had to make sure he stayed focused on the task at hoof. Steel Wing had trusted him enough to let him make the trip on his own, after all.

A moment later, however, Stout Hoof felt the ponies around him begin to slow. A crowd had begun to gather down the street ahead, just outside the edge of the market district.

The colt raised an eyebrow.

Rearing up on his hind legs as best he could, he squinted, trying to peer over the sea of ponies before him.

It was difficult to make out, but through the ocean of equine forms, Stout Hoof could catch glimpses of a crowd gathered at the edge of one of the streets farther ahead—stamping their hooves and cheering. Ponies were waving banners in the air, some unicorn and pegasai parents raising foals up onto their shoulders for a better view of...whatever it was...that had caught their attention further up the road.

Stout Hoof shot a hesitant glance to the parcel tucked under his cloak. Then back at the street ahead.

He bit his lip, trying to fight his rising curiosity.

"...just make sure to keep your cloak on at all times and try not to linger...."

The colt sighed, dropping back down onto his hooves as Steel Wing’s words came back to him. He shook his head, nodding firmly to himself.

He had a job to do. As a future swordstallion, it was important he didn't let his mentor down.

Making a point to look away from the gathering crowd, Stout Hoof oriented himself back in the direction of the courier’s station and lifted a hoof forward.

Without warning, another round of cheers erupted behind him. This one accompanied by the call of trumpets in the background.

Spinning on hoof, the colt made a beeline toward the noise, a wide grin on his face. After a few more minutes of weaving his way through the growing forest of limbs and hooves, he finally managed to poke his head out from underneath a stalled apple cart at the street's edge.

Taking in the scene before him, the young earth pony quickly caught sight of the source of the crowd’s sudden interest.

His eyes widened.

Drawn by two lines of white coated, blue-maned unicorn guards in shining golden armor, he could see a shining, silver chariot—a royal procession making its way down the city street.

The massive, open carriage advanced slowly down the center of the cobblestone road, throngs of ponies gathered at every side street that emptied into it. Brilliant rays of sunlight glinted off the carriage's sides, flashing in all directions.

On either side of it, etched in solid gold, was the crest that Stout Hoof had known from the time he could stand.

The seal of Stablesworth. A crescent moon nestled into the side of a fiery, golden sun.

The crowds in the street parted before the procession like water, scurrying out of the way with awe and wonder.

At the helm of the open carriage, Stout Hoof could make out a crimson-maned unicorn stallion, his frame large and imposing. Thin, golden filaments had been woven in to his deep red beard and a heavy jewel encrusted crown—the same hue as his golden coat—enwreathed his horn. Thick, gold-plated armor hung heavily across his shoulders and flanks, but the stallion moved as if it was made of cloth.

Though Stout Hoof had only seen the unicorn’s likeness on banners and coins before, his likeness was unmistakable.

King Apollinaris himself.

A second chorus of cheers erupted from the crowd as an elegant unicorn mare—no doubt Queen Korrina herself—rose up at the king's side. An equally magnificent, silver crown encircled her own horn but, in place of her husband’s armor, she wore a simple chain and pendant around her neck. She flashed an elegant, regal smile as she raised a hoof of her own, her midnight blue coat sitting in stark contrast to the fiery palette of the king.

Though she was originally from outside the kingdom, she'd quickly become a popular figure to the public as well. Stableworth's trade with Cantelria at its borders had risen dramatically since her wedding to Apollinaris had taken place.

Stout Hoof blinked, another fresh round of cheers breaking him from his stupor.

Wincing as he realized he was getting caught up in the moment, his eyes wandered down to his cloak. The outline of the parcel in his satchel stared back at him, still waiting to be delivered.

The colt could feel a small pang of guilt in his chest. Sighing, he turned, glancing back to take one last look at the royal procession—

—and stopped dead in his tracks.

Time seemed to slow as the colt's eyes found themselves drawn to the back of the royal carriage.

Seated behind the King and Queen sat two young unicorn mares, no older than Stout Hoof himself.

The first mare—the younger of the two—had the same starry features as the Queen. A delicate, silver tiara graced her light blue mane just below her horn, almost luminescent against her twilight-colored coat. Despite the cheers that echoed from the crowd as she raised a hoof, the young unicorn’s stance was somewhat less assured than her mother’s.

Wrapped in a long, starry cloak and sitting as far back from the carriage’s edge as she could manage, it looked as if being on display was the last thing the small unicorn wanted.

The colt's eyes widened.

But the second mare...

