Jokers and Rogues

Chapters

Prologue
On the other side
Make some friends
Last Call
Crestfall

Prologue

“How is this my life?” Amber Shine asked herself in a huff.

Amber Shine was a young up and coming recruit of the Lunar Guard. Her fiery mane and tail for which she was named stood out brightly against her dull blue fur. Her long bat like wings were kept folded at her sides while her golden cat like eyes gave the world around her a dull stare. The body of this mare was one of taut and toned muscle that reflected a dedication to honing herself into a weapon. She was clad lightly with a simple shirt of body armor and metal horseshoes bearing the Equestrian Sun and Moon. As a yawn pushed itself free of her throat, she opened her mouth wide revealing her long pointed fangs while her tufted pointy ears fell back against her skull.

Between all the stories her father and grandfather had told her growing up, the comic books she'd read, and all the over the top recruitment posters, Amber had always thought that joining the Guard would be the adventure of a life time. She'd get to see the world, go to places that she'd only ever heard of in books and movies and live a life of excitement and intrigue... Instead, what she had was a night sitting behind a desk in the front lobby of the "greenhorn" princess's library.

With a frustrated sigh she let her forehead plop against the desktop in front of her. “This so freaking lame,” Amber grumbled out loud.

Her mind drifted back to several months ago when she had signed on with the Royal Guard. She’d thrown herself into the experience, heart and soul, pushing herself in everything she did. Some claimed she took things a bit too far but Amber believed otherwise. Yes, she’d had a few “accidents” on the job...Like the delegate from the Gryphon Empire that she’d been assigned to protect and had accidently crashed their carriage into a fountain. But that hadn’t been her fault! The route was supposed to have been cleared, and that mime had been suspicious looking. Or that cakewalk job where she was assigned to deliver an important package for Princess Celestia herself that somehow was opened and the contents eaten. She'd forgotten her coin purse at the barracks and didn't have money for lunch! What else was she supposed to eat? She had been starving! At least the Princess had been a lot more understanding than her commanding officer. But one of the biggest black marks on her still short record, the time she struck the ambassador from Saddle Arabia. Served him right with how familiar he'd gotten with her in the hallway.

While most ponies would have been thrown out on their flanks by now, Amber Shine had pleaded and begged for one, last chance. A chance that her CO reluctantly allowed the mare. He told her that this was her last chance, this one final assignment had to go without any kind of hitches or screw ups or she'd be drummed out of the Guard. It would make her the first in her line to ever be thrown out of the Royal Guard, a shame that would haunt her family for generations. It just didn't make this job any less boring.

"Would it've killed the LT to at least give me a partner for this, somepony to talk to while I'm here," Amber grumbled to the empty room. "Nope, just me, the musty tomes and princess bookworm or whatever her name is."

Amber cast an annoyed glance in the direction the alicorn in question had last been seen headed in. The thestral had tried to strike a conversation with the other mare, but the most she could seem to dislodge from her were a few to the point answers and the constant reminder of I'm afraid I have very important research to conduct. Granted, this particular mare had saved Equestria and probably the whole freaking world more than a few times, so maybe she really was working on something super important. That still did little to quell Amber's slowly growing annoyance with her less than engaging company. So instead she turned to the one bit of entertainment she'd managed to sneak in with her.

Amber slipped a hoof under her armor and fished around for a minute before pulling a comic book from under the protective layer. The cover depicted a large bipedal grey skinned creature that was littered with scars and strange tattoos clad in a simple loin cloth and hefted a big thick club upon its shoulders. Across the top of the cover page in bold stylized letters were written Krugknark the Barbarian and showed the creature known as Krugknark battling multi-headed hydra. Flipping open the illustration in her hooves, Amber settled in for what was sure to be a very long quiet night.

"Krugnark, you know how to freaking live," she moaned to herself. "Fighting monsters and evil sorcerers, never take any orders or do boring desk work."

Her supposed quiet night was brought to screeching halt when a shout rang out from deep within the aisles followed by a loud THUMP. Moving solely on instinct, Amber leapt to her hooves and made a b-line for the source of the noise. What she found though, was not what she'd been expecting.

It took her time to traverse the rows and rows of books that her alicorn charge had accumulated in such a short time. The span of pony knowledge was conveniently blocking Amber’s path and obstructing her ability to protect the Princess. After cutting through the history section she galloped onto the scene. A pile of knocked over books littered the floor just beneath a broken shelf. while standing at the center of it was a tall creature the stood on both of its hind legs. Its body was covered by dark clothing that hung somewhat loosely from its form with a hood and mask of bleached bone concealed his face. Beneath the dark clothing she could see hints of a toned muscular build that lacked any kind of curvature to it which made her assume this was possibly a male. At his feet was a large brown sack that contained something the was awkwardly shaped but a lock of violet mane told Amber exactly who was in that bag.

"Hold it right there, criminal scum!" Amber Shine roared at this mystery attacker.

"I don't have time to play with you, little girl," he hissed at her before grabbing the sack and swinging it like a bat.

Amber had been in mid-lunge when the bag struck her in the side with all the force its wielder could provide. She let out a pained yelp as she toppled into one of the bookshelves followed by a clatter of falling tomes and breaking wood. She was only stunned by this for a moment before her vision cleared enough to see her attacker pulling the shelf from the other side of the isle on top of her. The mare let several curses fly as she brought her forelimbs up to protect her face from the avalanche of reading material that fell upon her.

"I've heard tell that knowledge can be dangerous," the masked intruder said with a snort before turning to make his exit. He didn't make it far as a sharp pain shot through his left calf and bled into the rest of his leg. Casting his gaze downward, he saw the mare had managed to weasel her head free and sunk sharpened teeth into his leg. "Monstrous little freak!" he shouted at her before kicking the side of her head to free himself.

Amber’s mouth was awash with a mixture of both his blood and hers when the blow struck her hard. She cleared her head just in time to see him limping away, the bag slung over his shoulder and a trail of blood leaking from the hole in his leg. Amber Shine forced herself to rise back to her hooves and forcibly free herself from the book avalanche she’d been hit with. Once freed from her tomb of paper and ink, she spat out a mouth-full of blood and her fleeing opponent’s leg. With a smirk she wiped the blood from her chin and lips.

No longer hampered by the piles of written knowledge, Amber took off at a dead gallop through the darkened halls of the castle. The sharpened eyes of the thestral however could easily see where she was going and the trail of blood on the floor. Moreover, her keen sense of smell was tracking the scent of her prey while her long predatory ears scanned for his now hobbled steps.

“You can run, but you can’t hide from me,” she growled under her breath.

Luckily for her, the castle of her charge was one of the smallest and easiest to navigate, soon she could see her target just as he was making his escape. Amber watched as the masked figure touched the surface of a large ornate mirror. It began to glow and ripple like some kind of arcane pool of water and even more to her shock he was starting to move through it. Pouring every bit of speed she could find into her limbs and wings, Amber threw herself into the small of her opponent's back. He let out loud shout as the bag slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor behind them. The force of her blow was more than enough to send both of them hurtling forward through the magical mirror. Everything around her turned into a strange twisting twirling mass of color and light that blinded her until she and her enemy were spat out through another mirror. Amber's world continued to shift and wobble off kilter while she fought to keep herself on her hooves.

Her sharp eyes could see that they were in a small stone chamber that was dully light by several small braziers. Along the rough stone walls hung a number of charts and other strange drawings that depicted things beyond her current understanding. The scent of incense and other burnt offerings filled her nostrils filled her with an uneasy feeling as the more primal half of her mind began to identify what they came from.

Her attention quickly snapped to the figure beneath her as it began to stir. She turned the creature onto its back and quickly knocked the mask away so she could see its face. What she found was a mostly furless visage save for the stylized mustache just above his lip. Small blue eyes glared at her while a touch of sweat rolled down his exposed skin.

Putting the meat of her forelimb against his throat and applying just enough pressure to keep him worried she glared right back at him. "Who are you, why did you just try to kidnap one of the princesses!?"

"Because he was ordered to," a raspy weathered voice growls at her from a shadowed corner of the room.

As Amber turned to find this other culprit there is a flash of bright white light that filled her vision to a painful degree. A numbness filled her entire body and she soon found herself unable to keep her eyes from slipping shut. The last thing she felt before everything suddenly went black, was the cold uncaring embrace of the stone floor.

On the other side

Hurt, everything just plain hurt: Her wings hurt, all four of her legs hurt, her back and flank hurt, and her head sure as spit hurt. But Amber didn’t have much time to wallow in this pain when a fresh new wave of it entered her system. Something hard and solid struck her gut and sent a shockwave through her entire body. Her eyes shot open with a gasp revealing a hazy blurred world that continued to spin out of control around her. Before she was fully collected another blow slammed into her stomach again. She tried to curl herself up on instinct and lessen the pain somehow but found herself unable to move. A tight binding cut into her limbs and refused to budge even an inch. When her vision finally started to clear she saw that she was in a dark room that was dimly lit by sconces along the walls. Her nocturnal eyes could see that the room was lined with dank, dingy stone while the pungent smell of mildew and several scents that chilled her filled her nostrils.

What’s more, she wasn’t alone: Standing in front of her with the darkly clad intruder she’d dealt with, his skull mask once more hiding his face.

“Hello there little birdie,” he said with a cheerful tone. "So glad to see you are finally awake."

Her first instinct was to ram her hoof into that arrogant face of his but once more Amber but her forelimb refused to obey her mental commands. Shifting her gaze up and down she found that she was bound to a large table that sat an angle to the floor. Her legs and midsection were bound by thick leather straps that held her down and cut into her skin beneath her fur. The more she struggled and the harder she fought the restraints the tighter they felt. Moreover, her uniform and armor was gone, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.

His hand roughly grabbed her by the jaw and forced her to look him in the eye yet again with careless abandon. “You have caused a lot of trouble in just one night,” he told her while leaning in closer. “Because of you, several years of planning and preparation to bridge the gap between your world and ours has been put to ruin by your bungling. Magus Lorenzo is not pleased.”

“My deepest apologies,” Amber snarled at him. “If you have a problem with my conduct, you really should take that up with my commanding officer.”

“Such a brave girl you are,” he praised her. “Do you have any idea what’s about to happen to you?”

“First guess,” she tugged at her restraints again. “Something I normally don’t agree to without a few drinks first.” Despite her situation, she smirked. “Be gentle - it’s my first time.”

“How droll - did you think your sense of humor would see you through this?” He reached over to a table that sat beside hers and picked up a long serrated knife. In the dim light of the braziers that lit the room, it showed signs of caked material from use without cleaning. Her captor brought the blade close to her face to show her the weapon before he playfully dragged it across her cheek, just barely pressing in enough to shave some of her fur off.

“In any case, as I said before, you have cost the Empire much,” he whispered to her. “It will take a great deal of time before we can use the mirror again and by then your people will no doubt be ready for another incursion. So, you are going to tell me everything about your military and what they are capable.”

“You wanna know what we’re capable of?” Amber asked with a smirk. She reeled her head back and let fly a wad of saliva that struck the front of his mask. “How’s that for a start?”

He roughly took her by the neck while his strong grip pressed tightly into her throat and began cutting off her air supply little by little. She could feel his glare on the other side of his dead mask boring into her. The blade he had been holding in the other hand slammed into her table just beside her face, close enough to cut a line of red through her cheek. He took a few calming breaths and slowly let her go while a low chuckle started to grow in his throat. Inwardly Amber smirked at this-she’d found something she could dig at for the time being.

