The Eastern Campaigns

Chapters

The Past
The Present
The Future

The Past

Armored hooves pounded down the cobbled street, sending Prench citizens scattering out of the galloping pegasus’ path. A cloak the color of sand flapped in the wind, revealing a suit of strategically spiked armor in the legionnaire style beneath. An electric yellow mane and tail, and a coat of ash-grey, matted with sweat and the grime of many leagues, and electric yellow eyes were fixated on the distant goal ahead.

The pegasus wove his way around the stalls of the marketplace, dodging around flower vases and the artistic fountains that dotted the path to the docks, not caring about the chaos he was leaving in his wake. More than a few citizens could not help but watch him go by, no doubt wondering what a captain of Roam’s Legions was doing so far from home, and what could bring him here in such a wrath.

Elsewhere, hooves in gilded comforters rested on the deck of a royal vessel; a grand ship-of-the-line, made for battle as much as the comfort of its passenger. Said passenger had arrived in a frenzy, babbling that he was being chased by a demon of some kind, and had ordered the captain to set emergency speed back to the distant homeland across the sea. Perplexed, the captain and crew had obeyed, the ship’s unicorns calling upon a strong wind and manipulating the tide and currents to speed the ship up immensely.

Barreling through the streets, the pegasus was getting ever closer to the docks, a wild grin on his face. He had been chasing after his mark for almost a year now, and was finally about to get what he sought after: vengeance, a blood debt to be repaid for cowardice and betrayal. Just a little longer now, just a little longer.

Now that they were just passing the final marker of the harbor, the passenger was finally relaxing, feeling safe for the first time in what felt like a year. “Captain,” he said to the poor unicorn who had to keep close to him for the duration of the trip, “when we have left Prench waters, I’d prefer it if you summoned a royal airship direct from Canterlot to pick me up. You will not mention what happened earlier to anyone, not even Admiral Blue Steel. Is that understood?”

The captain gritted his teeth at the passenger’s grating voice, but answered, “Yes, your highness. I’ll see that your wishes are all tended to.”

The passenger smiled. “Excellent. Now, if you could bring me a bottle of your best wine? From your personal stores, of course.” The captain gritted his teeth again. This was going to be a long trip, and dealing with the Prince was going to test his patience more than any storm ever had.

Back on the docks, the pegasus had finally reached the area he knew where his target would be running to. But as he pushed his way past some sailors, and reached the end of the pier, he saw something missing. Something that should have been there no matter how much of a lead his target had on him.

There was no ship, just empty water, and when he ran to the edge to get a better view, he saw the terrible truth. Vanishing just over the horizon were the masts of an Equestrian Royal Navy ship-of-the-line, distinguishable by its white sails with the sun and moon printed on them, and the banner that flew on it. The personal banner of his quarry; a gilded compass rose.

For a good five minutes the pegasus just watched, dumbfounded, as the ship vanished over the edge of the world. And when it was gone from all view and reach, he tilted back his head and unleashed a scream of such rage, such anguish, that every pony and griffon in the area scattered out of fear. And on that distant vessel, a certain royal ever so faintly heard it, and smiled in contentment.

The temple of Sleipnir was, while smaller than its sister in Mareis, still a beautiful old thing. Carved marble depicting the beauties of nature, tall slender columns of the corinthian order, stained glass windows with the image of Sleipnir himself, and old and well loved gardens tended to by the clerics. Inside a few candles burned, but most of the light came from the windows. It was silent, with mostly only the clerics and the odd worshiper walking the polished tiles. At the far end of the main chamber was an altar, over which loomed a statue of the Great Horse himself.

The silence was abruptly ended when the clank of armor and the clatter of metal-shod hooves began. In from the afternoon light walked the pegasus, head hanging low and tears threatening to fall to the floor. Without a word he walked over to one of the pews closest to the altar but far to the side, and dropped into it, his armor making quite a racket in the process. Slowly, he lowered his cloak’s hood and removed his helmet, letting his mane flop free and set the cover aside. He didn’t notice that, gradually, the clerics were edging away from him.

All but one felt brave enough to approach the warrior. A younger member of their order swallowed in what was nothing short of fear as his older peer sat down next to the dangerous looking pegasus. The stallion was aged, wrinkled and slightly worn in places. His coat was a dulled gold, and his mane a lighter blue shade. He removed his own mock crown - gold with an onyx rim set all the way around it - and placed it next to the pegasus’ helmet.

“What do you seek here, child?” he asked without fear in Itallion. “Why do you enter this sanctum of the Great Horse in such a weary state?” The pegasus looked up, saw who spoke to him, and gave a respectful nod, eyes filled with tears waiting to fall out.

“Father, I come seeking forgiveness. I have failed in my task to bring a traitor, a coward, to justice. Even now he sails away over the ocean beyond my reach.” His voice and accent marked him as Itallion without question to the elderly cleric. “Now my friends, my allies… those I shed blood beside for over twenty years are dead and will see no vengeance.” He rubbed at his eyes, muttering, “I wonder if they’ll ever forgive me?”

Gently, warily, the priest laid a wrinkled hoof over the younger stallion’s own, smiling gently as he spoke. “No hatred is eternal, child. Some day, we must all learn to let go of the fires we cherish.”