Stout Hoof blinked, the sounds of the crowd slowly fading in his ears. He stood—transfixed—as the carriage drew closer, his hooves fixed firmly in place beneath him.

Though partially shrouded in the cloak that hung from her shoulders—the same, golden color as the king's armor—what Stout Hoof could see of the second mare's white coat flashed like fire beneath the midday sun.

Her slight frame sat poised with all the grace and elegance of the the king and queen before her, her flowing mane—a stunning shade of reddish-pink—drawn into a neat ponytail held together by two, thin, golden clasps. A small tiara sat upon her head with a single magenta-colored jewel at its center—the same color as her eyes.

Unlike the younger mare beside her, she seemed entirely at ease with the roar of the crowd, gracefully turning her head side to side as she met their cheers with a confident smile.

Almost in a daze, Stout Hoof watched as she turned in his direction.

The roar of the crowd faded completely. Time seemed to stop altogether.

The colt's heart skipped a beat.

He stared ahead, mesmerised, the mare's shimmering, sparkling eyes meeting his for a brief moment. Despite the fact he couldn't move his hooves, he suddenly felt weightless, wispy, as if he'd just grown wings of his own and taken off into the sky.

To his amazement, the mare seemed to acknowledge the moment as well—her eyelids lifting in an expression of silent surprise as her lips parted ever so slightly.

Then, in an instant, she was gone. Several members of the crowd had broken ranks, shifting themselves to the front of the apple cart, obscuring Stout Hoof's view of the procession.

Too stunned to move, the colt sat silently in shock, his eyes staring straight ahead.

He blinked. Blinked again. Shook his head.

In the midst of the daze still washing over him, the colt hadn't noticed that the clasp on his cloak had come undone. He was only dimly aware of the fact it had slid off his shoulders along with his satchel, exposing his back to the cool, shaded air beneath the apple cart.

The colt continued to look on, though, holding the same, slack jawed expression.

A gruff voice suddenly broke the colt from his trance.

“Hey you. Foal.”

Hm?

Stout Hoof's ear twitched, swiveling his head.

Pushing through the crowded street in his direction, Stout Hoof could see three pegasai guards in full armor—their coats dyed regulation blue and white. A nervous chill ran down his spine as he shrunk back against one of the wheels of the apple cart, averting his eyes. Maybe they were talking to somepony else.

The call of trumpets managed to catch the colt's attention once more. Glancing back toward the procession, he could just make out the carriage being swallowed up by the crowd. He could feel a faint twinge of disappointment, sadness, as it rolled out of sight.

The feeling was cut short, however, as the gruff voice called out in his direction a second time.

“Earth pony. I’m talking to you.”

Turning to face the advancing pegasai, Stout Hoof could feel his stomach sink. The guard's eyes were undoubtedly locked on his.

Planting their hooves squarely in front the cart, each guard stood a full body taller than the colt—the identical, silver spaulders they wore only adding to their bulk.

Meeting their gazes, Stout Hoof could see the three guards narrow their eyes in his direction. Around them, the crowd had parted somewhat, the ponies watching the procession making an effort to ignore the scene taking place behind them.

The colt could feel his legs tense beneath him. He tried to reply, stumbling nervously over his words.

"W-what...w-what do you want?"

“What do I want?”

The center Pegasus—the band’s leader—raised an eyebrow, eyes widening in mock surprise. Holding a hoof to his chest he looked to the other two guards, feigning offense.

"I'm hurt."

He shifted his gaze back to Stout Hoof, smirking.

"You know, little foal, that doesn’t sound like the proper way to address a royal guard.”

Without warning, the white stallion leaned forward, his eyes narrowing into slits beneath his helmet.

“Especially when the one talking is a worthless little dirt pony.”

Stout Hoof's eyes widened.

Dirt pony? What did the guard mean?

Stout Hoof felt his face pale as several things clicked into place in his mind at once.

Looking around—as if for the first time—the colt realized that of all the ponies who had been watching the procession take place, there wasn't another earth pony to be seen.

In fact, he realized, he hadn't seen any other earth ponies since entering Stableworth. Aside from those that lived in the village near the forge or passed by on the road, he wasn't sure he'd ever seen any of them near the city before.

The colt's mind flashed back to a memory of his last trip to the city with Steel Wing.

“Steel Wing? Why do I have to stay in the market? I want to see the castle.”

“Just stay at my side, Stout Hoof, some ponies around here might not like to see you running around by yourself outside of the market.”

“But why?”

“Some ponies around here just aren’t very friendly to those who are…different. Just stay at my side for now, figilo, alright?”