“That was very rude of you,” he warned her.

“Believe me pal, that isn’t even the tip of the iceberg,” she sneered in return.

“That will be a problem, I really do not like rude women,” he reached over her head and began tightening the straps on her forelegs.

Amber bit down hard on her lip as she held herself in check from screaming, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “C’mon, is that all you got ya hairless ape!?”

He took a step away from her and started to busy himself with his tools. “Perhaps we should just escalate things.” He suggested. “When I was a child, I used to catch little birds,” he told her in a calm casual tone. “I would cut their wings off and then throw them to my cat.”

Amber’s eyes started to widen in fear as his story started to make sense with her current situation. To her horror he picked up a large gnarled cleaver and walked over to her side. She started to struggle violently against her restraints now while her wings clung tightly to her sides. His hand took her by the left wing and fought with the surprisingly strong limb. Eventually he managed to pin it against the table and hold it in place.

“That fear I see in your eyes, are we ready to talk yet?”

“Go to Tartarus, you fucking bastard!” she hissed at him with her fangs bared.

He gave her wing a painful twist until she let out a yelp for him. Her masked captor dragged the chipped blade of the cleaver across the limb of her wing to let her feel the sharpness of the weapon. She shut her eyes tightly and tried to put this out of her mind, she couldn’t talk, she wouldn’t talk, Equestria depended on her.

“Am I hurting you little bird?” he whispered into ear. “My leg still hurts too you know. I suppose this will make us even.”

“Let me off this thing and I’ll tear the rest of it off!”

The cleaver fell with a flash of metal after her response and Amber let out a shout as she braced herself for the coming pain. She stiffened at the thought of looking down and seeing nothing but a bloody mess where her wing used to be. But she felt nothing. Cracking her eyes open she saw that he slammed the blade into the torture table just short of cutting into her wing. Then he did something that cut even deeper. He laughed.

“Did I scare you little bird?” he asked while retrieving the cleaver. “This is your last and only chance to save your pretty little wing. Tell me what I want to know.” He whispered sweetly into her ear.

She glared as hard at him as she could. The raging torrent of fire in her breast burned and tore at her soul as it pushed its way through her veins. Amber could feel tears starting to form and well up around the edges of her baleful eyes the more she stared down her tormentor. Breathing heavily, she said the only thing that came to mind. “Screw you!”

He brought the cleaver up yet again and once more Amber shut her eyes tightly. Her mind for just a moment though about how she would never again soar through the night sky with her brothers and sisters. She would soon be half a Thestral, bound to a life crippled and chained to the earth she strode upon. The held back tears started to roll down her cheeks and the once strong guardsmare let out a quiet prayer to Celestia and Luna to somehow deliver her from this. But it wouldn’t be them that answered her pleas.

As if in answer to her prayers the door to this dungeon was kicked open. On the other side stood another of these creatures, his features were softened by youth and marred only by a scar that cut a path down the right side of his face. His head of shoulder length blonde hair was tied back out of his deep blue eyes. He possessed a slightly smaller frame compared to her torturer yet he looked to be no stranger to rigors of hard work judging from the strong build he possessed. Over his modest clothing was a breastplate of armor and a torn ragged tabard that bore the image of a silver dragon upon a blue field. A pair of gauntlets and thigh armor provided more protection for him while a broad bladed sword was held at the ready.

Her captor let several choice words of rage before yanking the knife from the table and facing the intruder, a blade in one hand and the cleaver in the other. “What’s this, a baby dragon come to have his wings plucked as well? What brings you here boy?”

“I've no words for you, Reaper, only steel,” the newcomer snarled before rushing towards him.

He swung his weapon with a practiced motion at the darkly clad sadist’s chest but it found only air as his opponent leapt backwards. In answer there came a rapid flash of cuts that the young warrior wasn’t fast enough to dodge. To his credit, he was able to meet the smaller faster weapons with his own to shield the blows. Taking a step back, he used the longer reach of his sword to keep the skull masked Reaper at bay.

Amber's neck craned and jerked about as she watched the exchange play out just a few feet away from her. She could see that younger swordsman, while clearly knowledgeable in how to use his weapon, was at a slight speed disadvantage. The skull masked Reaper was far faster and more precise with his blows as he probed the armor for any gaps he couldn’t immediately spot. She couldn’t help but think of how one sided this fight might have been if he wasn’t still limping from the injury she’d given him. With a low growl she fought against her restraints yet again, hoping against hope that maybe this time they might break and she could join the fray.

There was a loud clang of steel as the Reaper locked the sword between the dagger and the cleaver. “Tell me boy, where’d you find this sword and tunic? Steal them off a dead Chevalier did you? Hoping you could make yourself a knight with their order dead?”

The young man growled in anger as he lashed out with his shoulder to force his opponent away. When he tried to advance on him, his opponent kicked the table of torture tools into him causing the swordsman to stumble. This was quickly capitalized on when the masked sadist rushed forward and knocked his armored foe to the ground. The Reaper was quickly on top of him and stabbed his knife into the unarmored meat of his arm causing him to shout in pain as well as loose his grip on his sword.

"Such a shame, with a bit of training you might have actually been a challenge," he taunted him before bringing the cleaver up to deliver a killing blow.

Before the thick rusty blade could make its descent towards the young man's head an arrow buried itself into his shoulder. The force of the blow caused him to topple off of the man he was hoping to kill and drop his cleaver. Amber's eyes tore away from the fight going on before her to find the source of the arrow. He stood in the doorway with another arrow already knocked on his bow string and readied to fire. His features were slight and fair with a touch of stubble and a short kempt mane of brown hair. Sharp green eyes that currently glared harshly at her captor and ears that came to a point. A long brown coat hung from his slim figure and obscured a multitude of tools and what looked to be some slight armor.

"Can't 'ave ye kill'in the squire," the newcomer said sternly. "Not till we been paid anyways."

“Knife eared bastard!” The Reaper shouted before scooping up his discarded cleaver in his still functioning hand and threw it with all his might.

In response to this exchange, the pointed eared archer let go of his bowstring and let the arrow fly. Arrow and cleaver brushed alongside one another in midair before continuing towards their respective targets. The cleaver slammed hard into the doorframe beside the archer’s head causing him to flinch away from the splinters that broke loose and flew at him. The arrow struck the upper corner of his chest and fell backwards to the ground where he laid limply upon the stonework with his blood pooling around him.

"Can stand be'in called a bastard, but knife ear, no call fer that," he said with a snort before looking to the swordsman. "Told ye ta stay ta the plan squire, what do ye do, run off ta find some distressed maiden?"

"Apologies, Rourke," Rictor said as he got back to his feet. "But I will not turn a blind eye to something as loathsome as torture." After retrieving his sword, Rictor looked about the room while a steady trickle of blood ran down his arm from the where the dagger still pierced him. "My lady, you're safe now no need to hide."

"Who's hiding?" Amber asked aloud.

Both of their eyes settled on the restrained Amber with clear shock and confusion on their faces. Rourke looked outside the room for a moment then back at Amber before asking, "Did that tiny horse jus' talk?"

"I... believe she did," Rictor answered with a bit of unease.

"Yeah, hi, name's Amber," she greeted them. "First off, pony, not a horse, secondly, would one of you mind getting me off this thing?"

Rourke roughly nudged the squire forward, who quickly got the message and went to work cutting the bat mare loose. "So, Lady Amber was it, right quick introductions, m'name's Rourke an' this here is one'a me men, Rictor."

"Rictor Laviolette, at your service my lady." Rictor introduced himself to her.

"Private Amber Shine, Equestrian Royal Guard, Lunar Guards division," Amber said in reply. When the last of her restraints was finally removed, the mare eagerly hopped off the table and gave her limbs a testing stretch to weed out any problems. "So where I am anyways?"

"Arse end'a what used ta be the nation’a Drechsel," Rourke replied. "Currently reside'in in a cozy dungeon out here in'a the wonderful Accosstan Empire's lovely little outposts. What brings ye here, Guardswoman Shine?"

"I was stopping that skull masked dink from kidnapping Princess Twilight Sparkle when I tackled him through some magic mirror doohickey. Next thing I know I'm strapped to an oversized cutting board and about to lose my wings. Thanks for showing up when you did."

"Aye, well, should be thank'in the squire," Rourke said with a wry grin. "Jus' had ta come run'in when he heard a lady in peril."

“I would’ve come, lady or not,” Rictor quickly defended with a touch of red in his cheeks. “My code demands I help any in need.”

“Well, now that ye’ve saved yer princess, we’ve got’a job ta finish,” Rourke reminded him before looking back to Amber. “Hope they taught ye how ta fight in them guard'a yers Shine."

They silently slipped their way through the darkened halls of the keep while the light of braziers and sconces pushed back the night. Several patrols had nearly found them in their slow but steady advance through the darkness as Rourke led the way. Amber was admittedly impressed by the man's skills in the art of stealth. Her instincts as a guardsmare told her that perhaps he’d had more than a little practice at this. Before long he'd led them through the fire lit halls to a simple wooden door at the end of the hall. He tapped against it with a four knock rhythm which was answered in kind. With an impish grin, he quickly slipped inside while motioning for the other two to follow him.

"Right, so, more quick introductions," Rourke said to the batmare.

The first he motioned to was a stout strongly built broad shouldered man that stood several heads shorter than Rourke. His head was bald save for a ring of black hair that circled his head around ear level with a pair of deep brown eyes. A long thick beard hung from his scar littered face and reached down to his stomach with three thick chains woven into it. He wore a suit of armor and chain that like his face was torn and tattered by past battles while a large thick staff topped with a heavy head of etched stone was propped against his shoulder.

"That there’s Ogrham Hammerbeard," Rourke said.

The next was a woman, at least Amber guessed she was female from the thin, curved form. She had long black hair that reached to the small of her back and was tied into a ponytail. What truly set her apart from anyone she'd seen thus far was her crimson skin and the horns atop her forehead that curved around the top of her head. Deep red eyes stared in boredom at the world around her while a long serpentine tail swayed back and forth. Her curvy form was dressed in dark, form fitting clothing with a long dark cloak that was draped around her shoulders. Around her waist hung a belt with a number of pouches and small satchels along with a curved dagger that had a highly stylized hilt.

"Our squire’s lovely sister, her ladyship Sabine Elisa Laviolette."

The last one was by in far larger and thicker than any she'd met before towering above even a minotaur's she'd met back in Equestria with just as much muscle. He was covered from the shoulder down in thick armor plate that looked to have cobbled from other sets. His shaved head showed signs having at one time had a mane of red hair while his mostly unmarred face came to a squared jaw. At his side hung a thick a axe while a heavy metal shield sat upon his back. Despite his large and slightly frightening appearance, his soft green eyes shone with an air of kindness.

"An' this hefty feller here is one Frank Jenkins."

"And I am certain there is a reason you are introducing us to a mutant pony?" Sabine asked with a critical stare aimed at Amber. "For that matter, where did you come by this creature?"

"Ye know me yer ladyship, always find'in strays," Rourke replied with a smile.

"And that creature has a name," Amber snapped. "I'm Private Amber Shine of the Equestrian Royal Guard, Lunar Guards Division."

"Bloody 'ell, the damn thing speaks," Ogrham said through a thick accent. "Wonder 'ow they got the wings ta stay on."

"Have a care Lord Hammerbeard," Rictor hissed at him. "She was being tortured by a damned Reaper when we found her, the bastard was about to cut the wings from her back."

