Warband: Shattered Equestria

It was a clear blue sky above, and a mess of white below.

Aurora leaped and glided to the next cloud in the sky, a low hanging tuft of near freezing water, barely keeping itself afloat. His father landed on a higher piece of sky acreage. Their prey scurried underneath. The buck they chased was tearing through the undergrowth between the trees like they were just paper. The wind was at their front, holding them back. They were at a disadvantage this chase. They had to act fast and smart.

Normally they would have lost it in the thick foliage of the woods, but now it was Winter, and winter meant that the deer stuck out like a thumb amongst the dry snow. It was their sole advantage, and the only reason the hunt continued.

His dad frowned as they glided to the next cloud. He was worried, and it was easy to see that he was eyeing the edge of the cloud group off in the distance. If the deer got that far, then the whole forest would see them and would be on high alert. That is if the forest wasn’t already. Of course, they couldn’t lug this gear too long in the air anyway. Getting up here was one thing, staying in the air with all this gear for a long time, especially at speed, would be nigh impossible. Either way, that was the finishing line for the buck.

Aurora glanced down again as the buck crushed a particularly large group of foliage and stumbled. A small white covered bush was lost in a explosion of snow and branches as the buck lurched forward through the small foliage like it didn’t exist. This buck was a serious monster of a beast.

Aurora didn't wait for his dad to leap for it. Already he was drawing back his bow and taking aim. The magic flowed seamlessly from his hooves,through the leather of his gloves, and held the bolt and crossbow. The wind was mostly calm, but with a slow frigid southerly. The buck had already recovered, but it wasn't back to speed. The bow would only kill if he hit true, but it would give his dad a chance to move in closer.

Aurora took the shot.

The bolt missed by inches. He had misjudged the wind. Luckily the deer stumbled to the side, jolted by the sound.

Before Aurora could draw again, his dad was spiraling downward. It was a counter clock corkscrew. Just before Aurora's father would hit the buck he threw down a small spear, goring it halfway through the neck. It was too much for the buck, and it collapsed sideways into a heap of leaves, throwing up a small cloud of ice particles and a mist of buck sweat.

Aurora stopped to catch his breath as his dad finished the buck off with a small cut, and began to eye around for his last bolt. He frowned as he spotted it crushed a few steps behind where the buck had collapsed.

While Aurora's hooves busied themselves with checking his crossbow and bolts, his mind mulled over the way his father had dived down. The other Pegasi in the village usually did straight dives, it kept them from tiring out, was faster, and it made less noise. It made sense. He hadn't really thought of it much before, but lately, right about his tenth birthday a month ago, Aurora had realized that he had no idea why his father did it the way he did.

Most of the other Pegasi simply let go of the spear too. His father throwing it made sense, he threw it to compensate for the fact that he was going slower. But how did he even learn to do that. Aurora had never figured out how to manipulate things with his hooves when going that fast. He knew the Kerghits could, but his father was a nord!

Now wasn't the best time to ask him. Dad hated when Aurora tried to talk to him while he was getting all the bits they needed, aka everything, from the deer. He'd once heard that Applekalans refused to hunt, he'd always thought it was stupid. Cured meats stored better than grain did, horns could be carved into combs and brushes for the merchant’s families, entrails were made into pouches and bags, bone made into beads and flutes, sinews into strings, and pelts had a infinite array of uses that were hard to replace with other materials.

Aurora glanced down and spotted his dad pulling a knife out of a small sheath. With a slight queasyness in his chest, he looked away. Hunters weren’t expected to learn how to skin till adulthood. The cutting of flesh was an adult matter. He’d helped with carving the bones and helped to weave the sinews, but the rest were dealt with by tanners and the like.

Aurora almost missed his dad calling for him. Reluctant, he turned back.His stomach lurched a little at the sight of the reddened knife.

Aurora let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the mostly complete deer, except for the spear hole and slit throat, but that was doable. He landed in the snow, his leather boots softly crushing the snow, but keeping his hooves warm and more importantly dry. Ponies had soft fur all around the hoof, that could carry the cold water all the way to their shins. While that didn’t seem like a problem right away, getting caught in below zero weather with wet legs was a good way to die painfully.

“Son, that was a smart shot with the bow, but you have to remember to use your wings to feel for the wind.” Aurora blushed as his dad complimented and admonished him. There was a small pause as his dad considered the dead buck. "I think this son of a bitch ruined our hunt. We'll have to try again in a few days when things calm down."

Aurora nodded along. That made sense to him. "How about you go get the reader?" Aurora's eyes lit up at the out of the blue reward, but he tried his best to suppress his excitement.

"Go on you git. Go get the man with his books. If you're extra good I might let you learn a few letters." Aurora did a little dance of joy with his boots throwing up snow before dashing off. He could hear his father chuckling as he headed back towards the village.