“Yes, I suppose we must. No, I know we must. I saw many I knew cut down in that campaign. But me, her… the coward left us both in our hour of need. Now, only he and I remain from that conflict. The Eastern Campaigns.” Shaking his head, the warrior turned to face the cleric properly eye-to-eye. “Look at me, Father. Do these look like the eyes of someone who can let go easily? Because of him I lost the one friend who had managed to survive as long as I did. Can I be forgiven for holding such a hatred in me? By her, by Sleipnir… Father? Is something wrong?”

The old stallion tore his wide-eyed gaze from the pegasus’ own. “No,” he answered. “Everything is just fine.” He looked back, oddly more hesitant this time. “Yes, you can be forgiven. Sleipnir holds nothing against one such as yourself. Do not despair that you are unable to find the source of your hatred, but instead… look back, and see that you are still a good pony on the inside.” He placed a golden hoof on the warrior’s shoulder. “You held onto those friendships for a very long time, and this hatred is but a small part of that time. Be at peace with the knowledge that those twenty years of friendship will never turn their backs upon you, and that your friends are sailing towards Distant Shores as we speak.”

The old stallion’s words were the final blow to the flood gates, and the soldier finally burst into tears, sobbing quietly and rocking side to side a little. He still had concern for the cleric’s strange distress as well, but nonetheless he nodded once he had had enough. “Again Father, you are right. I don’t know if I can ever let go of the hatred, but I think I can let it drift to the far edge of my being with the memories of old to fill in the gap. Thank you for your words, Father. They are comforting to be sure. I will remember them, but I need more than words before I’ll be able to move on. ”

The pegasus stood, retrieving his helmet and replacing it on his head. “Now it’s time for me to face the consequences of my failure. This will be my last chance to introduce myself like this, so I’ll cherish it: My name is Black Thunder, Captain of the Imperial Legions of Roam, Eastern Legion. Last of the heroes of the Eastern Campaigns. Thank you for your words, Father…?”

“Golden Brand,” the old cleric replied. “Father Golden Brand.”

“Father Golden Brand. I will try to remember that. Again, thank you for your words. Long life and peace to you.” With that, Black Thunder turned once more and exited the temple, leaving in his wake a trail of terrified clerics and worshippers. Father Golden Brand watched the warrior leave, felt the unnatural sense of fear begin to recede, and started towards his chambers. He had a letter to write.

If there was a place worthy of being called a “greasy spoon”, it was the Greasy Spoon tavern, a two story affair with the stereotypical tavern layout. With an added...special touch. In an attempt to copy the cooking style of deep south Equestria, the owners fried nearly everything, even the flowers. The whole place stank of vegetable oil, and you had to get used to it if you chose to eat there. If you were with the Red Diamond Mercenary Guild, however, you had no choice.

One such pony was Black Thunder, ex Captain of a legion of Roamian forces, now a mere grunt for the guild. And all in the record time of one and a half months at that. Nursing a drink he was sure had been fried somehow, he looked around the dimly lit common room every now and then.

The job board was empty, and he and every other member of the guild was hoping that any moment now someone would come in and post a job request. Until then you just had to sit in the company of your fellow fighters and get over the cloying smell. Well, except the pegasus. He sat alone, though not by choice. Everyone in the room was making an effort to avoid him, though from fear or unintended intimidation on his part he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t even look anyone but the guild-master in the eye while talking to them, and even the aforementioned boss couldn’t do it for more than a minute.

So there he sat, waiting, and thinking back on how he had fallen so far. It had been so fast in a way. A week of flying top speed to the nearest outpost and the moment he had reported in, he was informed that he was to be discharged dishonorably. The reason? Cowardice and failure in the line of duty....

The Present

Chapter 1: The Present

The ash-grey pegasus sat back in his isolated spot in the Greasy Spoon, an unreadable expression on his face as he again ran through the events that had put him there.

He had been bound in thick, heavy chains to weigh down his wings, and a muzzle to silence his tongue. They had locked him in a cage of solid oak and iron bars, and put around it an escort of no less than fifteen soldiers. Really, it was almost flattering in a way. Weeks had passed, and the soldiers, who had been extremely on edge most of the way, had finally relaxed as the capital came into view, which allowed them all a chance to take it in properly in the light of the full moon.

Some called the city of Roam a sister to far off Canterlot, and while the former was certainly one of the jewels of the Old World, she was no paradise like Canterlot was said to be. Roam had also been built upon a lonely mountain; “raised by magic”, the stories said. But she had been made for the purpose of protecting all within her walls, while the beauty was just an afterthought of sorts.

The capital was layered with one level atop another like a wedding cake. And unlike her sister city, she dug into the patron mountain instead of just hanging off the side from near the peak like fair Canterlot did. Indeed, Roam’s districts and walls wrapped all the way around the mountain, to make full use of the space available. One section was made of stone and decorated to the teeth with catapults, ballistae, and an assortment of other counter siege weapons.

The prison cart first passed through a series of slums, populated by beggars asking for food and coin, and then a little village of wood and thatch roof huts, populated by peasants who made a living farming the lands around the walls and offering various small services to travelers on their way into the city, squatting as close to the walls’ shadow as the defenders would allow. Then they came to the city’s outermost wall, a sight that almost seemed like something out of the legends of old.