"Reapers, Accosstan monsters what they are," Frank said in a sullen tone. "Sooner we leave this place the bett'a I says."

"Be leave'in soon as we do our job," Rourke assured him. "Private Shine's gonna help us too."

"I'm doing what now?" Amber deadpanned.

"Lest ye'd rather go back to be'in their guest?"

Amber, Rictor and Sabine quietly made their way through the night-soaked halls of the keep. The thestral's superior hearing and night eye made her invaluable in avoiding any of the guards that patrolled the halls. Under Sabine's direction they eventually made their way to an open yard at the rear of the keep. A number of soldiers in red and white armor milled about with their nightly duties. Several small fires dotted the area where soldiers gathered about to tell tales, some tended cooking pots while many simply had a good laugh to share with friends. Just beyond this small scene was a barracks that had been built against the back wall of the fort where several others came and went from. All of them however were unaware of their presence just a yards away from the other side of the a wall.

"What exactly are we doing here anyways?" Amber asked in a hushed tone.

"We're to create a distraction," Rictor whispered back. "Something to draw attention away from the front gate whilst the others open it."

"And how do we go about that?"

"Normally I would suggest simply setting the entire keep ablaze," Sabine stated flatly. "Unfortunately I am without proper components for such a task." Her gaze scanned the area until it fell upon a wagon heaped with hay and a wicked smile moved over her face. "But as always, improvisation is the salvation of the destitute."

The red skinned woman guided her companions to the cart at the corner of the walled in backyard. She muttered "Ignis," while waving a hand over the straw and much to Amber's surprise the strands of dried grass sparked and caught fire and quickly began to spread. Not wanting to waste time asking questions, she quickly fell in alongside Rictor and helped him lift the wheels free of blocks that kept it in place and started rolling it towards the soldiers. When it caught speed it quickly rolled away from their grasps and continued to barrel into the unsuspecting group.

One man in particular that was minding a stewing pot of meat and vegetables happened to look up just in time to see the rolling cart of fire. Shouting in alarm, he managed to duck out of the way before being run down. The cart however did not slow its pace until it smashed into the front of the barracks and launched its flaming contents inside. Screams and shouts filled the air alongside heat and smoke as the fire quickly spread throughout the building.

At the front of the keep, Rourke and the others waited in the shadows for the distraction they needed. Ahead of them was a wide open courtyard encircled by high walls that several Accosstan soldiers kept a vigil upon while a pair stood guard beside a massive wooden double doors built into the wall of stone. Scattered about the area were a number of braziers that cast a dim light against the shroud of night that currently fell upon the fortress. Right on cue plumes of smoke started rise into the night sky as well as many shouts from within the fortress walls. Much to Rourke's joy, half the men stationed at the gate left their posts and headed towards the commotion leaving only five men to deal with.

"Right then lads, time fer some fun of our own," pointy eared arched chuckled.

Rourke was the first to dash from the shadows. With long-practiced and honed motions, he jogged and hopped from object to object until he was perched upon the wall's walkway. He took careful aim and let fly an arrow that managed to catch one of the archers on the wall unawares. The shaft buried itself deep into his back until the head pierced through his chest. Sputtering and coughing up gore, he toppled from the roof and hit the ground in a limp heap.

Ogrham let out a loud shout in his native tongue as he bounded out across the courtyard, his warhammer raised high over his head. Close beside him Frank kept pace with the howling dwarf, his shield raised up and ready to defend and his axe in hand. Several arrows flew from the wall aimed at the pair, only to strike harmlessly against the strong material of the shield. Ahead of them, a pair of soldiers armed with spears rushed forward to meet them in combat.

One of the two remaining archers on the wall had little time to ready another shot when and arrow from the other side of the courtyard pierced his chest. His lung seized causing him to gasp one final time before falling to the ground.

Ogrham met the spearman head on and made no move to dodge his thrust. The tip pierced him in the shoulder where his armor gapped for moment. He grunted in pain before the bearded warrior to let out a boisterous cackle. His hammer fell hard upon the shaft, snapping it with ease. Before the opponent could react, the stone head of the war maul swung upwards and caught the man in the jaw. The force of the blow lifted him several inches into the air with the sound of snapping bone as his opponent’s jaw and most of his face was forced into the rest of his skull. He managed a gurgling noise before falling to the ground in a growing pool of blood.

Frank flinched when the spear struck his shield, but he kept his head enough to turn the blow away from him. Stepping into the opening he'd made he brought his axe down against the other man's shoulder. The force behind the blow was enough to break through skin, muscle and bone, hacking all the way into his chest cavity. Shortly after this victory however, Frank let out pained shout when an arrow pierced him through the lighter armor between his hip and thigh. The mountain of man stumbled forward but stopped himself with the edge of his shield buried into the ground.

Before the last remaining archer could knock another arrow to fire at the hulking man a voice bellowed loudly. "Fulmen Ignem," a streak of flame hit him in the side. The man was set ablaze and screamed in pain before dropping from the wall. Sabine gave the still smoldering corpse barely a glance as she passed it.

As Amber and Rictor followed close behind the dark woman, Amber could not help but give the burnt remains a sad look. For a moment she cursed her tribe's enhanced sense of smell and hearing. The stench of burnt hair, flesh and tissues filled her nostrils and tried to gag her while keen ears could hear the bubbling of the skin that still burned and the cracking of what had cooled. She was snapped out of this stupor by nudge in her side by Rictor's scabbard.

"Plan'in ta set the whole place on fire?" Rourke asked loudly.

"You have your distraction, thief," Sabine warned him before making her way towards the slightly hobbled Frank. "Dearest Franklin, are you alright?"

"Aye, m'lady," he said with a forced smile as he rose back to his feet. "Can still fight."

"Bah, the boy'll live lassy," Ogrham said with a snort before pulling the spear tip from his arm. “Oi, pon’eh, squire, gimme a ‘and with the door. Sabine, signal, now.”

Amber fell in along with the others, she and Rictor went to either door while Ogrham brought his hammer down upon the thick plank of wood that kept them barred. The hammer's blow shattered and splintered the wood with a single blow. The squire and the guardsmare pushed hard against the heavy walls of wood until they started pushing open. Over her shoulder, a ball of green flame shot into the sky and exploded with a bright loud pop.

"Okay, so, anypony mind telling the new girl why we're doing all of this?" Amber asked.

Before she could get her answer, several armed Accosstan troops poured back into the courtyard while several fresh bowmen took their positions on the walls. Amber braced herself for yet another fight, her fangs bared and wings spread out to their fullest. Her ears twitched as a thundering in the night grew louder and closer. Out of the black came a small sea of horses the likes of which Amber had never seen before. They were tall, strong and in some cases even armored. Moreover, they each bore a rider in dulled armor of various makes and materials while overhead they flew a black flag with a golden eagle. The riders let out a shout as they rode through the crowd of soldiers, hacking and slashing them apart in the process.

"Long story short, Shine," Rourke answered her. "We're open'in the door fer our friends outside."

An arrow brushed past Amber's cheek leaving a shallow gash across her face and reminding her of the current battle. She quickly ducked behind the heavy door before another pair struck the thick wood with a loud THUNK. Tentatively her head poked around the corner to see the chaos erupting throughout the keep, even her new allies had joined the fray.

Ogrham was already wading his way into the thickest of the fighting, his massive warhammer striking at anyone brave or foolish enough to get within range of the stout warrior. Sabine continued to cast her spells with devastating effects upon the archers on the walls, showering them with ice, fire and lightning while Frank stood guard at her side. Any who broke away from the melee to challenge the red skinned mage soon found themselves face to face with a hulking mass of metal wielding an axe. Overhead she caught a glimpse of Rourke as he darted about sending arrow after arrow into any target he could spot. Across the open gateway she saw Rictor, praying?

He had taken to one knee and pressed hand-guard of his sword to his forehead and his mouth moved with the softly spoken words that escaped. Through the sounds of metal striking metal and the screams of the dying and wounded, Amber's thestral ears picked out the young warrior's voice, "Bahamut, watch over us and guide my blade." With his peace said he rose to his feet and rushed around the corner, blade in hand and ready to join the fight.

Everyone had joined the battle, everyone but her. Here she was, a member of the Royal Guard, a weapon forged by the fires of Equestria's military and deployed in direct service to the crowns and she was hiding. Anger and shame burned through her body and filled her contempt for herself. This wasn't her fight, her war, her country or even her people, but one of them had risked everything and nearly died to save her. The least she could do was protect one man.

She spread her wings and with one strong flap she was launched high into the night sky. Soaring overhead, she could survey the fight with ease and quickly found her first target, an archer that had survived both Sabine and Rourke's attempts to clear the wall. Her sharpened predatory eyes honed in on him as he was drawing back on his bow and taking aim at Rictor while he crossed the open field of the courtyard. Tucking her wings against her sides, she went into a quick nose dive . Amber cut a path through the air right to Accosstan soldier just before he could lose his arrow. Her forehooves connected with the top of his head with a loud bone shattering crack before her wings shot out to halt her descent.

Amber gave a quiet thank you prayer to the Goddesses for making her and her pegasi cousins so resilient to falls. The bat-pony and the squire locked eyes for just a moment, she gave him a proud smile and nod before another projectile narrowly zipped past her flank. Hissing in annoyance, she went airborne again and quickly closed the gap with the soldier as he knocked another arrow.

Her hooves shattered his bow but his own reflexes allowed him to jump back before she could connect a blow to his body. The Accosstan drew his sword wasted no time in trying to hack away at Amber. She ducked and dodged as best she could, tumbling across the wooden planks or hopping through the air just out of reach. Her lack of armor kept her cautious while facing an enemy with a sword and her own lack of weapons kept her options limited. Thankfully she was a fast target and was able to outpace her armored and armed opponent. She needed to end this fight though, before one of his comrades joined in and made it harder than it was already.

Amber darted towards her enemy, just barely ducking under a swipe that would have cleaved through her neck. As she ducked between his legs, her long leathery wings acted like a pair of hands and grabbed him around his shins. Her already built of momentum coupled with the surprising strength of her wings yanked his feet out from under him and sent him toppling face first. Seizing the opportunity she now had, Amber took one quick jaunt into the air before coming back down with all her speed and force focused into one hoof that struck his spine. She could feel his entire body tense all at once with out loud painful scream before limply laying there with a last breath escaping him.

Breathing heavily, she trotted over to her felled opponent's weapon and took the sword between her jaws. She had a weapon now and that caused her confidence in this chaotic melee to sky rocket. Grinning inwardly, she took once more to the air and began scanning around for her next target.

The battle did not last long. With the first rays of daylight far across the horizon, Amber, her current companions and the riders in the night had routed their enemy. Many who had worn the red and white were now laying dead whilst others had been rounded up as prisoners and kept under guard.

Once more she hurt all over, Amber had not shied away from the skirmish that had followed with opening the gate. She fought with everything she had alongside the warriors of that flew the eagle flag and was feeling the price. Now that adrenaline had worn off she was no longer able to block out the pain and fatigue. Trotting her way to a fountain she took one of the buckets and poured it over her head. She could feel the caked gore and grime strip away from her while icy cold water soaked through her coat and into her muscles. Sitting on her haunches she tried to ignore the obvious curious stares she was getting from everyone around her.

"Well fought, lady Shine," Rictor's voice caught the mare's attention and drew her gaze towards him. Like her, he was caked with a fair amount of sweat, grime and gore that stained his armor and clothes.