Aurora blushed nervously as he trotted up to the door of the village reader. The door, itself expensively finished, was an entrance to one of the nicest houses in the village. All of this was a reflection of the reader's power and respected position.

The reader was the only pony in the village who could read the longer words, words like “emancipation” and “interrogative”. It was his job to explain the queen's decrees, retell old tales about the Patriarch, pen letters to other villages and to the town council in Sartrot, and most importantly, he inscribed the protective runes for the village longships. The longships we made were a major source of income, and sometimes the Queen or King bought them for their retinues!

Or so Aurora was told. To him the village reader was important because all of the village's truly ancient stories were on parchment, and he knew them and read them better than anypony Aurora had ever heard.

With a nervous blush I knocked. Moments later, the reader was always punctual, the door was opened.

For a moment Aurora could hardly help but stare. The village reader seemed like a sedentary position, but he was somehow one of the tallest, strongest, and fastest stallions in the village. Aurora only came up to the Reader’s barrel, but everything there and below was muscle pure and simple.

On the Reader’s flanks, though not visible from where Aurora was standing right then, was a mark. They were rare things, but each one was true. Those with marks had a destiny, no matter how small, and they had an ability unique or powerful. The Reader’s mark was a book with the letters floating away.

"Yes?" The Reader prompted gently. Aurora stuttered mentally, but managed to look to the Reader in time to smile up to him and save some face. Reader smiled in greeting, and Aurora felt little butterflies dance in his chest

Aurora knew of some same gender couples in the village. They almost always became a herd with a opposite gender added in, but there wasn't law saying they had to. Aurora wasn't sure that was what he was, but he and my dad talked about it.

"My dad wants to hire you for the night, to continue our reading from last time." Aurora and his dad weren't in a herd like everypony else, and it was just the two of them, so they actually had a lot of extra bits. Aurora’s dad was saving most of them up for something, but when Aurora did something that made him proud, like today, he hired the reader to tell us extra tales.

The reader and his herd were fed well enough, but, from what his son said, he wanted to send some of his kids to the college in Wercheg. It made a lot of sense. Aurora's village didn't really have a doctor, and the village had enough expenses that they couldn't bribe one to come. If they did get a doctor they'd be a lot better off than their neighbors. Their neighbor's daughters and sons might migrate here, and the whole village would be wealthier with the increased labor, as it still had more land for farms.

The reader gave a smile and a nod. He disappeared inside for a second before coming back with a book.

"Adventures of the Patriarch and her friends, chapter five?" Aurora gave a satisfied nod.

The reader closed the door behind him and nudged Aurora back towards his home. Aurora's home was both a residence and a watchtower. The base was a wide short stone home, but the tower part situated in the North Eastern corner stood nearly three stories high, with a square roofed top.

The walls of the tower were covered in fishing nets, and inside there were hunting bows, crossbows, and spears. Its base was the same mortared stone of the rest of the home, but the higher walks were leather covered wood. The roof had nails sticking out of it, to prevent griffons from attacking it from above.

Not that there had been a griffon raid recently. The last one was about eight years ago, there were a few injuries, but it only claimed a mare and two colts.

Aurora's mother and brothers. They had been staying in the watchtower alone. It had been even longer since the last war or raid, and nopony had been watching.

Aurora thought of it passingly as the nails glinted dully in the sun, as he usually did. He didn't hate griffons, he had a griffon friend. The village's lord had one in his retinue, and the retainer's son lived in the village some of the year.

Yet here he was without a mother. There was no blood vendetta left to claim, the village lord was nothing if not responsible and had rapidly squashed the raiding party.

It wasn't important anyway, there were stories to hear.

Aurora spotted his dad bathing in the river the tower overlooked. It was the Sartrot river, the same one they used to send their longships to the city.

The river was slow with ice today, and the water around his father was red.

Aurora directed the reader inside before his dad could be spotted. Most village ponies who didn’t work the hide and organs couldn’t stand the sight of blood or animal bits. The reader definitely couldn’t.

Aurora grabbed some bread and stale beer as the reader sat down. His father always said that being kind to visitors was paramount, and Aurora considered that double for this visitor.

"So my lad, are you ready to hear more about our great patriarch, and her defeat of the evil dragon of snagglehorn peak?" Aurora nodded eagerly.

No one knew the name of the Nordic Patriarch. The Applekalans had the Bountiful Applejack, the Swadians the Royal Rarity, Sarranids had the Festive Pinkie, Vaegirs had Magical Twilight, the Kerghits had Fluttershy the Betrayed, but we Nords simply held the stone of loyalty, and knew of her colors. The rainbow marked her temples, and the blue marked the banners of our nation.

