The Nation of Snow and Ice: Pilgrimage

Torch

Chapter I

“Ser Torch,” Pyre Glow said, continuing to walk through the garden. She levitated three flowers close beside her, taking in their sweet aroma and occasionally turning to see if Torch was still following her. He wished she did not like to be outside as much as she did. Torch knew he could have been inside the manor and could be drinking his favorite mead. But Lord Glow ordered Torch to defend his daughter with his life. And no matter what he had to put up with, he was determined to do it.  “Does the cold bother you?”

“No,” Torch answered as he followed the lady. She looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. “Yes. It does.”

“Why don’t knights like to wear any fur clothing underneath their armor?” She asked with genuine curiosity. "Does it obstruct during combat?"

"This knight hadn't expected the land to be so cold," Ser Torch admitted. He didn’t wear much in the way of armor. Mostly a small layer of chainmail, with leather topped over it and iron plates on his hooves and chest. He despised the cold as much as any other pony from the Westlands. Torch had been throughout Arcadia, but never once had he ever thought he would be coming to Eastgate. Ironically, the city was more north than east. Torch figured Northgate would not have the same ring as Eastgate. The other thing that bothered Torch about the city was the lack of defense at the main gates. The walls may have been too high for a pony to use a grappling hook on it, but somebody could easily just kill the guards at the main gate and get inside. Torch would not be surprised if an army came in and sacked the city.

Pyre used her magic and grabbed a winter rose; having the same appearance as a normal rose, but having a old, frozen, white color rather than a dark red shade normal roses had. She inhaled and took in the flower's scent, enjoying every second of it. Torch looked at all the other plants growing in the garden. They were all so alien to him. Each plant had a label on the stone surrounding it. One particular piece of the garden held his attention more than the others.

Torch had never seen so many lavenders growing in one spot  and he never thought fire tongues would be able to survive so far north before. Seeing them made Torch want to return home west back in House Glow controlled Rockshade. But he knew it would be a few weeks or months, if there were any further complications. With Lord and Lady Glow trying to bring their house fame and glory, they needed to build alliances with other houses. Torch thought Lord Glow would never go through with the plan, but to everyone's surprise, he went through with it. And after an eternity of travelling from city to city, the House's journey led them here. Eastgate. Of course it was going to be more complicated than just making allies with families all over Arcadia.

"I always admired fire tongues myself," Pyre Glow said to Torch. "I didn't know you were a fan of flowers, Ser Torch. A knight who is surrounded and relishes the idea of death loving the nature around him. I never thought I’d be so surprised."

"I'm a fan of a lot of things," Torch spoke, his gravelly voice trailing off, still thinking about home. "Fire tongues remind me of home."

"We should add them to the garden in Rockshade. We could section off part of the garden for you. Fire tongues everywhere." Pyre chuckled at that, giggling like a filly. Torch just rolled his eyes.

“Maybe I should make a garden of the bodies full of those who tried to kill us the past few weeks we’ve been traveling. There’ll be bodies of all kinds of ponies. Enough for us to expand the gardens about four times its size now. I’m sure you’ll like it.” Torch smirked, before adding his formal, “Milady.”

Pyre stopped her giggling and scrunched her face in a mix of disgust and frustration. “Why must you ruin my fun?”

“If that is your idea of fun, then you and I haven’t been spending enough time together.”

“I believe  we’ve been spending too much time together.” Pyre said. A gust of wind blew through the courtyard, Pyre’s elegant dress flowing with the breeze and her orange mane following with it. She raised a hoof and blocked the snow starting to pelt at her face. “And perhaps we’ve spent too much time outside. Let’s go back inside.”

“As you wish,” Torch led Pyre to the nearest door, which led to the manor’s main hall. The warm wall of air hit both ponies, a welcome feeling to both of them. The cold northern air completely canceled out upon meeting the warm interior. When Ser Torch closed the door he walked beside the shivering mare. He offered his hoof to walk her over to the stone fireplace, but she just dismissed it.

"How do ponies of the north stand such hostile and chilling winds?" Pyre complained. She looked down at her dress; the finest silks in all of Arcadia now wet with snow. Ser Torch shook his head at the sight of her gown, his personal favorite. Pyre, however, just made her way over to the fireplace, Torch following close behind her.

The main hall was among the most comfortable to look at and also be inside, at least to Ser Torch. Ahead of both ponies was a fireplace, the stones glowing a hot shade of yellow as the flames burned the wood. The stonework of the fireplace was smooth and well rounded, unlike the manor home in Rockshade, which was rough and jagged. Eerily enough to Torch, the House Glow crest of a burning serpent coiled around a blade attempting to devour its own tail was etched into the wooden slab hanging above the fire. It was as if the northerners thought House Glow would be staying here in this cesspool of a city for its entire existence.