She forced up a smile through her growing fatigue. "Honestly, I was just following suit with you and the others," Amber said in a hoarse raspy tone.

"You look to have taken quite a beating," Rictor commented.

Before she could answer him, he placed a hand gently on the side of her neck. A soft white light spread from his palm and moved itself across her body, filling her with a soothing sensation that radiated through her core. As she came out of this relaxed state, she looked herself over and saw that the cuts and bruises had all but faded with only the faintest evidence of them remained.

"Healing magic," Rictor answered her before she could even ask. "While I'm not as skilled as our master dwarf, I can mend most wounds to an extent."

"So, any chance I could get the full story about what's going on here?"

"You deserve that much," Rictor agreed before taking a seat upon an overturned bucket. "You've come to our land in the middle of a war, though many say the war is long since over and that we've clearly lost. This land, Drechsel, was once a small but strong kingdom that shared a border with the far larger Empire of Accossta. Many argue on either side about who started things, but in the end more than half of Drechsel was taken by Accossta and the remaining lands left to fall into ruin. These men you fought with are all that remains of the nation, remnants of the army, farmers turned freedom fighters, and rebels that want to see their country freed."

"So that's what you guys are then, a bunch of freedom fighters?"

"It’s a bit more complicated than that. Suffice to say... we’re on their side as them."

"And what happens to me now? I don't wanna sound ungrateful for the rescue or anything like that, but I'm a foreigner in these lands with no real stake in this war. Besides that, I don't even know where or how to get back home. All I have to go on is what that creepy skull mask guy said about bridging our two worlds. A lot of this is way over my pay-grade."

"I suppose, Lady Shine, that you'll have to decide that for yourself."

Rourke made his way into the small chamber deep within the walls of the small fort. There he found his comrade Sabine already engrossed in work. The demonic looking woman was already hard at work sifting through stacks of notes and charts as well other things. It looked as though everything had been taken in a hurry. Torn scraps were still hanging from walls where they had been hung when they were still whole. At the center of the room was a large circle painted onto the floor containing a number of strange runic symbols.

"It's blood," Sabine said with a straight face as she kept going through the notes and letters left behind. "Elf blood if I am correct."

"Aye, an' what're they use'in so much'a it fer?"

"If these scraps are to be believed, interplanar travel."

"Explains our new friend outside."

He made his way to the center and knelt down. "Looks like some'in was kept here fer a while, bit'a floor's discolored."

"They clearly took whatever their catalyst was with them. It would appear they conducted the ritual and fled before we arrived."

"Aye, very thing we came ta stop, think they were made privy 'bout us?"

"Perhaps, or perhaps they simply did not feel this location suited them any longer. If the girl's story is true though, then she disrupted a rather intricate plan that would have taken years of preparation on the Grand Magus's part. He will be seeking her head to line his study."

"Ye 'spose she'd want'a job?" Rourke asked with a devious grin.

The heavy fall of boots on stone echoed loudly off the walls deep below the conquered fort. Two lightly armored men wearing the gold eagle standard plodded their way through the lower halls going from room to room.

“Jus’ don’t see why we gots ta leave this place soon as we gets it,” one of them complained as he popped his head into yet another room. “Seems a waste after all that trouble.”

“Ye heard what the Colonel said,” his companion reminded him. “We ain’t gots a force that can make a stand yet, not even from a place like this. Gonna need a real fight’in army first.”

Eventually their trek brought them to a dimly lit room lined with a number of cells. At the center of the room was a large thick table that sat at an angle to the floor with a number of straps built into the surface. Looking closer at the room they could see a congealed pool of blood on the floor beside the table with a pair of arrows laying in it. Beyond that the room was empty, not even a body.

“Right, that should be the last room an’ not a soul to be found.”

“We’d best get go’in soes we ain’t left behind.”

Make some friends

Amber stirred in her bed as a loud and obnoxious beeping noise rang in her ears. With a great deal of reluctance and anger, she cracked her eyes to stare at the ceiling of her room. Looking to her side with a grunt, she saw her alarm clock blaring away with a reminder that it was time to get up. The pillowy covers of her big soft bed embraced her warmly, and made her lethargic body beg to remain where she was while her mind and the screaming alarm clock told her otherwise. With a tired groan, she reached over and plopped her hoof down upon the snooze button.

"Just a dream," she said with a touch of disappointment.

Her attention shifted to the small pile of comic books that were strewn about her floor, the majority of the titles being of the fantasy adventure genre. She sighed and rubbed her temples as the memories came flooding back to her. A twinge of pain and fear lept into her when she remembered the rather detailed torture chamber she'd been held in. There was a rise of warmth and joy when that strange looking knight came to her rescue. She began to suspect that maybe her subconscious might be telling her something about her repressed self. Excitement rushed into her system at the recollection of the battle that raged into the night. It surprised her just how vivid her own imagination could be; maybe she shouldn't binge on so many back issues of Red Sorena before bed.

With a grunt she let herself flop back into the loving embrace of her bed and as she laid her head down, a darkly clad arm reached around her from behind and pulled her back into something. Looking over her shoulder, she found herself staring into the unblinking empty eyes of a skull. "Go back to sleep little birdie."

Amber shot up with a start, cold sweat soaked its way into her fur as it ran down her entire body. She panted and fought to fill her lungs with breath, yet found herself unable to keep them filled for long. Her eyes darted about and found that she was most definitely not back in Ponyville.

Canvas walls encircled her and billowed slightly from the cold morning air clawing weakly at its surface. Through the material, she could see the outline of trees and branches against the coming sunlight. Her body was wrapped in a sleeping bag that served as a cheap imitation for her long lost bed. Just outside her tent she could hear several muffled voices chatting on about some subject or another. Grumbling about her disdain for mornings, she pulled herself to her hooves and trotted out of her tent.

She was first greeted by a blinding ray of light from the coming day, as well as the somewhat heavenly scent of coffee and what might be eggs. Amber soon made haste towards the the tantalizing aromas. As she neared, she was greeted by a gaggle of jovial voices that called her over to a small cooking fire. Her mind finally clearing enough to take in her surroundings better,she quickly noted that she and her companions were camped. Tall trees encircled them in a small clearing and filtered scant rays from the rising sun while a soft breeze pushed through the branches. With a tired wobble, the guardsmare plodded her way over to them with a groggy smile before plopping down on her haunches.

"Morn'in Shine," Rourke greeted her cheerfully as he placed a tankard of hot black liquid before her. "Slept well I hope."

Taking it in her hooves, Amber took a deep breath, savoring the strong smell of the coffee before taking a long, thankful sip. She could feel its warmth bleed from her stomach to the rest of her body, and soon she felt warm from head to hoof. A soft, happy sigh escaped her maw while the last vestiges of sleep melted away from her mind and body. "Not as bad as the last place I woke up."

More than a few chuckles were received for her humorous jab. She was awake enough now to see the small camp ground around her properly now. A few small tents had been set up within a clearing somewhere in a mass of woodlands. The four of them had taken up sitting around the small fire at the center of the campsite. Rourke reclined on his side sipping some of the hot blackened brew while Frank saw to the hot plates and their sizzling delights. Ogrham sat upon a stump puffing away on a small wooden pipe while Amber continued to take in her new surroundings.

"So why didn't we stay with the rest of the rebels?"

"Ye mean besides the fact that we got'a talk'in pony with bat wings," Rourke asked teasingly. "Simple answer: our job's done so now we move on till another one comes along."

"You're mercenaries then," Amber pointed out before sipping her coffee.

"In a manner'a speak'in," the archer informed her. "See, win or lose this lil war fer independence, none'a us has any kind'a home or family ta go back ta. Noth'in but a bunch'a no hopers, jokers an' rogues stuck in this fight that ain't gonna help us anyways. So, we made our own little family an' started find'in ways ta make a live'in off everyone's hate fer each other."

"Gods boy'o, ye'd make lawyers sound fook'in straight if ye cared ta," Ogrham said with a snort. "Short answer lassy, aye, we're mercenaries an' as ye saw last night damned good ones ta boot. Won't be a problem fer ye will it Private?"

In response to Ogrham’s question, the thestral leaned over the skillet and scooped a portion of the frying eggs onto a plate. "Unless one of you guys've got a magic portal back to Equestria laying around somewhere, I think I'll just have to get used to it. So where's the rest of our troupe?"

"Lady Sabine said she'd be warsh'in up by the stream," Frank said.

"An’ the squire's no doubt off sulk'in 'bout that Reaper that beat 'is arse," Ogrham grunted.

Beads of sweat ran down his face to and drenched his tunic while his shoulders rose and fell in a sluggish rhythm. Rictor breathed heavily as he glared daggers at the tree before him. In his hand was a long blunt sword that weighed down heavily in his grasp. With a tired grunt, he hefted the mock weapon into the air and swiped at the trunk against and again and again. Every motion of his arms shot barbs of pain through his shoulders, back and chest but he continued to push himself.

His still healing wound bit deeply into his arm when he brought the weapon up for another strike. It tore and ripped at him from the inside causing him to lose control of the weapon and stumble. Finally the pain became too much for him to bear and the young swordsman dropped to his knees. Panting and struggling for air, he glared up at the tree, his features set in a sneer. The scar on his face began to burn along with the growing anger that boiled in his gut. Desperately, he fought to pull himself back to his feet only to slip and tumble back to the ground where his lungs fought and struggled for air.

"Losing another fight with the trees I see," Sabine commented in an idle tone.

Turning his tired gaze to the direction of her voice, he saw the crimson skinned woman wrapped in a robe and leaning against a tree with a smug look on her face. "It's of no concern." Rictor replied through gritted teeth.

"Oh yes, of course..." she agreed with a faux pout. "No doubt you've shown that terrible oak, and never again will he threaten the lives of the innocent."

"What would you know about fighting!?" he snapped at her, and a brief second quickly regretted those words as he hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry sister, I spoke out of anger.”

Sabine however seemed barely fazed by his outburst. "I may not be a master of swordsmanship but I do know this: hacking at a tree trunk is not the same as hacking at a man. You've been in a few fights since that night young squire. You should know these things by now."

"What am I to do then?"

"Improve. As you are now, you would die before lifting your sword against him."

"If hacking at tree trunks is so useless then how?"

She stopped beside him and gently ruffled his hair. “You should ask the others to help you.”

“This is my burden,” he quickly cut her off. “It doesn’t concern them.”

“There is only so much you can do on your own, little brother,” she said softly to him. “Rage and vengeance can only carry you so far for so long. In the end, it will destroy you.”

Rictor said nothing as his sister headed back towards the camp. He sat upon his knees and waited for the pain in his arms and back to subside. Her words twisted and wrapped themselves around his mind for a time while he stared at the mock weapon in his hand. Grunting in annoyance, he jabbed the blunt blade into the soft loam and forced himself to his feet. Once standing again Rictor resumed his assault against the tree. Every swing that bit into the tree biting into his muscles.

“So, here comes the obviously passed over question,” Amber started between mouthfuls of breakfast. “What are you guys anyways? No offense but we don’t exactly have any hairless bipeds running around Equestria.”

“Only fair, not sure what to make’a you either lassy,” Ogrham said as he lit the contents of his pipe, soon taking a drag from it.

“Well, I should be pretty obvious, bat features on a pony body, hence the term bat pony,” she pointed out while flexing her wings out from her sides for display. “Or thestral depending on who ya ask.”

