Akadios walked calmly through the palace of Canterlot, towering over the various ponies that rushed passed him towards the exits of the mighty edifice rather than towards its center as he did. How different it was from the mighty acropolis of his homeland. Once, long ago; when Akadios was younger and far more brazen, he would have blamed the ponies of Equestria for what was befalling them. Too long at peace, too long without conflict; made them soft!
He grinned; oh how the old bull would love to sit in a room and bash some sense into his younger self.
The thought quickly faded with his grin in tow as he passed by an Earth pony cradling a crying child. No beings deserved what was happening. Lord Tirek was on a rampage, Discord once thought to be reformed was assisting him. He of course; knew of Tirek, All Minotaur’s knew the tale of Scorpan and his malevolent brother; it was Scorpan on his returning journey to whence who had united the seven cities that made up the Minoan Republic; laying down the foundations of the senate and praetor he now served. He knew the tales; the terror they could cause the young, which is why, when he smelled the terror on these ponies. He could not blame them.
He pressed his armored bulk against a nearby wall, wincing at the movement, but allowing a trio of unicorns to evacuate what appeared to be a cart full of precious art; their faces twisted with worry and stress, an alien expression on so many of Equestira’s natives. He waited for them to pass, remaining unacknowledged; before continuing to the throne room.
Scorpan had never told the Minoan people what had befallen his brother, only that he was an example of how power can corrupt; And how as a powerful race, the Minotaur’s had to be forever vigilant against the abuse of power. Akadios stopped before the large double doors leading to the throne room; gazing upon himself in its mirrored polish. Powerful indeed; Akadios was not as tall as he once hand been, age had seen him stoop at a greater angle each year; his Lorica Segmentata sat loose upon his broad shoulders and fit a tad to snugly around his mid-section for his liking, If he survived, he would have to stop spending so much time with Celestia in her favorite bakery, but he was still a sight to be behold.
His once obsidian coat was now grey, only a few black streaks remaining around a wrinkled face held in a neutral, resolute expression. Powerful once, perhaps. He shifted in the armor, its weight once so comforting alerted dozens of aches and pains across is massive body, alerting him just how far past his prime he fell. Perhaps it was not too late to turn back; to find an airship home. Let Equestria sort its own problems; his brow furrowed in thought, as a few select words in his native tongue escaped his disciplined lips.
“Honoris est praemium” Honor is its own reward.
To any of the ponies, had they stopped to look upon the ambassador, they would have caught him simply staring into his own reflection; an apparent exercise in vanity. Especially given that he was muttering to himself, bedecked in full res militaris. His right hand rested on the Gladius sheathed at his side; while his back protested silently at the weight of the Scutum emblazoned with the visage of Scorpan on his back. His red crested Galea held in the crook of his left arm, ready to take its place on his horned head. This was no exercise in vanity, it was an old bull silencing the last of his fear; banishing the last of his self doubt along with the image of a far younger creature who had entered this hall much the same way over five hundred years ago. That Minotaur had come, wearing the same armor, perhaps better fitting then; but none the less he had come bedecked in the same armor. That Minotaur had rebelled against the concept of diplomacy, of being a mere grapheocrates, a bureaucrat.
Akadios raised his right hand from the hilt of his sword to strike the massive door once, as thunder. The image of the black minotaur appeared in the place of his own reflection, the fire; or rather the stupidity of youth burning in those grey eyes. He pulled his arm back, elbow protesting audibly, he struck the door a second time, as thunder. The image of his younger self wavered slowly becoming the grayed being he knew himself to be. He gasped as arthritis claimed his right shoulder, forcing it to obey, his elbow to obey; to make contact with the door a third time, as thunder.
The doors swung open and Akadios, age five hundred and twenty nine; Ambassador from the Minoan Republic, sufferer of Arthritis, half blind in one eye, half deaf in one ear strode into the Throne room of Canterlot to take his place beside Lord High Marshal, Shining something was it; Akadios cursed his fogging memory. Whatever the offiers name was; he was currently in the process of open rebellion.