The sleek and smooth wooden walls was another welcome sight, though most of his day used to consist of roaming the stone castle in Rockshade with Pyre leading him through the halls. Paintings and mosaics hung from the walls, all of which were of the same exact thing; a snow covered environment, though some had minor alterations. Some had ponies wandering, others with stray animals and a few with nothing at all. The dark wood made Torch think the architects used the darkness of the night itself to create such a perfect shade for the whole manor. The darkness in the walls and the darkness in the non-illuminated sections of the estate meant that thieves could come in—or worse; an assassin—and be undetected by the family guards, which put Pyre’s life in danger.

Torch looked up slightly above the fireplace and at the two windows beside it. The were purely aesthetic, the and couldn’t be opened, unless someone just decided to break it open, but a thief wouldn’t risk giving himself away unless he knew he could get inside and leave in an instant. Assuming there were no guards patrolling the area when he did break in. House Glow guards have had a reputation for using extensive force to catch and punish those who committed crimes against the family. Ser Torch was almost sterling proof of that. Almost. Unlike the knight Ser Spear Tip, Torch would never kill a pony for stealing a loaf of bread from Lady Glow. The most Torch would do is publicly flog the thief at the Lady’s command.

Pyre sat in front of the burning wood, closing her eyes and taking in the burning scent of the wood. A smile crept on her face, her shining smile glistening from the light of the flames and her white coat shining from the wet, melting snow that dripped from her mane and onto her face and back. She didn’t seem to mind that so much, but Torch knew she’d get a scolding from Lady Glow about how ‘unlady like’ she acted all the time. And Torch smiled at the fact he knew Pyre would just ignore her mother’s scolding. “I do so love the smell of things being burnt.”

“As do I, milady,” Torch remarked.

“There is a calming sense in the crackling of the flames and the aroma it can give off,” She commented. Her face contorted and her eyes ripped open. “By the King of Fire, what in the Twin Hells is that smell?”

Pyre raised a hoof to her nose and looked back at the door she and Torch entered from. It was wide open and much to Torch’s dismay, Ser Harven was walking inside, light leather armor surrounding his bulky frame and an alien object in his claw. The griffon ripped a chunk of whatever it was in his grasp, juices flowing from it and a disturbing crunch coming from each chew. His dusty feathers were covered with white, a sign the blizzard outside beginning to worsen. Torch looked at Harven with disgust, though Pyre nudged him and his expression shifted and was exchanged with a mask of something that resembled a neutral expression.

“Ah!” Harven opened his mouth, food still inside and some juices dripping out. “Sher Torsh!”

“Harven,” Torch said simply, annoyance apparent in his voice. “What do you want.”

He swallowed the filth, the bitter and repulsive scent filling the room. “How’s guarding the daughter doing?”

“How’s eating northerner filth doing?” Torch growled, though he masked his insult with a joking tone. “Shouldn’t you be on guard duty?”

“Ooh!” Harven laughed, obviously falling for Torch’s ruse. “You wound me Ser Torch! And no, I am off of guard duty.”

“Figures,” Torch muttered. Pyre heard and slapped him on the hoof.

“Milady,” Harven bowed quickly, losing his balance and almost knocking into a table full of fruits and other northern delicacies. “My apologies.”

Pyre giggled. “It’s quite alright, there’s no need to be formal with me.”

“Well, I’ve made a fool of myself already and you haven’t demanded my tongue to be ripped out yet, so I can see your kindness far surpasses your mother’s.”

“Careful,” Torch warned. “Lady Glow could be anywhere in these halls. We don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“I appreciate the concern Ser Torch,” Harven took one more bite of his foul food. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m retiring to the guard’s quarters. Eating raw Manticore leg is tiring business.”

And with that he walked off and left Pyre and Torch’s gaze.

Pyre looked up at her guardian. “Just because he’s a griffon doesn’t mean he’ll try to harm me.”

“You don’t know what he’s done to lose my trust,” Torch said.

“He never chose to be a griffon Ser-”

“I don’t hate him for being a griffon,” Torch said. A statement that was almost entirely untrue. In reality, Torch was more a pony person. Hippogriffs were better than just griffons in the way that they had at least a little bit of pony in their anatomy. Griffons were also known for being untrustworthy, save for ones who were all about honor and duty, though those were rare. “I hate him for being such a pretentious cunt.”

“You have such a way with words, Ser Torch.” Pyre shook her head.