“What ye’ve seen most of thus far’re humans like Frank here an’ the squire,” Rourke pointed out. “Me, I’m a touch’a that an’ what’s called an’ Elf. Easy ta mistake me fer one'a them what with the pointy ears an' such, lest yer an elf yerself, they always seem ta spot me fer what I am.”

“Daoine Cloch,” Ogrham answered flatly before blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “The races'a man jus' call us Dwarves though.”

“So, what about Rictor’s sister, Sabine,” Amber asked.

“Tha’s a wee bit complicated,” Ogrham warned her with a stern look. “Best ta leave it be lassy.”

“C’mon, how bad can it be,” Amber pressed the issue. “Does she look like that because of some kind of mutation or magical accident or something?”

“Tiefling, since you are so curious about the issue.” Sabine herself spoke up as she walked into the camp, all present turning their gaze to the red skinned woman as she made her way towards the group with, a heavy air around her. “I am the product of a centuries old pact with demonic creatures and my ancestors in order to bolster their magical powers. Every few generations, seemingly at random, someone is born with a demonic appearance like mine. Red skin, eyes, horns, and in some cases even a tail. As you can imagine, my birth was the source of much gossip within my family’s circles. Thankfully Rictor was lucky as it skipped him and only settled upon me. He was not forced to live up to any of father's high standards, as he clearly lacked any magical aptitude."

She stopped midstride beside Amber and fixed a sharp stare on the mare. "I do hope that delving into my lineage has been enlightening for you."

"She didn't mean noth'in by it Sabine," Frank pleaded. "She ain't from around here after all, an' in 'er shoes I'd be right curious too."

Sabine continued to stare down at the mare who was clearly becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second. She finally turned her nose up at Amber and stomped off towards her tent. Once she was out of sight, the mare let out a long withheld breath. "Okay, that was a lot tenser than I thought it would be."

"Lassy's got'er reasons," Ogrham pointed out before leaning closer to the mare. "See, in order fer the demonic blood ta mix inta the line fer so many generations, the one what summoned the beasty would have had to offer a virgin from within the family. It isn’t some’thin tha any do willingly.”

Amber looked between Sabine’s tent and the now dead silent group. She could feel her stomach starting to turn at the thought of all of this new information running through her head. There have always been stories of Unicorn families that would arrange matches and marriages based on how much stronger their magic would be down the line from the pairing, but this was far beyond that. This was offering up one of their own children, and letting some monster from a dark unholy realm beyond imagining do Goddesses knows what to them. and All in the hopes of producing offspring of a higher caliber. How could someone do that to their own flesh and blood? It churned her stomach at the thought of such a callous and depraved act being performed on a loved one, but most of all she could feel the burn of shame for having pried so deeply into something so close to somepony’s heart.

“So, uh, where are we headed to next?” Amber asked with a nervous smile in hopes of changing the subject.

“Quant lil’ town called Red Fields,” Rourke told her with a forced smile. “Real nice place, think you’ll like it.”

Amber used her teeth to tighten the strap of her sword around her barrel, the weapon hanging across her back. It was her prize from the battle the night before and had helped see her through the fight. She smiled inwardly at the reassuring weight of the weapon as it filled her with a sense of some kind of security in this chaotic new world.

All around her the camp was being taken apart so that travel could continue. Since she possessed nothing but this sword, her work load was very light, giving her a bit of time to check on the others as they struck camp. Strolling across the grounds, she eventually found Rictor as he was in the middle of forcing the last of his equipment into his pack. Memories from the previous night began to fill her mind once more, along with a question that had been lingering for some time.

“Rictor, you got a second?” she asked, taking a seat on her haunches beside him.

“What can I do for you Lady Shine?” he replied with a small smile.

"I noticed everypony keeps calling you squire, why's that?"

"It's a silly reason," he told her, with a touch of unease. "You wouldn’t want to hear it."

"C'mon," she pleaded with a hopeful smile. "I won't laugh, I promise."

The young swordsman let a sigh before turning his attention fully to the mare. "Because I wear the tabard of the Silber Drache, Silver Dragons"

"Ooooooookay, next obvious question is, who're they?"

"They were a brotherhood of Paladins."

The pony nodded along with this information and seemed to take it at face value, until... "What's a Paladin?"

Rictor stopped his work and stared dumfounded at the bat mare as if she'd just asked what air was. "You've never heard of a Paladin?"

"It's almost like I've only recently woken up in a strange unfamiliar world with lands and cultures far removed from my own," she replied with no lacking to her sarcastic tone. "How about you educate me on the subject?"

"Well, Paladins are an order of knights. They keep to the code of chivalry and honor as handed down in the teachings of their patron god. The Silver Dragons worshiped the dragon god of justice and protection, Bahamut. In return for their loyalty they were granted a small fraction of his power."

"Okay, that's admittedly pretty impressive," Amber agreed. "So where does the nickname come from?"

"Because like any boy, I grew up wanting nothing more than to join their ranks," he said as a smile weakly tugged at the sides of his mouth.. "It was a dream that my father... my father supported. I had learned the basics of swordsmanship and divine magics." Suddenly, the smile faded from his face. "But dreams... dreams don't always come true."

He slung his pack over his shoulder and rose to leave without so much as another word. Amber watched as he avoided her gaze and trudged on to keep pace with the rest of the group, who were already moving. She could feel an icy lump plop itself down right at the center of her gut. Her ears fell to the sides of her head as an unsettling thought dawned upon her... that she just lost another possible friend.

At the crest of a hill, the forest finally gave way to wide open fields and sprawling farmland. In the distance a small collection of houses sat huddled together while plumes of smoke wisped their way from the stone chimneys. The air was filled with the sounds of people talking and the occasional odd farm animal bellowing out a call. From afar, the town seemed like a lovely little village that was nestled beside a babbling stream that encircled the town and ran parallel to a dirt road. Amber and her new travelling companions stood atop the hill that overlooked this tiny town.

A tingle of excitement shot through the mare's body at the thought of getting to see the tiny village up close. This was her chance to see this altogether alien culture up close and hopefully without somepony trying to cut her limbs off. With a happy giggle she started off towards the town as exciting possibilities played out in her head. Maybe she'd start by carousing whatever kind of market this place had, or more likely she'd go straight to the bar and see if she couldn't get somepony to buy the new girl in town a drink. Her thoughts and pace came a swift stop with a tug on her tail. She quickly shot her gaze back to eye the half elf holding it tightly in his hands and fixed him with a critical look.

"What gives," she loudly protested.

"Just a moment lass, we can't have ye run'in about town an' scare'in folks," he told her. "We're going ta disguise ye first, so's the locals can warm up to ye without torches an' pitchforks."

"I'm sorry, but what?" she asked with a deadpan stare.

"Perhaps you had yet to notice but equines in this plane of existence do not speak," Sabine informed her. "Nor do they have such unusual colors, wings jutting from their backs and most importantly, long pointy fangs. My dear, if we were to let you stroll happily down main street unattended the local populace may very well take up arms against the hellspawned pony in their midst."

Amber looked about at her companions for some kind of support on this issue but could see she'd be receiving none. "Ugh, fine, if it gets us into town I'll play along, but whatever you're planning it better be dignified. I'm a member of the Royal Equestrian Guard after all, I protect princesses and junk."

Amber's ears were flattened against her scalp and a glare was fixed straight ahead of her as she trotted into town with the rest of her new companions. A rope had been looped around her snout in a makeshift bridle with several supply packs had been strapped to her back. She followed close beside Rictor as he led her along the path towards the town. Quietly, the bat mare fumed with anger at this treatment. A trained-albeit low ranking-member of the Royal Guard was being used as a pack mule. Amber could barely stomach this treatment; she wanted to shout and scream at Rourke for making her into a pack animal. However she knew better than to make a scene. Not in public anyways. She made a mental note of various ways to thank Rourke for putting her through this.

Trying to find something other than blinding anger to focus herself on, Amber's eyes glanced about the town as they strolled through front gate. All around her more of these human creatures milled about with their day to day tasks, many of them carrying on conversations about everything from the war, the weather and the price of chickens. She was starting to suspect that this might be the dominant race in these lands. She wished deeply that she could interact with them, so that she might learn more about this place and what was going on in the world. But she had a sneaking suspicion that Rourke, while more than likely exaggerating, was not far off on how she would be received. The humans struck her as simple folk that lived out their lives according to whatever befell them at the time.

It was then that Amber noticed she wasn't the only one being forced to hide in plain sight. Sabine kept her long dark cloak tightly around herself and the deep hood pulled over her head to hide as much of herself as possible. She couldn't help but notice that the massive Frank kept a close pace beside her, a simple act that brought a subconscious smile to the mare's face.

Eventually their trek through town led them to a small two story building with a set of large windows on either side of the door. Displayed for all the world to see were baskets and trays of various plants, herbs and bottled concoctions. The closer they drew to it, the more Amber could smell the heavy scents of all these things that permeated the air with their thick aroma.

Rourke gave Rictor's side. "Go 'round back an' unload the supplies would ye lad."

"Right away sir," Ricor quickly replied before leading Amber around the building to the back door. He glanced around the area for a brief moment before unlocking the door and ushering the mare inside. "Sorry about, well, all of that."

"It's fine," Amber retorted after spitting the rope out of her mouth. "Not like I'm angry at you anyways."

They had gone from the streets to the dimly lit back room of the shop. It was a rather large room with rows upon rows of shelves that held a variety of plants and bottled ingredients. At the center of the room sat a low burning hearth that kept a pot of bubbling liquid warm. A few rays of sunlight managed to cut their way through the old grime encrusted windows that sat high upon the wall to reveal more of the room. The other thing about this place that Amber had to note was the large number of stools and ladders that were set up near or against many of the shelves.

"So, what's the deal with this place?" She asked.

"An alchemy shop called The Broken Bottle. It's owned by a friend of ours, Kriscaryn Fendlemarsh Silversliver, or Krissy for those who don't have the patience for gnomish names." Rictor replied while kneeling beside her and began to loosen the straps around her body and wings. "It's a sort of safe house for our little band."

Amber jumped in surprise when the young swordsman's hand brushed through the soft fur of her flank and gave him a mock glare. "Watch the hands buddy, most stallions are polite enough to treat me to a date before they go for my cutie mark like that."

Rictor's face became a bright red beacon of embarrassment as he pulled his hands away from her as quickly as he could while he cast his gaze away and to the ground. "I apologize. I was just trying to unload the packs."

Giggling, Amber nudged his chest with her wing while trying to meet his eyesight again. "Relax, I'm just teasing you."

Shooting her a forced glare of his own, he returned to his job of unpacking the part time pack horse. "So, what's this Cutie Mark thing?"

"You guys don't have that here?" Amber asked with surprise. "Well, to sum it up, it's this mark that magically shows up on a pony's flank when they discover what their talent is." She repositioned herself to show hers off to the squire so that he could see the image of broken shield that emblazoned her. She tried hard not to snicker when his face turned a deeper shade of crimson at her antics. Trying not to break into a fit of laughter she wiggled her rear near his face. "Do you see it, it's riiiiiiiiiight on the flank there."

"Y-yes, yes I see it," Rictor quickly replied while keeping his gaze on the wall to the side of him. "You can stop that now."

"You sure, I mean you're not even looking."

With an annoyed grunt, Rictor placed a hand against her midsection and nudged her hind quarters away from him. Amber easily lost her balance and tumbled to the ground. The thestral shook her head clear and quickly fixed her human companion with a devious grin before lunging towards him.