High enough that they seemed to touch the sky, polished and ground to perfect smoothness, each stone enchanted and warded by master spellcasters that hid all behind them, and broken at strategic points by guard towers, the outer walls wrapped around the entire mountain like an impenetrable barrier. And that was only the beginning.

The gates were of solid steel, and only just wide enough for the prison cart to get through. The light of day was slowly replaced with illumination provided by bright alchemical orbs stuck into the walls as the cart entered the tunnel, though despite the warm light it was all the pegasus could do not to shiver at the feeling of the eyes watching through the murder holes.

A prickling at his skin could almost be thought of as enchanted crossbow bolts, the dryness of the air the sign of oncoming Demon’s Tears; an ironically named mixture of alchemical fire oil and a nameless, flesh destroying acid which left no mark on the stone that could be poured at a moment’s notice.

A minute and a half later they emerged into the outermost part of the city, which was a massive, contained area of land used for farms that supplied the city with the food it used to endure sieges from months to years on end. It was also where the Imperial Legions trained their new recruits before sending them on a tour of the territories to learn from the four Legions stationed there. The land had been made flat and verdant for all plants by druids with their arts, and tended by long-standing families of farmers who held the respect of the entire city.

It was also where the Rain Towers came into sight, which dotted both the farm lands and the tiered city. The Rain Towers were a marvel of magic; tall, ivory white things that gathered moisture from the atmosphere and condensed it, sending it down its length to the ground below to provide clean water to wherever it was needed. In the case of the farmlands, this was irrigation ditches to provide for the plants. They were also said to capture lighting, and send it to the master tower at the mountain peak to be used for some purpose that would defend the city.

The cart and its escort then came and passed through the lower wall of the mountain. Similar to its outermost brother in height and thickness, the wall was armed with long-range weapons made and enchanted specifically for the purpose of destroying both the enemy and the precious farmlands so any foe that got past the outer wall could never use them.

Behind it was the Root District, populated by more peasants who worked the mines within and beneath the mountain and tended to small, terraced plots of lands carved into the living rock. The scenery here was mainly hovels of wood and stone populated by folk of all the races, all working to make a living. There was also the aqueduct and supply shute networks that supplied water from the Rain Towers and harvested coal and ore to the upper levels.

After traveling through the next wall, which was lined with towers from where the battle mages could hurl their destructive spells upon all invaders, they came into the Branch District, home of the crafts folk and traders. Smiths and carpenters worked the raw materials given to them to provide services to both the civilians and the military. A subsection of wall guarded the brick and mortar residences of the people who lived on this tier, who worked for those that resided on the district up above. The district as a whole was slightly more dug into the mountain than the one below to allow for more gardens, parks, and the public services given to the residents such as schools, temples to Sleipnir and Mother Gaia, and small shops.

Finally, they came upon the Shining Walls, the oldest and storied of all the walls that guarded the city. They had been made of some unknown material that allowed them to absorb and release the light of the sun, stars, and moon, giving them their name. Behind it was the Canopy District, the richest part of the city where the old families lived. The architecture was of an older era; columns of varied styles, marble buildings with grand stairways, manors that had been carved into the mountain. There were few Rain Towers here, as this was the smallest district.

This was where the banks, counting houses, trading companies, and other economic nerve centers called home. It was also home to the Silver Tower, where the mages who served and protected the city were stationed, along with the entrances to the storage houses for the grain and siege food supplies. In contrast to the lower levels, there were fewer gardens here, and the ones that were there were for purely decorative purposes - Roam’s sign of wealth above all else.

Finally, after passing through one final wall, they came to the peak of the mountain, and the Hall of Winds that stood atop it; the imperial palace. There was a heavy autumnal motif to the building - Support pillars in the shape of trees, friezes that depicted leaves blowing in a stormy sky, and a lone mosaic of gold and bronze that showed the great tree Yggdrasil in autumn, ‘neath an oncoming storm.

After being removed from the cart, the escort formed around him, and Black Thunder was able to get one last look at the city and the outlying lands before he was frog marched inside and the doors shut behind them. The drawn-out, booming echo of the doors being closed served as a proclamation of doom, if ever there was one.

The halls were well lit with more alchemical lanterns in the shape of trees, and all was quiet save for the occasional servant cleaning the floors and walls with brooms and brushes that got to every spot, and mops that needed no water. It made the pegasus wonder if this was deliberate, a way to get him worried about his fate more than ever. If that was the case, they were succeeding. Even in a place that seemed so peaceful, he could not stem the growing sense of fear.

Finally, the journey ended for real. The Senate Chambers, where the democratically elected representatives of the civilians laid down the laws and dispensed justice on cases too big for the regular courts. A circular chamber of ominous black stone, pillars of white marble with rippling black onyx, and at the heart an oak leaf shaped table on a raised dais.

At the tips were seated the Senate members themselves; elderly ponies and griffons from the oldest and most influential families. Yet it was the one sitting at the stem within the shadows that drew Black Thunder’s attention. Upon a throne carved to depict two interlocked trees with leaves falling to the floor sat an alicorn: Roam’s Emperor.