The reader opened the book and began, his voice enunciating (a word Aurora had learned from him) clearly and emotively with great skill. The way he described the cool dew of the morning made Aurora's hooves feel damp, the soot of the dragon breathe darkened the room. The reader seemingly disappearing in the fog he cast over reality.

Sharp Eye smiled as he trotted through the river. The ice parting lazily around him as the blood was washed from his coat. Today's harvest sat on the banks under his watchful eye. They were neatly tied up in a bag made of another beast's hide.

As he washed, Sharp eyed the bag and considered the materials inside. He could get the carpenter to carve out a easy lute, and if he cured this meat and made a few combs he would have enough to hire somepony to turn the guts and the hunk of wood into a real instrument.

If he was being brutally honest, or possibly drunk, then he would admit that his son just wasn't cutting it as a hunter. Back when Sharp was Aurora's age, Sharp would have hit that buck dead on. Most of the other hunting colts and fillies in the village and ones nearby would have made the shot.

Aurora just didn't have the heart for it.

With a sigh, Sharp climbed onto the banks and rolled into a set of drying furs laying there. That was the other thing. Aurora loved the cold, but the boy’s fur was so soft and short that a drop of water on his back right hoof could climb all the way to his ears. Sure, Sharp wore boots too, but he didn’t have to.

Sharp lifted up the day's haul in his teeth and made for his home.

Sharp smiled as the familiar voice of Reader echoed from inside. The reader's power was in his voice, a soft tenor that could somehow touch deep rough bass and all the baritones in between.

Stepping in, he admired the very familiar sight of his son eating up the reader’s words like a starving pony attacks a cake. Thoughts of food and nourishment reminded him oh his son's size, much to his displeasure. His son should have grown out of his early year size, but he seemed to be a late bloomer. Either way… he just wasn’t built for being a hunter. Sharp knew that the birth vision hadn’t foreseen a hunter’s future, but he had always hoped...

Every father hoped his son would carry on tradition, but there were times when they just had to accept that sometimes the apple falls far from the tree and rolls a few meters more.

Which brought him back to the lute. His son was passable with Elder Lyric’s mandolin. The lute shouldn’t be too much harder to learn. On top of that, his son had spent his whole childhood  learning story telling from the best Sharp had ever met. A Skald or Musician should be within his grasp…

He hadn't gotten the courage to tell the lad yet. The lad gave hunting his all. He deserved a chance to keep trying to master it, but the longer Sharp waited to tell him, then the less time the lad had to learn it.

Sharp continued to contemplate the problem as he grabbed a shovel and stepped back out. Already there were a set of holes covered with wooden lids, but they needed cleaning out. The winter was a harsh mistress at times, but not without its uses.

Over the hill trotted a mare in a luxurious red velvet cloak. It was a rare product from the Sarranids, and it complimented the soft white lining she bore on her shoulders. Her trot was regal, but to a uninformed visitor her lack of wings stole the show. The mare was a member of a rare Earth Pony noble family, that is if you didn’t count the merchant families of Applekala. Sharp Eye certainly didn’t. Dirty money grubbing cheapskates.

“Hello your ladyship.” Sharp greeted as he gently lowered his catch by rope into the hole in the earth. It wasn’t a disrespectful greeting, but it lacked the normal deference to authority that would have come from a farmer or a serf. The mare in question did not anger nor did she sigh in defeat.

“Hello Sharp.” If a stranger had been watching they would have been even more perplexed. It was rare for a noble to converse with a common pony without using title, for which the landed commoner had many. It was both a form of respect and subjugation, a admittance of the commoner’s position in society, but that it was below the nobles. While it might have seemed petty to some, each serf and freeman fought jealously for their little titles as it was one of the few things they owned and could pass on. "Has Aurora grown any?"

Sharp finally felt his temper flare at mention of his son, but shook his head no in open honesty. He pointedly ignored her smile of satisfaction.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to reconsider my offer?" Sharp rose up with a scowl that was most certainly not common. It spoke of blood. "I understand that it offends, but surely you can see how it will benefit the boy. There's no chance he could survive on the road on his own, and less of a chance that he could survive in court."

"Unless I do as you suggest." Sharp interjected coldly.

"My plan will give him the necessary connections to gain patronage." The noble are countered in a measured and calm voice.

"It will make him a whore to cheap stallions in expensive clothes!" Sharp roared back. The two guards, each twice his weight, backed up two steps before recovering. Her Ladyship didn't budge an inch.

"You know me better than that, and male courtesses are respected more than that at court. You're just being stubborn, and you need to stop and think!" She roared back with a deceptively calm voice. Sharp staggered in the air and gave up his bag into the home with a dull and wet "thud."