At the front of the shop sat a small rather bored looking humanoid. At least, she looked human for the most part. All of her limbs and body parts were well within their proper size. What set her apart, however, was the very small stature of this person. She stood maybe up to a grown man's waist, yet her face and form held no childlike properties to it, appearing to be those of a full grown woman’s. Her pale fair face was framed by several long strands of dull pink hair that managed to escape being pulled back into a bun with the rest of her hair. Unnaturally bright green eyes scanned over a roll of parchment that had been stretched across the counter in front of her. Her slight form was clad in a simple tunic that was already far too large for her, and thusly been turned into a makeshift dress. Her long pointed ears perked up when the bell over the front door chimed, her mood instantly shifted to one of joy and excitement when she saw her latest customers. "Rourke!"

"Krissy," he happily greeted her as the rest of his companions filed in behind him. "How are ye love?"

"Fine as always when friends stop by," she said with a smile. "Hold a tick, where's Rictor?" Her face shifted to a far more vengeful gaze, "If you an' your little trouncing got that boy killed Rourke..."

"Dearest Kriscaryn, if that had been the case he would be a pile of ash scattered to the winds right now," Sabine commented. "My brother took the back entrance in order to sort out our newest employ."

"New employ, ya can barely afford the ones ya have!" she scolded him causing the half elf to flinch away from her in response.

“Ta be fair, she ain’t been hired yet,” Rourke quickly defended.

"So who's this hire?"

As if on cue to answer her question a clatter rose up from the back room along with the sounds of giggling and rough housing. Soon, both Rictor and Amber came tumbling through the door and into the store front. The young man landed on top of the mare's back and pinned her stomach to the ground. He kept an arm against the back of her neck while both legs straddle her sides to keep her wings pinned against her. Though it looked rather painful the two of them were still laughing the entire time. The pair stopped their "horseplay" when they noticed that everyone's eyes were now on them.

“That’d be her,” Rourke said with a wry grin.

Sabine was never one to avoid socializing, however she knew that there was work to be done while they had the time to rest. She had volunteered to watch the storefront while her companions regaled Krissy with the story of their latest misadventures. The tiefling woman was more than knowledgeable enough in the uses and purposes of the potions, poultices and herbs that she could easily handle things on her own. Aside from the sounds of laughter and chatter coming from the backroom, she had more than enough peace and quiet to look over the notes they had taken from the keep. She poured herself over the information hidden in the mismatched pages and abandoned theories. The tiefling furrowed her brow and pursed her lips in concentration as she tried to will the answer to come to her.

Her deep studies were brought to a halt by the feeling of a weight coming to rest upon her shoulder. Following the hand to its source, she soon found the imposing figure of Frank standing over her with a warm and somewhat childish smile. Sabine couldn't help but smile back as she reached up and gave his large strong hand a squeeze. He set a cup upon the counter top beside her notes, in his massive hand it looked like a toy.

"Jus' thought ye could use a spot'a company, m'lady," he said bashfully.

Sabine took the cup with a grateful nod. "I am always happy for your companionship, Franklin."

Sabine took a moment to savor the scent of jasmine and various herbs rising from the warm cup of tea while pretending to have not noticed his smile double in size; or the fact that a deep gash of red spread through his cheeks. She regarded him for a moment as she sipped upon her drink. It always struck her as somewhat funny, most men and some women wore armor to not only protect themselves but at times to seem much larger. Without the protective plating encumbering him, Frank still seemed impossibly large and built to match. And yet he was gentle as a lamb and twice as timid.

"So, what's all these papers say anyways?" he asked leaning over her shoulder.

"They appear to me calculations of planar movements across the multiverse," she replied.

"Right, a'course," he agreed with a sagely nod. "So what's that mean?"

She stifled a giggle before replying. "It means that they were waiting for a plane of existence to pass close to ours, that way they could travel to with greater ease."

"Would explain 'ow we got our new friend, but why got to a world full'a talk'in tiny horses?"

"The notes give me little go on beyond one word that comes up from time to time, Alicorn."

"Alicorns," Frank said with a snort. "Those's jus' fairy tales, sorties fer lil tikes to hear when they're go'in to bed. No such thing."

"And yet we are sharing a roof with a pony bat hybrid," Sabine quickly reminded him. "Her world is clearly one that is far removed from our own, a world of talking equines, some of whom have evolved and mutated to posses the wings of bats. Who is to say what may or may not be real for her and her people?"

"S'why do ye think Accossta's look'in for one then? Do ye suppose they're gonna open some kind of zoo'er something?"

"Charming as that thought would be,” she replied with a grin. “But I highly doubt it. If even a fraction of their fabled power is true, then the empire stands to gain much with one of these creatures at their command."

“Not they’d need the power,” he commented sullenly. “Got an army’a mages at their beck’n’call, one’a them Alicorns’d be some nasty powerful overkill.”

“Overkill has always been Grand Magus Rengier’s style though.”

“Glad you’re here then m’lady, this sort’a think’in is far beyond my abilities.

Far from the heartlands of Drechsel and the farms of Red Fields, across the Broken Sea lays the nation of Accossta. Its capital, the city of Calad Caras, stretches from one end of the Broken Fang bay to the other. It was a massive sprawling city of gold and white polished stone nestled by the water and surrounded by tall jagged mountains and tall, strong walls encircling its perimeter. The setting sun glinted off the crystalline surface of the buildings turning it into one giant shining jewel by the sea.

At the heart of this city of light stood the Imperial Palace, standing tall upon the highest point in the city, protected by high strong walls and towers. Statues of Empire’s heroes lined the Emperor’s Road leading to the front gate of the castle. The palace itself was lined with tall polished pillars of stone that lined the walls draped with tapestries of red and white with the burning sun of Accossta emblazoned on them.

Within is a place that only the most elite of Accossta’s high society ever see: the royal gardens. A wide open indoor garden filled to bursting with various plants and foliage from across the globe. The magic that hangs thickly in the air helped to keep the assorted flora from withering and dying outside of their native climates and soil.

One of the few souls present in the garden stood admiring the multicolored petals of a particular batch of flowers. He was tall and slender in build and dressed in finely tailored red and gold silks, a man that had clearly seen very little in the ways of heavy work or fighting. Long raven hair was neatly combed back and from his thin somewhat gaunt face. His two most defining qualities however were the eerie glow of his perfectly blue eyes and his long pointed ears. He only took his attention off the budding nature before him when he heard the sound of footsteps upon the stone walkway that snaked through the garden.

"A report for you, your grace," a lone half elven servant girl informed his as she approached.

He regarded her briefly over his shoulder before motioning to her casually. "Proceed."

"My lord, it would appear that Grand Magus Rengier's expedition into what is left of Drechsel has yielded mixed results," she informed him. "Our agent reports that the artifact was found and the ritual was completed without difficulty. However, his forces were unsuccessful in retrieving the creature and the portal closed upon the Reaper's return to our plane."

"How unfortunate," he said calmly. "Father will not be pleased to hear that, He was so looking forward to having this Alicorn creature."

"Indeed my lord, however there is more to the missive," she continued. "While the fabled Alicorn was not captured, the Reaper did however return with another creature in tow. Some form of servant caste or common guard judging from the way she reportedly garbed and protected the Alicorn. She was taken to the outpost's dungeon for questioning whilst the Grand Magus and his forces left the outpost that night, bound for the capital. It would appear that the outpost was assaulted shortly after their departure."

"How fortunate of them," he said with a soft hint of sarcasm. "It would surely have been a tragedy had the Magus and his prize not escaped in time. And what of this creature?"

"We suspect it is in the hands of the rebels, sire."

"How unfortunate, I do hope those savages treat this being with a fraction of respect. It represents its entire race in a strange new world after all."

"So I said to him, Not with that little prick you aren't, and then I bucked him right between the legs," Amber said loudly before falling into a fit of laughter that was soon joined by the rest of the room.

The back area of Krissy's shop had been made more homely with the addition of more wood on the hearth. A fat roasted chicken had been cooked and set out upon the table to feed the weary guests. It had been seasoned to near perfection with chopped mint leaf, parsley, garlic and lemon along with a complement of potatoes, carrots and onions thrown into the pot as well. A collection of misshapen doughy biscuits that had been drizzled with honey and the leftover mint leaf had been served as well. Her stomach was weighed heavily with the first proper meal she'd received since coming to this strange world.

Ogrham had contributed to the small feast a cask of strong, fragrant ale that he affectionately referred to as Sacramental Brew-Amber had taken to simply calling it amazing. Every sip she took loosened every muscle in her body and drowned another inhibition that might have held her in check. She was quickly of the mind that if Dwarves ever made it to Equestria, they would put so many cider makers and breweries out of business selling something of even half the quality of this drink.

A happy warmth filled the mare's chest as she looked around the room. Beside her, Rictor sopped up what juices still remained in his bowl with a biscuit as he listened intently to the guardsmare's stories. His armor and gear had been set off to the side leaving him clad in a simple tunic and pair of slacks. Ogrham, still clad in his thick heavy plates of armor, reclined in his chair with the clatter of his wargear, which the dwarf clearly didn't seem to care or notice. He once again lit his pipe and began taking long draws of smoke into himself before releasing with a relaxed sigh. Across the room, a less armed and armored Rourke sat with a mug of Ogrham's beer in one hand and the other draped around Krissy's waist while she sat upon his leg. The short gnomish woman happily sipped upon her own mug of beer which looked almost comically large in her hands.

"And that's how I ended up getting busted down to glorified library monitor," she concluded her story.

"I'd say ye let 'em off easy, lass," Krissy chimed in with a happy giggle.

"Ye got quite a fire in ye lassy," the dwarf commented between puffs on his pipe. "Ye showed more than a bit’a promise dur’in that fight as well. Can’t say I’ve ever ‘eard of’a pon’eh fight’in like that. Could be useful, Rourke. Ye’d best not let’er get away.”

“Aye,” the half elf agreed. “So how ‘bout it guardswoman, feel like become’in a mercenary?”

She chewed slowly on a mouthful of potatoes in order to buy time while she turned this question over in her head. “Depends,” she finally said and leaned forward to meet him eye to eye. “What’s in it for me?”

A wry grin split Rourke’s mouth. “Oh, I’m start’in ta really like you, Shine. Fer starters, ye’ll have some folks ta protect yer back ‘round here. If ye ain’t noticed yet, things can get a wee bit rough out there. We’ll see to it that ye got some half decent gear ta keep ye alive an’ most importantly you’ll be paid.”

“How much?” she was quick to ask.

“Everyone gets equal shares,” Rourke answered just as quickly. “Everyone pulls their weight an’ we all get paid fer it.” He reached across the table to take the jug of powerful spirit they’d been draining and poured Amber a fresh tankard. “What’d ye say guardswoman?”

“So, you want me to give up on a year's worth of dedication to my country and Princesses and become a mercenary like all of you?”

“Well, if’in ye’d rather, ye can always start walk’in home,” he replied with a smug grin. “After hear'in that story 'bout the magical mirror an' such, I have few small doubts that you'll have an' easy time find'in it. Between the rebels, Accosstans and blood thirsty bandits look'in to have a good time in all this chaos, yer best bet is probably ta stay with us anyways."

Amber kept her eyes locked with Rourke's, neither of them budging or glancing away until the mare finally broke the silence. “I got one more question for ya then,” Amber said. She kept her predatory eyes locked tightly with Rourke’s, a sly smile pulled the edges of her mouth upwards as she reached over and took the tankard in her hooves. “How much did that Fort job earn me?”