Night had fallen over the city like a blanket over a child. The Manor was quiet, save for the still-burning fire in the main hall. Guards patrolled every room and made sure every door was locked. The gardens were protected by hounds and ponies, walking through with their horns shining for light sources instead of torches. Nighttime creatures, foreign and alien to the westerners, filled the night with their songs.

Inside the manor, on the second floor, Torch found himself outside of Pyre’s door, as was his duties. He stood guard, spear in hoof, taking up most of the narrow hallway. Though, he planned to sleep in the room beside the door with Pyre on the bed across from him, Torch found sleep a troublesome thing to find. His dreams were plagued with terrors and he hated facing them each and every night. But the dreams weren’t his only problems. He didn’t like this place. Eastgate was a filthy city and filthy cities had their fair share of thieves and hired swords. Any of them could be trying to find Pyre.

And Torch would rather die fighting than asleep beside a door.

But so far the hours passed by slowly and painfully silent. The torches down the hall crackling and the distant burning of the fireplace was all Torch had to accompany him during the silent night. His thoughts were the only other real company with him, mostly thoughts about Pyre and her safety. Torch jumped at every sudden noise, especially when one of the guards came up the stairs and down the hallway from their patrol route. He always reassured them that he was fine with watching the halls by himself, but they always came coming back to check on him.

Torch turned to open the door to Pyre’s room and watched her body rising and lowering with each breath. She was still safe, a lantern illuminating the room on the desk beside the window. Torch smiled and slowly closed the door, his heart feeling...different in his chest. A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Then something crashed in the hallway and Torch tucked his spear under his wing, using it to grip the spear with his hoof. A pony stood, a dark cloak shadowing any features from Torch. It stood silently, eyes wide and completely motionless.

Torch was about to speak and almost threw his spear at the cloaked figure, but a glow emanated from the shadowy pony and what happened afterwards was too fast for Torch to even react.

The knight hit the ground, being tossed away from the door, a loud thud sounding through the halls as he hit the ground. Much to his surprise, the shadowed pony never came to Torch to finish him off. But the end never came for Torch.

“No!” An all too familiar scream sounded through the halls. In an instant Lord Glow and Lady Glow emerged down the hall, and Torch found himself bolting faster than he ever expected himself to go, spear held in his hooves and wings helping him rush into Pyre’s room.

The shadow pony’s blade was raised over Pyre’s throat, tears of terror streaming down her face and screams of pain and pleas for mercy escaping her lips.

But the blade never cut her throat. Torch was on top of the cloaked assassin in an instant, his spear plunged deep into the side, but it was still moving and kicking, trying to get away from Torch. The guard looked back at Pyre, who was being taken off the bed and was huddled in a corner next to Lady Glow, making sure she was still okay. Guards began to flood the room, each one with a weapon at the ready.

“Ser Torch!” One of the guards yelled.

The assassin’s horn began to glow again, but Torch took quick note of it, ripping the spear from the pony’s side and using the blunt end to slam it against where he thought the assassin’s horn was. A loud crack and a burst of magic and blood confirmed Torch’s blow to the horn. He ripped the cloth off the pony’s head; a beige unicorn mare with a mane as black as the cloak she wore breathing restlessly underneath. She tried to clutch the spot where her horn had been snapped off from Torch’s extreme force, but Torch slammed her hoof down each time she tried to move. Tears welled from her shut eyes as she tried to stop the bleeding from her head.

Torch grabbed the mare and placed her before Lord Glow, who was standing beside his wife and daughter. The mare sobbed and just like Pyre did moments ago, pleaded for mercy.

“Lord Glow,” Torch spoke between heavy breaths. “What shall I do with the filth who has tried to murder your daughter?”

A silence spread through the room, not even the crackling fires from the burning torches inside the hallway were able to fill the room with noise. Lord Glow’s fiery mane and eyes seemed to burn with such anger and malice that Torch thought it would be him who was punished for almost getting his daughter killed.

“Toss the bitch in the dungeon,” Lord Glow demanded. His voice was shaky with rage, but controlled. It was until a guard said there was no dungeon Lord Glow exploded.

“Then chain her up somewhere! Leave her out in the cold if you must! I want her alive and I want to be able to get every single bit of information out of her before I have Ser Torch execute her! Guards seize her!”

The guards marched in, and grabbed the mare with magic.

“Please sir!” The mare pleaded. “Please, I’ll tell you anything you want I swear it! Please don’t execute me!”

The mare’s screams filled the halls of the manor, Pyre’s cries filling the room and Torch’s heartbeats pounding in his ears. Adrenaline still coursed through his blood even when there was no threat.

“Ser Torch,” Lord Glow said. “Stand guard with Captain Grindstone outside the room. Seal the halls. Nobody comes in."