“I know that, but-” here Sharp seemed to regain steam, “I still don’t see why he has to be a courtess, why can’t he be a courtier?!” Her ladyship gave him a pitying frown of worry.

“I know that you know better than that. He's about as attractive to mares as a kitten. Sure they'll cuddle him and doll him up, but they'll soon toss him aside. His only chance is to be a courtess." Sharp growled angrily and lowered his head. "I can tell you've been thinking about this, and I doubt you've come up with any other options."

"I... just... I can't let him get caught up in that nightmare. How could you keep him safe?" Sharp froze in confusion as a terrible smile overtook her ladyship’s face.

“As it just so happens, I have a very young Acolyte of Tihr looking for his purpose.” Sharp frowned in immediate worry.

“No way in hell. I don’t care if those idiots can hit a eagle a mile away, they aren’t made for a melee, and that’s exactly what politics is. He’ll be eaten alive and Aurora with him.” Sharp sighed.

“The monastery has a surprisingly cutthroat atmosphere. It’s very competitive. You’d be surprised.” Sharp hung his head in defeat.

“Fine, but not till his 16 birthday. He needs more time to learn things before the court ruins him.” The noble mare nodded in consent.

“Come on in.”

The Noblemare in red smiled as she spotted the familiar face of Reader with the colt in question at his hooves. Reader was an excellent example of stallionhood, and a sharp contrast with the colt at his hooves. The colt was a soft white, with a dull gray mane. His eyes were closed but the noblemare knew them to be a bright red, a uncommon but not rare color.

The colors were common enough up here in the North, it was the shape that concerned her. Aurora was small, his hips were too wide for his length and height, and he had soft gentle fur. He was, perhaps a bit unfortunately, the right shape for a courtess. The stallions would love him, and if Sharp and Reader were right he might just love them too.

“You’ve got two years to teach him to be an artist, after that I get to teach him how to make money at it.”

Aurora smiled as his wings gently stroked the strings. He ignored the gentle clapping of his friends and neighbor. The strings were enrapturing.

For one Crystal moment, Aurora wondered if this was his fate. If this was what he was meant to do for the rest of his life. A second later he almost retched at the idea.

Aurora had hardly been playing it for a year. If fate was so simple then bandits and frauds and the like wouldn't be a seasonal worry as they were.

He wasn't that good anyway.

Aurora stopped his wings to a chorus of sighs, all of them male. His attending audience was mostly the lankier colts of the village with the exception of Red Tanner, the red coated son of the tanner.

Red Tanner had been Aurora's greatest tormentor back when he was six or seven. Red's father was a practicing member of the Dawned Six, a barely tolerated sect of the church of subservient unity back in Swadia. They disliked "impure ponies." Nopony liked either of them,but Tanner had gotten better.

Most Nords, like Aurora and his dad, were worshipers of their primarch and her patrons. Not devoted worshipers, only the priests were really devote. Most Nordponies just observed the festive days.

Aurora fondly recalled last Winter Independence Festival, and felt nervous anticipation for the one this coming December. In fact, it gave him an idea for a song he could play.

With a few fresh notes and a chorus of cheers, Aurora fumbled for the lyrics in his brain.

"We drink to our youth, glory days past and done, for the age of magic is now dead and gone.

We'll keep out the Swadians, and protect our own. With hoof, wing, and steel we will hold onto our homes.

The patriarchs are gone, slayed by their kings! The betrayers' rejection we drink and we sing. We're the children of Nordland and for our freedom we strive, and if the Swadians ever return we'll see that they die.

For this land is ours, and here we remain. Our children's' inheritance, our freedomed domain.

The patriarchs are gone, slayed by their kings! To the betrayers' rejection we now drink and we sing. We're the children of Nordland and for freedom we strive, and if the Swadians ever return we'll see that they die.

We drink to our youth, glory days past and done, for the age of magic is forever gone."

Aurora flinched as he flatted on the final note, but the crowd gave him a good cheer anyway. Of course they would, he was the only singer in town, even if he wasn't any good at it.

Some of them didn't clap until after everypony else, those ponies weren't any less enthusiastic, they just weren't here for the music. They were here to see him in his new blouse and longer boots.

Aurora fondly remembered his dad taking him to the shop to be fitted for the boots. It was the first time he had been measured by a real tailor.

He looked cute, or at least everypony had told him so. Aurora didn't really think of himself as cute. He was a colt, and while he definitely wanted to be cute, he didn't think he was cute.  It was nice to imagine, to pretend to be cute, but it was just pretend and his dad had convinced the village colts to play along.

Aurora smiled as he continued to string along a few chords, but nothing truly song like. A few of the colts wandered away to a few of the other tents. It was a weird feeling being sixteen, but it was the lack of feeling different at all that made it all the stranger.