Last Call

Rain fell in sheets upon the wooden roof and sent a crescendo of pattering water echoing throughout the tavern. The small crowd of people gathered inside spoke and chattered away until their voices drowned out the storm outside. A warm fire at the far end of the building spilled warmth and extra light into the room with the aid of candles placed throughout upon wall sconces. Hints of smoke filled the air and mingled with the smell of various heavy drinks and spirits that the serving staff carried from table to table. In a corner of the bar stood a young woman with deep red hair that strummed away at the lute in her hands, softly singing to her own melody. While the majority of the patrons were clearly local farmers and the occasional merchant, a group of six stood out from the crowd.

Amber and her new companions had taken up residence at a table at the far end of the barroom. The mare’s haunches were seated upon one of the old wooden chairs that were clearly never meant for a pony’s flank. She shifted about trying to find a more comfortable way to sit at the table with the others, but her new attire made things a little harder.

A shirt of metal links was now draped over and strapped against her body, with a dull grey woolen shirt underneath, keeping the chain mail from tearing into her fur. She was thankful for the hood of her undershirt which she kept pulled up over her head; a simple disguise, but it stemmed the number of awkward stares she knew she’d be getting. Two pairs of metal bracers had been fitted around her fore and hind legs near her hooves while her sword still sat strapped to her back between her wings. She was impressed by Frank’s skill with a hammer and anvil, as the majority of her day was spent getting fitted with the protective gear. What really impressed her was how he’d managed to work slits into the back for her wings, something that even the most adept of pony artisans usually had difficulty with. Despite being mostly fitted to her unique body type she still found herself shifting about her in seat as she struggled to get comfortable with the heavier weight.

“Sit still, damn ye,” Ogrham had scolded her. “Ye act’in like ye nev’a worn bloody armor before.”

“Sorry, just getting used to wearing something this heavy,” the thestral replied.

“Not too heavy is it,” Frank asked with a touch of worry. “Tried ta make it as light as I could for ye with all the fly’in an’ such. I could refit it if ye need it.”

“No, no, no,” Amber quickly replied. “It fits just fine, Frank I’m just more used to the stuff they issued us back in the Night Guard. More magically enhanced.”

"Tell ye what: find use someone what makes bardin’ fer fly'in ponies an' we'll fit the bill," Rourke chuckled in response.

All around the table, Amber and her new comrades continued to chat happily and outright enjoy one another's company. The mare sipped on a tankard of ale that had been seasoned with a touch of cinnamon and wild berries while she and Rictor talked at length about the various noteworthy locations in Equestria. Ogrham, as always when there was time to relax and drink, was puffing out thick clouds of smoke from his pipe like a doting father watching over his children. Sabine contently sipped upon a glass of deep red wine while leaning herself against the hulking form of Frank seated beside her. The large man merely smiled awkwardly and pretended not to be aware of the flecks of red that burned in his cheeks. And through all of this, Rourke sat at the head of the table with his back to the wall and his sharpened gaze set upon the front door.

The entire tavern went silent for a moment when six men came in from the pouring rain. They were clad in rough and worn armor that was in various states of disrepair and mistreatment. Each man had a sword that hung from his side and a badge upon their breast that displayed the shining sun symbol of Acosta. All eyes in the tavern were upon them the moment they entered but when they headed towards a table most seemed to relax and return to their business. There was still a hint of tension in the air and it was especially felt at the table of Rourke and his mercenaries.

"Damn," Ogrham grumbled. "That'll complicate things."

"How complicated we talking?" Amber asked.

"Those four're Acostan Peacekeepers," the dwarf replied. "We're 'sposed ta be meet'in a rebel contact 'bout get'in paid fer that last job, so add it up pon'eh."

"Peacekeepers," Frank grumbled with a surprising hint of anger in his voice. "Not a damn thing those bastards have t’ do with peace; noth'in but bandits wit' badges is what they are. I hate bandits."

"Won't be no trouble s'long as we don't draw attention," Rourke cautioned them. "Keep yer heads down an' business ta yerselves, especially you Shine."

"What'd I do?"

"Not what ye did, what ye could do," the half-elf pointed out. "Not exactly the easiest person ta hide, so just keep yer head down an' nose in that tankard, ye got that?"

No sooner had he given her this order had the front door of the bar opened once again to admit one more seeking refuge from the downpour. He was clad in heavy grey robes that were soaked through and through; however, the deep hood remained pulled up and hid his face. The man appeared to be hunched over and walked with a limp as he made for the bar.

"Right on time," Rourke quietly praised. "Now, like I said, heads down an' mind yer own business, got it?" He didn't wait around for a response as he made for the bar where he sidled up beside the mysterious robed man. He fished a few gold coins from his pouch and let them clink upon the countertop while nodding towards the bartender. "Oi, round for me an' my friend here."

The hooded man glanced towards Rourke while keeping his head down. "Wonderful weather today," he said in a low voice.

"Maybe we'll go fish'in," the half-elf replied. Beneath the bar, a small bag packed with gold coins was passed into Rourke's open hand and was quickly slipped into his coat's inner pockets with muffled clink.

"We have more work for your team," the robed man said.

"Fine by me, but our rates've recently gone up," Rourke replied as he watched the bartender pour the pair a glass of whiskey.

"Mr. Rourke, are you trying to extort the Drechsel army?"

"Of course not," he assured him with a wry grin as he sipped on the hard liquor in front of him. "You lot couldn't afford my extortion prices. See, our little famly's grown as of late, got a new mouth ta feed an' she's gonna need an allowance here pretty soon."

"So, what's the story with those Peacekeeper guys," Amber asked in a low hushed tone. "Why's everypony so tense about them?"

"Peacekeepers ‘police’ the fringes of Acostan territories," Sabine informed her. "They’re usually recruited from among the locals of the area, the majority of whom already having a long standing history of keeping the people of the area under their control. Which means that the majority of their number tend to be members of either gangs or raiding parties that people already rightly know to fear."

"That's insane," Amber said with a scoff. "They're letting criminals dictate the law?"

"When the other option is, "Or we kill your entire line from every man woman and child," the prospect of being Acosta's puppet starts to look a bit better," Sabine said. "That little clause helps ensure they follow the majority of the rules as well."

"Bunch'a bloodthirsty thugs," Frank grumbled. "Ain't no business be'in called lawmen."

"Like Rourke said, jus' keep yer 'eads down an' don't draw attention," Ogrham reminded them with a snort.

"Right, how much attention could a table of five armed mercenaries draw?" Amber snidely asked.

As if to respond to her question, the troupe of Peacekeepers started to loudly talk and laugh amongst themselves. They appeared, for the most part, to be more occupied with their tankards of ale and stories that tried hard to one up the last one told. One of them took a few coins out of his pouch and waved the minstrel over to their table, a trip that she very reluctantly made.

"See these coins," he asked her. "You're gonna play fer me an' my mates for the rest of the night, got that?"

"Y-yes m'lord," she replied nervously. "What would you like me to play?"

"With my cock fer starters," he said with a wry grin and a pause to let his companions get all the laughter out of their system. "For now though, you're gonna play some proper Imperial music, none'a that Drechsel shit."

“What would you like me to play m’lord?”

“The Fall of Stone Hall,” he said loudly while shooting the angry glances from the crowd a cocksure grin.

“I can’t play that song, m’lord.”

“An’ why not,” he asked her with a clear hint of annoyance in his voice.

“W-well, I’m mostly familiar with the local songs, ones I’ve grown up learn’in to play sir,” she replied, her voice slightly shaky. “Perhaps I could entertain you with another song.”

“Can you believe this shit?” he asked his companions. “We give this little cunt more gold then she’s ever going to make in this town an’ she can’t even give us the one song we wanna hear.”

“Don’t worry sir, I know how the song goes,” one of them assured the leader of the group while getting to his feet.

“Good man, Sanders,” he praised him. “Educate the poor girl, would you?”

"Wit’ pleasure," the man named Sanders said with a chuckle. He stepped closer and the girl continued to shrink away from him. "Most important thing 'bout the song is 'ow ye stand when ye play'in an' sing'in it, otherwise folks can't hear what ye say'in. Go on girl, show us 'ow ye play a song."

Though clearly frightened, she hesitantly obeyed and let her body fall into the practiced positions she'd used for years. "Stop," the order made her flinch. "Already ye do'in it wrong ye twat, ain't no one ev'a teach ye 'ow ta play proper before?"

He roughly grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her away from the wall. When the rest of the patrons shifted in their seats as if to rise his companions turned to face them with hands upon their weapons. When no one fulfilled this challenge, he went back to his "work", placing himself behind the whimpering girl on the verge of tears.

"Ye stance is all wrong," he growled close to her ear. His hands roughly took her arms and moved them to what he believed the proper placement to be.

Amber could feel her entire body reaching out for her sword without having given it any kind of command.

"Ye need to keep yer legs apart more," as he said this his grip shifted from her wrists to her thighs. Grabbing her through her old faded skirt, he started roughly parting her legs apart. When shaken young lady tried to resist it only caused him to tighten his grip in promise of something worse.

This has to stop, she thought to herself, somepony has to stop this! Rourke’s warning from before stayed her hoof and only served to pen her rage all the more. She was a stranger here - this was something that the local law should be taking care of...but that it was the so-called ‘stallion of the law’ that was committing the crime!

Furthermore, as she looked around the mare realized that most of the inn’s patrons were all farmers, and that most of them were afraid. What good would they do against armed men? Even with numbers there was a good chance that more than a few of them would get cut down before finally stopping these “Peacekeepers”. Fear stayed their hands and feet while rage and hate screamed at Amber to step in.

"Now, ye gotta sing from the diaphragm see," Sanders whispered in a gruff voice, his lingering digits taking their time to move down the front of her body until they cupped her about the breasts.

"ENOUGH!" Rictor roared as he quickly rose to his feet and sent his chair tumbling across the floor, his hand rested upon the hilt of his sword. "Take your hands off her, now!"

In the span of a second, the other five Peacekeepers were on their feet, their hands hovering dangerously close to the hilts of their swords. Sanders tightened his grip on the tearful bard and turned her into a human shield between himself and Rictor. The young knight wasn’t alone however, as the members of his own troupe quickly took to their feet in a similar show of strength, Amber especially taking position beside him. All around them the now startled patrons of the bar began hurrying towards the door in fear of getting caught in the middle of the fight.

"This wee pup's got some teeth, lads," the leader said with a snicker. "This your woman boy? You want 'er little cunny back? You an' your friends might wanna back down before things get bloody."

“The only one's about to get bloodied are you assholes," Amber barked at them with her wings flaring out from her sides. "Let the girl go and walk away before your face becomes my new hoof warmer."

"The fuck is that thing!?" one of the Peacekeepers shouted.

"Looks like some kinda mutant gnome," another commented.

"Shut your mouths," their leader snapped at them. "An' you lot just sit the fuck back down."

"Not until you release the girl," Rictor hissed at them. "Remove your hands from her before I cut them off!"

“This lot looks pretty well armed ta be in a farm town,” one of the Peacekeepers commented. “Probably some’a them rebels.”

“We’re sellswords,” Rourke said from his place alone at the bar with his back to the room while he continued to sip on his glass of amber shaded liquor. “Ye shouldn’t pay the boy much mind, know how the youthful can be, all fire an’ no sense. An' the girl, well, still break'in 'er in, gotta still learn'in.”

“That so,” the head Peacekeeper said with a snort as he crossed the room to stand behind Rourke. "Both'a them still threatened us, what do you plan ta do about this?"