“Princess Celestia, With all due respect…shove it.” The Lord High Marshal held no malice in his voice as he gestured to the small number of Unicorns, Earth Ponies and Pegasai bedecked in a mix of golden and silver plate. Members of both the Day and Night Guard the ambassador noticed. At the Lord High Marshal’s movement they turned and mustered out into the hallway.
“What is this Shining Armor? You would really disobey me now? Of all times?” Princess Celestia was doing her best to sound indignant.
Too much exhaustion and worry in her voice, indeed she looks drained. Akadios with skill born of centuries navigating the courts of Canterlot and the senate halls of Minoa; tuned out the conversation that followed between the princess and her highest military official. He knew where the conversation would lead. she would threaten, Shining Armor would call her bluff; she would plead, he would refuse. Shining Armor knew the meaning of Honoris est praemium, even if he did not know the words. Akadios was more concerned with his friend, Celestia; rather he was concerned for her. In the centuries he had known her, she had been timeless as his own body succumbed to the fangs of age; she had remained unchanging, youthful. It had been a bit of stability in his life that he had not realized until this moment he had taken for granted. Now she looked so…Tired, so old. Worn down by time beyond her countless years. She was also devoid of her cutie mark; the significance of which was not lost upon him.
At last Shining Armor departed allowing him to approach the throne; tears graced the corners of Celestia’s eyes he moved, the subtle clinking of his Baltea against his bronze Ocreae; mercifully muffling the sound of his creaking bones. He looked up to her, his expression resolute; then with a pained grunt settled to a kneeling positon. A movement, that took embarrassingly too long, if he survived this he would speak to a Equestrian Doctor about knee replacements, and maybe a face lift; he could do with a few less wrinkles. To her right sat Princess Luna, to her left the Princess Candance; both bore the same beleaguered look that was now added with worry directed at the eldest Alicorn.
“Last time you wore that my halls you promised to slay a dragon in my honor, to prove your worth as a member of my court.” Her voice cracked.
“Akadios remembers Princess.” His voice betrayed no emotion as his grey eyes locked onto her orbs of pale magenta.
“You returned days later; half dead with the dragons head; and an egg. There was nothing I could do dissuade you from the task you set for yourself.” She was crying now, struggling to support herself upon her throne under the weight of her crown.
“Akadios was never a smart bull Princess.” The corner of his lips curved up slightly as the sounds of battle echoed up from the courtyards below.
“Tirek is too powerful Akadios; your not as young as you used to be.” She pleaded, falling into a prone position.
“He’s taken so much power, so much magic; please old friend; see reason when was the last time you drew that sword?”
Akadios cried out as his back suffered spasm out of spite in his attempt to stand; but stand he did so he could place his Galea upon his head. “Five hundred and twenty seven years ago Princess.”
She opened her mouth in a silent cry, lovely features betraying her heartbreak so plainly before she found her voice. “He will kill you Akadios; Tirek has been ageless in his prison, you can’t hope to do this, its madness! See reason!”
Akadios shifted uncomfortably; pulling his Scutum into his now free left hand. “Akadios was never a smart bull Princess; but Akadios has always been stubborn.” He smiled in full now, face vanishing beneath uncounted wrinkles; he forced a half bow from his disobedient body, then turned to leave the throne room.
“Is there nothing I can say to make you leave?” she sounded so small, so weak; so afraid. Only validating the need for what he must do, the need for him to succeed.
“Akadios will not leave you to the mercy of Tirek Princess; my people have a saying.” He did not turn, but sensed her eyes boring into the back of his now armored head. “Honoris est praemium; It translates into your language as Honor is its own reward; but it is but half of a larger saying.” He paused at the two large doors; not remembering when he continued walking, though his knees certainly did. “Sine honore nihil sumus; without honor, we are nothing.” He turned to face her once more, his face still lost in a smile.
“Akadios will stand against Tirek; Akadios will give his life if needed this day. But not for honor.” He placed a hand on each door.
“Akadios will give his life for a friend.”
He shut the doors with as much force as his ancient muscles would allow…as thunder.