“Captain Black Thunder,” spoke one of the Senate members closest to the pegasus. “You have been brought here to stand trial on charges of war cowardice and failure in the line of duty. Conduct unbecoming of an officer as decorated as you. I ask you, why did you not report in after the Campaigns ended?”

The gag was removed, and the pegasus spoke, “Lord Senator, I had been in pursuit of a truer traitor. In a moment when he was needed the most he fled, resulting in the loss of one of the last survivors of the star fall.”

“And this pony, the one you supposedly were chasing after, who was it?”

“Prince Blueblood of Equestria,” Black Thunder growled, barely able to keep himself from spitting the name out like a curse. “When I needed his help the most, he quit the field, and I lost a friend who had fought by my side for most of the Campaigns. After dealing with the threat he had run from, I began to hunt him down. Unfortunately I underestimated his ability to hide, for it took me the better part of a year to track him down to Prance. By the time I caught up with him, though… he had already boarded an Equestrian warship, and had sailed beyond my reach. I returned to the nearest outpost then, and thus I am now here.”

The Senate was silent. Each member stared at the pegasus, some with astonishment, others with fear. Slowly, a chatter started that lasted a short while, before one of them spoke. “The Prince of Equestria?” asked the mare. “Running from battle? Running from the battle, no less?”

“Yes, Lady Senator. There were three of us left at that point. He, myself, and… and one Lieutenant Jade Fountain from Englade. Lieutenant Fountain had been severely wounded, and a hostile dragon somehow survived the event that had wiped out the rest of the armies. I needed the Prince to help me get her to safety, but he had run away screaming at the first sight of it. I did my best but… but I-”

“How did the Lieutenant gain those wounds? Was it from the dragon, or from the meteor that obliterated the armies?” asked the sole Desert Dog at the table. “And how did she die? Did the dragon kill her, or was it her wounds that claimed her life?”

“... It was her wounds. I don’t know how, I must have had the blessing of lord Sleipnir Himself with me at the time, but I killed that damned monster by myself. By the time I’d finished it off, it was too late. Her wounds were too far gone and… and I…” The pegasus sniffed, brushing away the growing tears on his manacles, falling to his hind legs as he did. “She was able to get out a few last words, words I wish to keep to myself, before she passed to Distant Shores. After that, rage consumed me, and I began my pursuit of the Prince.”

He lifted his manacled arms in placation. “I apologize deeply for not reporting in, but with all the death I’d seen, and an ally leaving when I needed them the most, I wasn’t able to think straight. Even after all the time I couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d run away to save himself, and didn’t even consider a wounded comrade.”

The Senate listened to the story with varied reactions. Some were sympathetic, the most emotional of them having to hold back their own rage or despair. Others thought the warrior was speaking lies, unwilling to believe that a prince of a nation like Equestria would do such a crime at so dire a time. And the rest were running the story through their minds, looking for something to use to their advantage.

Finally, an elderly griffon with the mother of all baritone voices spoke up. “There are eyewitness accounts of your pursuit, Captain? Those who can prove you were indeed chasing a deserter, and thus performing a just task?” The pegasus looked up, hope welling within him.

“Yes, lord senator. The chase went through several highly populated areas, and ended at a major port in Prance. I can also get the word of a priest of Sleipnir to support my case, as I confided in him prior to turning myself in. He will speak the truth if asked.”

The griffon considered what was said, and leaned close to the emperor to have a brief, hushed conversation. When the alicorn nodded the senator spoke thusly, “If that is the case, then you are in the clear, Captain. It is my opinion and that of his majesty that you were doing a just task in the name of your fallen comrades, and the Imperial Legions as a whole.

“Though you may have failed to capture him, and though the prince is now under the aegis of the Princess Celestia and thusly out of our reach, you are at no fault at all. Are there any objections from the rest of you?” he asked his comrades. They each held a whispered conversation with one another before, one by one, shaking their heads. “In that case, guards, remove his manacles and binds. It would seem we are in the presence of a war hero.”

A war hero. Once upon a time hearing those words used to describe him would have made the pegasus swell with pride. But that part of him had been beaten out by sixteen years of the worst that war had to offer. Now it was all so hollow, so pointless. He barely felt it as the bindings were removed, as the griffon spoke of how Englade would be displeased with Equestria that their Prince had fled for his life and left one of their soldiers to die, and only registered the bringing up of promotion.

With the Eastern Legion all but destroyed, it would need to be remade. As the only survivor Black Thunder would be a good fit for taking charge until a proper General could be found and promoted from the existing higher-ranking commanders. They spoke of honor and glory, how proud his family would be of him, until he finally, wearily, interrupted him.

“Stop. Just… stop.”

The senator raised an eyefeather, greatly unaccustomed to being interrupted, but too in control to show any greater reaction. “Is there a problem, Captain? Is this not all good news to you?”

“Your majesty, my lords and ladies, forgive me. Once upon a time I would have gladly accepted such a reward. I would have been the proudest soldier in the Legions, I bet. But now? No. I fought in the war from the very start, threw away over sixteen years of my life for the cause. I’ve seen every friend I made over the years die through the course of battles that went nowhere, innocent civilians lose all they had just because the foe didn’t want us to gain anything, and all for what?