“...alright…”

Stout Hoof’s shoulders tensed.

Glancing down at his fallen cloak, he suddenly realized why Steel Wing had always made him wear it when they were in the city.

Looking the three guards up and down, the colt’s eyes were drawn to the images tattooed on their flanks.

A mace. A bloodied axe. A spear. The special marks of the three pegasai each showed the same weapon that they had hanging from their sides.

Stout Hoof felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

They wouldn't hurt him just because he was an earth pony...would they?

“Are you deaf, foal?”

Mace Hide, the one who had spoken before, spat at the frozen colt, sudden anger seeping into his voice. His mocking tone had disappeared, replaced with one more aggressive. Demanding.

“I said pay your respects. Now.”

The other two guards, Spear Side and Axe Flank, grunted in agreement, trotting up to Mace Hide's side.

Stout Hoof took an unsteady step back, flinching as is flank stopped against the wheel of the apple cart behind him. Glancing around nervously, he opened his mouth to speak, but his voice had left him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Mace Hide took another step forward, his eyes narrowing further.

“That’s it, dirtborn.”

He growled, bending forward to reach a hoof toward the cornered colt.

“You’re coming with—“

CRACK!

The pegasai guard suddenly let out a loud whinny and stumbled backwards, blood spurting out between his hooves from his crushed snout. He collided with the other two guards, the three stallions tumbling backwards into an awkward heap.

Half in shock, Stout Hoof looked down to see his wooden combat rod fully extended from his right foreleg.

Instinct had taken over. He had struck before his mind had even registered the movement as his own.

“You disrespectful little—”

The colt's eyes widened as Mace Hide cursed, his voice markedly more nasal than it had been a moment ago. Pushing himself off the other two guards beside him, he turned his neck toward his side, searching for the handle of his weapon with his mouth.

The lead weights holding Stout Hoof in place dissolved in a rush of adrenaline.

Retracting his combat rod with a soft click, the colt backpedaled beneath the apple cart, tumbling out from beneath it just as the furious pegasus let loose with a powerful swing.

CAARUNCH!

Stout Hoof could hear the snap of wooden panels behind him, his hooves scrabbling against the cobblestone below. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that both Spear Side and Axe Flank had freed themselves from the pile as well.

Fear coursing through the colt's veins, the colt broke off into a dead sprint, tripping and tumbling through the wall of hooves and limbs in his path. He could hear more shouts behind him as ponies were pushed to either side, his pursuers paying little heed to the comfort of the crowd as they began to give chase.

Stout Hoof's hooves pounded heavily against the street beneath him. Breaking free from the crowd, he took off headlong toward the first side street he could see, his eyes frantically searching for a place to hide.

A shout of surprise rose from the crowd behind him. Glancing back, the colt could see the three pegasai take to the air, the crowd beneath shielding their eyes as their guards' powerful wings scattered up dust and debris from the street below. Their heads quickly turning in his direction, they began to fly straight for him, their armor glinting in the sunlight.

The colt let out another yelp, snapping his head back forward as the whistle of armored wings filled the air.

Ducking off into the side street, he could feel a wall of air blow past his flanks as the three guards whipped by in an initial pass.

Crunch! Shunk! Clang!

Stout Hoof could feel the hairs on his neck stand up as their weapons missed him by inches, clattering heavily against the pavement at his side.

Watching the three arc upward, he could see their narrowed gazes meet his once more, their wings turning as they prepared to swing down for a second pass.

The colt redoubled his pace, his eyes widening.

He had to find a place to hide! Somewhere! Anywhere!

Whipping his head to the side, he blinked twice as his eyes settled on their target.

Just off the intersection ahead, the colt could see a small, dark hole staring out from the base of a building, a metal grate resting against the wall at its side. The immediate area had been gated off by rope, the entrance blocked by a small sign with red lettering.

Although Stout Hoof couldn't make out the words, the opportunity the narrow tunnel beyond them presented was clear.

Escape.

Veering right, the colt zeroed in on the narrow, foal-sized opening. Already he could hear the whistle of air behind him as the aerial guardponies dove in for their second sweep.

Thirty hooves. Twenty hooves.

The colt's heart thundered in his chest.

Ten hooves. Five.

The whistle of air behind him dissolved into a screech. He could hear the grunts of the three stallions in the air above him as they reared their heads back to swing.

Now!

Propelling himself forward with all of the energy he could muster from his burning legs, Stout Hoof dove forward beneath the sign.

His shoulders and back scraping heavily against the rough stone, he tumbled headlong into darkness—the yawning void swallowing him whole.

***