Had we gotten into the Ottomare Empire more fully we would have begun either killing everyone in sight or sending them to be reeducated, destroying their culture utterly by toppling their cities, and building new ones amongst their ashes after assimilating the useful aspects of the old. Something I now cannot bring myself to do. I can’t believe such a thing is even a norm for us.”

“If you will not accept the promotion,” the griffon began, “then what will you do then?”

“Resign my commission.”

One of the senators, an elderly unicorn mare who’d just been enjoying a fresh cup of tea, spat the steaming contents on her equally elderly griffon counterpart, who simply accepted a towel proffered by the emperor to wipe himself down. Then he shouted at the top of his lungs, “What?!”

“I’m done,” the pegasus responded simply, already tugging at the straps for his cuirass. “All my friends, all the people I became close with over the course of the war, a second family, are all gone. As I said, I’ve given away over sixteen years of my life fighting for the empire, and now I’m just tired.” With a clatter, the armor piece fell to the ground as its former wearer started on the strategically spiked cuisses.

“I don’t know what I’ll do with my life now. I think I’ll become a sell sword, or try to give the bravi a decent name again. It feels too soon for me to hang up my sword. Build up enough money to buy a home or plot of land to build a casa nor over.” Upon seeing the confused looks of some of the senators he translated, “‘cloud house’ in Andrealian.” The armor pieces fell away now, revealing the warrior’s mark of purpose as an anvil with a gilded sword and hammer on either side, crossing over each other diagonally.

“There’s no need for that though!” a senator spouted desperately. “Just four or five more years and you’re entitled to a plot of land and title for your services! Please, Captain, the empire needs you! We need you!” Everyone in the room face-hooved, clawed, and pawed at that statement, all save the pegasus who was now in the process of removing his grieves.

“That, lord senator, is exactly the reason why I’m hooving in my resignation. While the conflict had the chance of removing a threat to the empire, ultimately it was just so you all could get more land, and expand your personal empires of trade and banking. All at the cost of an entire people and culture older even than ours. Is the slaughter and subjugation of Zebrica not enough for you? If you truly wanted the Ottomare Empire destroyed you would have sent ‘The Butcher of the Southern Wastes’, General Taurus Bolder Break to deal with them.”

The grieves fell, and Black Thunder moved to the rerebraces. “But no, you sent Scorpio Chilli Step, one of the best of the Four Cardinal Generals, to his death. Him and all the rest of us. All for the sake of satiating your avarice. I can never live up to his standards, and neither can any of you.” The rerebraces had barely hit the ground before the pegasus went on to the vambraces. As he wasn’t looking at them he hadn’t noticed that everyone in the room was starting to edge away from him as best they could, with the senators visibly leaning away from him and the guards edging towards the door.

Only the emperor was still, only he was silent, watching with an expression veiled in shadow. Finally, the pegasus came to the helmet, which in contrast to the rest of his armor he removed with reverence, even kissing the brow before gently laying it down. “If there is nothing else, my lords and ladies, I will depart now. I won’t be keeping my severance pay for myself, I’ll send it to the Sleipnirian church I visited. I’ve enough money stored away to make a start at living on my own.” He turned then to face the emperor as best he could, given the alicorn was leaning back in the shadows of the Sylvan Throne.

“Fare thee well, your imperial grace. It was my honor to serve you and the empire in the Legions, one I’m grateful you let me have. Poate ne vom întâlni din nou o zi, într-o zi clar sub cerul de toamnă.” Black Thunder gave one final, deep bow to the emperor before pulling up the hood of his sand colored cloak. As he turned, about to leave, it seemed as if he tried to blink away a tear before leaving the chamber. At least, to the emperor it was such. Everyone else could only focus on how it seemed that the warrior’s eyes glowed a predatory yellow from within the hood’s shade.

Author's Note

First of all, I'd like to apologize to anyone who was looking forward to reading this sooner. I have no excuses for why this chapter is coming out now. Secondly, I must apologize to anyone who is fluent in Romanian. I had to use Google Translate, and we all know how much one can trust an online translator. If anyone can give me a genuine correction for the lines, I'd be much appreciative.

The Future

Chapter 2: The Future

Black Thunder took a sip of the drink, grimaced, then took another one anyway as the final memories of what happened rushed through: He had departed the Hall of Winds unchallenged and made his way to the nearest bank. There he had withdrawn a small amount of money from his account, and went thence to the nearest barracks.

After formally going through the process of resignation, and asking that the severance pay be sent to the Sleipnir temple where he’d met Golden Brand, he finally departed the capital. He ended up spending the night in a nearby forest as there were no clouds to sleep on or enough moisture to make a decent sized one, and he had no wish to spend money at an inn.

He had been sleeping on the strongest looking branch of a tree he could find, and praying that his species’ tendency to live in the sky and dance with the clouds would give him some protection from the cold. At some point during the night he thought he felt something warm being placed over him, but he drifted back to sleep. In the morning he found a single, storm cloud blue feather with a hawthorn leaf charm in autumnal colors strung to it by a chain of some milky white metal. The former he reverently stowed in a pouch within his cloak, and the charm he hung about his neck.

From there he had wandered his way aimlessly down the ancient roads until he came upon the no-name town the Red Diamond guild operated out of, and signed up promptly. Pay was by commission (after the guild expenses skimmed off a hefty cut), the co-workers were mostly unsavory, and the quarters were worse than anything he’d had to put up with back in the military. There wasn’t even a forge he could access to make better equipment for himself and the rest of the guild. But at least the room and board was free, and the guild did get a decent enough amount of work despite rumors about it.

At least that’s how it had been for a few weeks, but work had dried up as of late, and now there was nothing to do but sit around and hope for a job. So naturally when the door opened and a peach and blonde unicorn stallion walked in, one who was dressed as only a wealthy merchant could be, everyone sprang to their hooves instantly, trying to look their best.

The merchant looked about, noticing the casual demeanor of everyone in the room, mixing with the desperate looks they were all giving him. He frowned for a moment before raising a hoof and asking, “This is the home of the Red Diamond Guild, correct?”

The barkeep nodded, saying nothing.

“Good. I am the leader of a trade caravan currently headed to Philemos. As I’m sure you all know, being mercenaries and what not, that the road there has a bad reputation for being a common hunting ground of bandits. I and my caravan are in need of protection.”

There was a scramble as the mercenaries rushed to display their various weapons and armor, trying to show they were more than capable of defending traders against bandits. All but Black Thunder, who just chuckled quietly and managed a sip of his drink. A simple guarding job didn’t usually pay too much, and the merchant looked like he’d go for quantity over quality.

The stallion trotted over to the closest member and, without a word, looked him dead in the eyes. The young colt leaned back slightly in surprise, disconcerted by the sudden attention. The merchant turned away and did the same with another member, this time muttering as he moved on. Black Thunder quirked an eyebrow but kept quiet, thinking it was none of his business what the merchant went for, but silently praising him for reviewing his choices.

A door upstairs opened, and an obese griffon poked his head out of the office. “Oy,” he shouted in a mockery of the Itallion tongue, “what the ‘ells’ goin’ on down there? Why’s it gone quiet? You lot better not be slakin’… oh.” The guildmaster waddled out of his office, rolls of fat jiggling with every step. “A client? Good afternoon sir, I be Red Diamond, master of ‘dis ‘ere guild.” The stairs creaked ominously as he made his ponderous way down them and went to shake the merchant’s hoof with his own greasy talon.

“‘Ow can me ‘an me boys be of service to a gentlestallion such as yourself?”

The merchant was speechless. He looked down at his peach hoof wrapped in the meaty grip of the talon, and then at the rest of the griffon’s appearance. His ears had turned backwards to try and avoid hearing the voice any longer. His face still peeled back in shock, he asked, “Are you cockney?”

The griffon blinked, pausing for a moment. “Yeh?” he replied, almost sounding unsure of his answer. “What about it?”

“Ahem...” The merchant stole back his hoof. “It’s nothing, I was just surprised to find someone of your… variety in a place like Roam.” He turned away with a small twirl. “Anyway… I am here for some protection for my trade caravan. I’ve already taken a good look at everyone here…” Everyone in the room suddenly felt a little more awkward. “and have found none up to the task. Do you have anyone with a fair amount of experience?”

“Well,” said Red Diamond as he started sweating nervously, “they’re all pretty talented, I think.”

“And I appreciate that, but I mean someone with a fair amount of experience. Somepony - or griffon - who knows how to defend from multiple skilled combatants at once, who can react quickly during a sudden twist of events. Do you not have someone like that...?”

Red Diamond was looking worried now. His eyes darted about the hopeful faces filling the room. “W-... well…”

The merchant strolled away to a particular side of the room. “I mean, I could always just take a random mercenary off your talons, if you would prefer?” He looked at the pegasus sitting alone at his table, staring into his fried drink. A few moments passed. “This one will do… for instance.”

Said pegasus looked up from his drink in surprise, and then slowly unfolded himself from the seat, causing everyone but the bartender, who just snorted and went on cleaning a mug, and the merchant himself to take a few steps back. “Me, sir?” Black Thunder asked with a head tilt. “Why pick me out of so many others?”

“Why indeed?” the merchant replied, his amber eyes still transfixed on the pegasus’ own. They looked violent. He turned back to Red Diamond. “At any rate, this one here is my choice.” he brought out a bag of gold bits and plopped it in the griffon’s talon. He then patted his side, beckoning Black Thunder to follow him, which the pegasus did after gathering up his meagre equipment from the table. “A pleasure doing business with you!” he exclaimed as he made for the door.

“W-wait a second!” Red Diamond cried. “A-are you sure about this? About that guy?”

“I’m always sure of my choices,” the merchant replied, giving the griffon one last look before he and Black Thunder exited the tavern, closing the door behind them.

Red Diamond slowly looked down at the sack he had been given. It felt weighty, and sure enough as he opened it, it was full of golden bits. His eyes went wide at the sight. “How much is one damned pony worth?”

Black Thunder glanced back at The Greasy Spoon as its front door closed with a creaking thud, wishing to himself with a shallow hope that he would never have to see the disgusting excuse for a tavern again. The wealthy merchant looked as though he felt the same way, giving a small kick as he set off away from it.

While The Greasy Spoon was indeed worthy of such ire from the two, the rest of the town wasn’t much better - it consisted mainly of small, old wooden homes and buildings that might have once been charming, but now looked nary a few steps away from falling down. The place was well on its way to becoming a jumbled up slum of broken walls and makeshift rooftops. And, rather fittingly, the most expensive thing to be seen was at its inhabitants’ hooves and claws; the Imperial-maintained cobble path running down its lonely main street.

“A dirty little place, this,” said the merchant, looking around at the old, worn buildings. “Not a modicum of self-worth or expression to be seen.”

His winged companion just shrugged, replying, “It’s just a little wayside place on the road to be sure, but the ponies and griffons here are good folk. The odd traveler needing a few hours rest and a resupply can get it here before continuing on to the crossroads.”

Black Thunder pointed with a wing to one of the assorted rooming houses that made up most of the town; a cheap place that was doing its best to look welcoming past its deteriorating facade, and with the other wing a meagre shop that sold the bare essentials for long travel, as required by Imperial mandate.

“Gelfan may be small, but it has some measure of pride. It’s the only way to keep our spirits up between being a source of ‘road taxes’ for the odd wandering soldier and target of a bandit attack.”

“Hmm, true, true. Perhaps it does have one or two redeeming qualities to it.” The unicorn ducked to the ground all of a sudden, his eyes locking onto one of the small stones that made up the road. “This road is one of them. Such lovely stones they chose for it, I really can’t get enough of cobblestone roads!” He bent back up and caught the pegasus giving him an odd look. “How about you, stranger?”

“What about me, sir?”

The merchant glanced between his new friend and the road a couple of times. Again, he ducked down, though with a slightly less manic expression on his face this time. He tapped a hoof against one of the round stones. “I like this road. So many stones, all different shapes and sizes and all of them slightly different colours. Individuals, if one were to look at it from a certain angle.” He rose. “I find that animate individuals are the same- ah, that is, actual people. Not rocks. Although even that is up for debate in some circles.”

Black Thunder muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Unicorni,” rolling his eyes heavenward briefly. “If you say so sir,” he responded in Itallion again.

The unicorn stopped and looked back at his chosen warrior, who flinched as if expecting a reproach. “What I’m trying to get around to asking you is… what is your name, stranger?”

“Thunder, Black Thunder,” the pegasus responded warily. “Just another sell-sword of little consequence.”

The merchant smiled for a moment. “‘Black Thunder’,” he repeated, as if playing with the words in his mouth. “What an interesting name.”

The pegasus quirked an eyebrow again. “Pardon? Why so?”

“Well, it’s an interesting name, is all. ‘Black’ means ‘deep’ while ‘Thunder’ commonly refers to chaos and a rapid lifestyle. And if I remember correctly, the two together mean ‘Swift Death’... a Transylvanian combination, I believe. Am I correct?” asked the merchant, puffing out his chest with child-like pride and an eager look on his face.

“Well,” Black Thunder began, shifting his cloak unconsciously, “essentially, yes. My father is of an old family from Andreal, the Whitemanes I think. He did tell me something to that effect once, so I suppose you are correct.”

“Haha, marvelous! I am somewhat enthusiastic when it comes to names, call it a hobby if you will. Yours is quite a name, and that alone coupled with something like ‘Whitemane’? It sounds to me like we’ll be getting along grandly!” The merchant suddenly clocked himself on the forehead. “Oh, all this talk about names and people and yet I haven’t even told you my own! Dandy Sight is my name.”

Black Thunder’s eye twitched at that name, though he had no idea why. “An honor sir. Again, thank you for hiring me, the Red Diamond guild needs good patronage.”

Dandy nodded. “As I noticed. Not a single one of those so-called mercenaries had that… look in their eyes. They’d never seen battle, or known pain…” His eyes slowly settled on Thunder’s own. “Unlike you, my friend, though I will leave your past out of this if need be. You are only here for a single to-and-from mission, after all.”

“Hm, to be fair,” Black Thunder responded, “they’ve all seen some form of violence. Be it in the form of a bar fight or the occasional duel, or even some bandit raids. It’s just that our guild master tends to be… how do I put this politely… a skimmer and a cheat.”

Dandy Sight nodded in agreement. “And one can only wonder how he managed to get an accent like cockney into a language like Itallion.”

Black Thunder found himself doing a double-take at the words that had just fallen out of Dandy’s mouth. They quickly drifted from his mind, however, as something told him to ignore them for his own good.

“We’re just some nigh-nameless backwater guild that takes what we can, in both jobs and members,” Black Thunder continued. “Hence the number of greenhorns. Those of us actually ‘lucky’ to get onto a bandit fighting job almost always end up dead, and Red Diamond keeps the whole profit.”

Sight shook his head, scowling. “Shameful. Odd, too, I never noticed such a motivation in his eyes. Then again, Griffons have always been a bit more difficult for me to figure out…”

Something came to Thunder’s mind. “You’re clearly a wealthy merchant, Mr. Sight. Am I the only one to be guarding you?” he asked. “I imagine you have a sizable stash of money and merchandise in your caravan, but on my own I’m not enough to defend it from an equally sizable horde of bandits. I’m not that good, no matter what you think of me. Why didn’t you hire more members?”

“Indeed. Certainly a fair question. Fear not, my associates and I are all somewhat capable,” Dandy replied as the pair reached the edge of Gelfan, passing through the wall of sharpened tree trunks that served to defend the town. “As for why I only picked you…” He shrugged. “I felt that you were the best choice for this journey. As you mentioned, the rest are greenhorns and I have no need of meat shields.”

The two left Gelfan and Dandy Sight’s favourite road turned into a dirt path almost immediately. Flat plains of grass stretched on as far as the eye could see, save for a few mountains in the distance and forests to the west. Before those, thankfully, stood Dandy Sight’s caravan.

It was a fancy thing, made of strong-looking wood lined with gold, with large, metal wheels of griffon design. The caravan was made up of three connected carriages, at the front of which sat a pair of aurochs, resting near the harnesses and playing chess. Several ponies of all kinds and the odd griffon walked around the camp inspecting crates and doing other odd jobs. Black Thunder took all of this in and nodded in appreciation - a healthy sized private caravan by all rights.

Dandy Sight patted Black Thunder on the shoulder before trotting ahead. “Come along, I’d like you to meet my merry band of associates.”

Dandy pointed to a griffon busy loading crates of merchandise onto the middle of the caravan. He looked to be well-built, even for his kind, with a pallid grey coat of fur and golden feathers. “Ostlo Marble. A very perceptive Griffon I happened across in Mexicolt. He was the first member of my crew, and he’s understandably loyal to a tee.”

“Mexicolt,” Black Thunder said as he quirked an eyebrow. “That’s a long way from here, very long.”

“Indeed it is. Not the furthest my family has travelled, mind you.”

Dandy then pointed to the pair of unicorn mares sitting at the front of the train, the reigns of the two aurochs resting on their respective laps. They were both reddish-brown of coat with long, dark-grey manes. “Turban Right and Turban Left, two sisters I picked up on a trip to Izraiule. Relatable and positive, very devout followers of Sleipnir, mind you. Don’t bring up religion unless you have a couple of hours to spare. One for each of them, of course.”

Black Thunder again nodded appreciatively. The folk of Izraiule were among the toughest of the tough in the Old World, having been fighting off hostile neighbors for centuries. The fact they were Sleipnirians didn’t hurt matters either, as some of Izraiule’s greatest heroes had bore the Great Horse’s mark.

As Dandy went through the rest of his crew, the total coming to eight, plus him and Black Thunder, the pegasus noticed an odd pony walking towards them from town. Quickly, he moved into the pony’s path and dropped into an odd relaxed crouch, his left wing wrapped about his blade’s hilt under his cloak. “Stay where you are and identify yourself,” he called out.

The pony was a unicorn with a dark, forest-green coat and a mane of brown, mixed in with a lighter shade of green. The clothes he wore were what made him odd; a brown, wide-brimmed hat, similar to a cowcolt, and a trenchcoat of the same colour going down to the tops of his hooves. The stallion stared daggers at Black Thunder with blue eyes, occasionally glancing to the caravan and its owner.

“I said identify yourself, unless you can’t speak!”

The unicorn saw the look on Dandy Sight’s face and let out a chuckle through the blue bandana covering his mouth. “Replaced me already, Dandy?” he asked. Again the pegasus’ eye twitched.

“Haha, you can stand down now, Black Thunder,” said Dandy, lounging back against the side of the front car. “This is my other ace, so to speak. He’s been with me for almost a week now.”

“Silent Woods.” The cowcolt bowed, coming to a stop before the pegasus.

Slowly, Thunder relaxed his stance and nodded in return. “Black Thunder. Sorry about the challenge, but I hadn’t been told about you, and you look rather out of place. Sound it too from your accent. Where are you from?”

“Englade,” Silent Woods replied. “I’m a Bounty Hunter, currently taking a few days off to protect this silly fool.” He motioned to Dandy, who had vanished into the caravan.

The merchant reappeared again and tossed a coin to him. “Have a gold piece for not abandoning me to die yesterday!”

“He gives his money away like candy,” Silent continued, pocketing the bit with a smile all the same. Thunder had to chuckle at that, shaking his head.

“If he’s like that, I feel sorry I’m just doing a one time job with him,” he commented as he sat himself on a nearby crate. “Sleipnir knows I could do with a decent pay, I need to buy a house, or at least a forge. This guild-issue armor is little more than glorified tin.” He rapped a hoof against his cuirass to demonstrate, producing a hollow clanking sound. “Cheap crap. I’ll be lucky if it stops a mundane arrow, let alone a spell or sword.”

Silent Woods glanced at the armor, if it could even be called such, and nodded. “I’m guessing that you’re the mercenary Dandy went to the Red Diamond guild for, am I right?” he asked.

“The same,” the pegasus replied with a nod. “A real diamond in the rough, or so Mr. Sight seems to think.” He gave a shrug. “Really, any of them would have done. At any rate…” Something clicked in his mind. “Hang on a moment. You speak my tongue beautifully for an outlander, so I know it can’t have been a mistake. Did I hear you say he came specifically for me?”

The unicorn smirked in response. “In a way, yes. He has… a way with sussing your kind out. Maybe you’ll see why during the trip, maybe not.”

The grey pegasus turned to look at his employer with a frown, his wing unconsciously straying towards the hilt of his gladius again. “Yes… yes, I suppose we will.” And perhaps, Black Thunder thought, I’ll learn how you found out about me.

Author's Note

Bit of a mistake, posted the wrong chapter. Here's the right one.