"Ye got a good point, mate," Rourke said with a happy chirp as he turned to face the irate officer. "What say we discipline the pair in our own way, you let that poor lass go 'bout 'er night an' then we all go our separate ways?"

The man seems to turn this over in his head for a moment, face contorting in thought while he looked between Rourke and the others. "We keep our coins."

"Take 'em all back with my blessing," Rourke replied with a smirk and his hand offered to the man. "Deal?"

The man was hesitant, staring at the half-elf's hand for a moment while visibly turning this idea over in his mind. All around the room, tension and tempers continued to flair while hands hovered close to their weapons. Rictor especially as he glared into the eyes of his opponent just beyond the increasingly frightened young woman. Amber lowered herself into a stance ready to pounce with her fangs bared and wings spread wide from her sides.

"Deal," he finally replied and took Rourke's hand in his with a firm grip.

Relief spread out through the room when they reached an accord. Both sides began backing off and returning to their respective corners of the bar. The man known as Sanders roughly shoved the woman away from himself and into Rictor. The still weeping and trembling girl clung to the squire's tabard and buried her face against his chest while he awkwardly guided her out of their reach.

“Run along now little girl,” Sanders said in a teasing tone. “Maybe I’ll pay ye a visit later, show ye what a real man’s cock feels like.”

Anger swelled up anew in Rictor’s chest when he heard those words; every fiber in his body screamed at him to draw his sword and end this repugnant man’s life. But before anything could be done, a blonde and blue blur darted past him and straight at Sanders. Amber’s metal clad hoof slammed into the brigand’s stomach with all the force she could afford. He was knocked from his feet with a painful gasp and crashed into the table behind him with a loud clatter of broken wood and tumbled tankards.

“Shit,” Rourke hissed.

A single second turned into an eternity the moment the guardsmare made her move. Shock and disbelief stayed everyone’s hands and slowed the world around them all before absolute chaos exploded.

With a quick motion of his deft hands, Rourke grabbed a bottle that had been left upon the bar. Still in mid handshake with the lead Peacekeeper, the half-elf tugged him forward and into the oncoming blunt object. A common misconception is that a bottle breaks when you hit someone with it. The truth is, however, that they’re a lot more solid than that and the man before Rourke was learning this first hand. The makeshift cudgel cracked him across the jaw with the sound of shattering bone followed by a spray of blood and several teeth that scattered across the room. He brought the weapon back and slammed it squarely into the front of his face with a loud wet THUMP and let it drop from his hand when the man fell to his knees. Rourke quickly drew a dagger from within his coat and plunged the blade into the side of his opponent’s neck, sending him to the floor gurgling and gasping as blood filled his lungs.

All around Amber the crooked lawmen drew their swords and were about to set upon the mare until her companions rushed in to defense. Using this to her advantage, she darted from the center of the group with a quick flap of her wings. The long thin digits of her wings made for excellent makeshift hands as one drew the sword from the sheath upon her back while her powerful jaws took the hilt in her mouth.

She had just taken a stance when one of the Peacekeepers rushed from the crowd with his sword raised over his head to strike the mare. She rushed forward to meet him halfway and quickly regretted it. The moment their blades met in mid-swing the vibrations sent from the blades striking sent a painful jolt through her mouth and into the back of her head. She stumbled away from him and instead began to just dart and dodge around the swings, their sloppy and haphazard nature made it all the easier for her to avoid being struck. Rolling below another blow she came to her hooves with the distance closed, and with a swift jerk of her head, the blade of her sword cut through the weak leather of his pants and tore apart the flesh and muscles of the limb. As he tumbled to one knee she swiftly brought the weapon back around and jammed it through his back and out through his chest. With another swift motion, she yanked the blade from his back and let him fall to the floor in a growing pool of blood.

A loud shout caught her attention as another man rushed towards her with his weapon at the ready. However, as he approached striking distance he was hefted from his feet. Behind him, Frank hoisted the man easily off the ground and high over his head. With all the massive strength behind his muscle-laden body, Frank slammed his opponent’s head into one of the overhead beams and then threw his motionless form to the ground. Amber could feel her stomach lurch a bit when she saw the way his forehead had been dented inwardly with a stream of blood pouring from the various holes of his head.

Ogrham was loudly making sure everyone in the room knew how much he was enjoying this brawl. Laughter and taunts streamed from the dwarf as he faced his armed foe with nothing but his tankard of ale. "What's the matter laddy, can ye even hit me with that wee metal tadger!" The dwarf slurred as he threw back a healthy mouthful of spirit while kicking a chair into the man's path giving him yet another reason to chuckle.

His fun was cut short when a rush of cold air rushed from the back of the room. The man barely managed a pained last gasp as a beam of magical energy lanced into his body. From the point of origin rime began to form and spread out across his body. He fell to his knees shivering and convulsing as his body was wracked by the overwhelming cold that was forced into his body. Sabine slowly strolled through the chaos with shimmering flecks of magical residue sparkling about her fingers. She shot the swarthy dwarf a rueful glare while she leveled her hand with the side of the weakened man's head.

"Telum Magicum," she said in a commanding voice and a bolt of magical energy blasted out from her fingers and speared through his skull. A splatter of blood and burnt flesh scattered across the tavern floor from the burst of magical energy. She gave the dwarf one last angry glare before returning to the rest of the fight.

"Hrmph, spoilsport," Ogrham grumbled with a snort.

Steel struck steel as Rictor met the Peacekeeper before him sword in hand. His opponent’s strikes were sloppy, untrained and random while the squire’s were practiced and focused. Rictor kept himself just out of reach of the man’s attacks while knocking away any that came close to hitting him. With a quick slash and a roll of his wrist the young swordsman knocked the blade out of his path before he drove the blade deep into his opponent’s chest. With the dying chaos around him, Rictor took notice of the final Peacekeeper stumbling out the tavern’s front door holding his chest where the irate batmare had struck him.

“Runner,” Rictor quickly called out before taking off after him.

Rictor barreled out the door in hopes of catching the man only to find him already atop a horse and riding at full speed. Sabine brushed past his shoulder and began weaving her will upon the aether around her calling shimmering energy to the tips of her fingers. With a quick motion towards the escaping man she shouted, “Fulmen Ignem,” in command and sent a spear of fire through the rainy air. It struck the horse along its underbelly and sent the unfortunate creature crumbling into a sea of mud and gore. Its rider was sent hurtling through the air when his stead was suddenly removed from under him. He hit the ground roughly with a loud shriek as several bones snapped with a loud crack upon impact.

The rest of the team finally piled out of the bar and into the storm. Rourke roughly pushed his way past the rest of his companions and grabbed Amber by the back of her collar. Caught off guard she half heartedly struggled against the man’s grip on the back of her armor. With a shove from the half-elf she stumbled forward in the uneasy gooey ground and fell face first into the mud.

She could feel her stomach twisting to the point where she was about to lose the contents within when she opened her eyes. The mare was now face to face with the pained expression of the twisted man writhing in pain. She was awash in a mixture of blood and muck with the mangled remains of the horse right beside her.

“Please… please… don’t…” the broken man begged through his wheezing.

Amber turned her attention towards him just in time to see Rourke force his knee into the man’s back and pin him to the muddy ground. He showed no hesitation as he pressed his dagger to the man’s throat and began dragging a deep red line across it. Gurgling and gasping, he fought for air but the only thing his lungs could draw in was a lungful of blood. For a moment he convulsed and shook as his eyes glassed over and his body went limp.

Getting to his feet, Rourke glared down at the mare while cleaned off his dagger before looking to the rest of the team, “Get yer gear,” he commanded them. “We got our next job."

"Rourke," a gruff angry voice split the sound of falling rain and made the man flinch. Standing behind him was a tall aged man, his features behind a long deep grey beard. Dark angry eyes peered out from beneath a wide brimmed hat while the rest of him was draped in a long brown duster. Flanking him on either side was a pair of tall strong men with drawn swords. "We need words, son."

"O’course, Sheriff Thornbrook," Rourke chimed with a forced smile. "Ogrham, be a peach an’ get the cart ready, I'll meet ye lot on the road out'a town."

The sun had finally pushed its way past the dying storm clouds and shone its light upon the dampened land. Sunlight glinted off the wet grass and leaves of the scant few trees along the muddy road leading south out of the village of Red Fields. A warm wind blew through the valley and did its part to start drying up the mess left behind by the torrents of rain that had fallen earlier. Along the road trudged Rourke with a pack of supplies and the hood of his coat pulled up over his head to block the sun from his eyes.

Glancing past the hem of his hood he saw the old wooden cart parked at the side of the road with a ragged donkey hitched to it. His companions were seated upon it and eyed the half-elf and the deep bruise he now sported around his left eye. There was an awkward silence that hung around them as they watched him silently approach and throw his pack into the cart bed with all the others.

“We’re headed south,” Rourke told them flatly as he tossed his gear into the back of the cart. “Rictor, Shine, walk ahead’a us would ye?”

The mare gave him a look of disdain and unease only to be met with Rourke's own icy glare. Her mouth twisted as if to say something but a gentle hand on the back of her neck made her stop. Glancing over her shoulder she peered up at Rictor, a look of concern in his face. Nodding in agreement with the young man she hopped off the cart alongside him.

"C'mon, we got a lot'a ground ta cover," Rourke said to the others. "We wanna be halfway ta Crestfall before we camp."

Up ahead of the small caravan, Amber and Rictor kept a steady march, their attentions on the surroundings. There was a slightly uncomfortable silence between the pair of them, yet the mare's radiating anger was aimed back at the half-elf. It soon became far too much for Amber to keep bottled up inside of herself.

"Why," she hissed. "We had those guys beat, why go out of his way to kill that man."

"He went too far with it," Rictor agreed. "In his own twisted way though, I think he did it to protect Red Fields."

"Slitting that man's throat protects the town how?"

"You saw for yourself back at the tavern, Red Fields has mostly farmers and the occasional merchant. If any of those men had escaped and returned to superiors they could've returned with a contingent and leveled the whole place. All they'd have to do is claim they found some kind of rebel influence or faction residing there. I don't agree with what he did... but I know why he did it."

The young squire gave the mare a sad mournful stare. "He shouldn't have made you watch either."

Amber trotted beside Rictor in silence for some time. Her mind still turning over the events back in town. The glazed over eyes of the man drowning in his own blood and the cold glare of Rourke standing over her. She shut her eyes tightly and forced the thoughts back from the fore front of her mind.

The mare cast her gaze up at her companion and stared at him sadly. "Rictor, you don't seem like the rest of these guys, why are you even here?"

"My sister and I owe Rourke and Ogrham our lives," he replied. "It's a debt of honor."

"Honor bound to a man without honor," Amber pointed out. "That seems a bit counterproductive doesn't it?"

"His ethics are questionable," Rictor agreed. "But there is a kind of honor that guides him, I've seen it from time to time."

Yet another lengthy silence filled the gap between them for a time before the mare’s curiosity forced her to break through it. "How'd you and your sister end up working for him anyways?"

"It's a bit of a long story," he warned her.

"Yeah, I guess we could just walk for hours on end in complete silence instead," Amber quipped with a smirk. "C'mon, I wanna hear this."

"And if I refuse to tell it?" Rictor asked with a chuckle.

"Then I'll just have to pester you the whole trip."

"If I must."

"You must, you must."

"Six years ago, when Sabine was no older than I am now and I was but a child, she was a cadet of the Acostan battle mages and I was a hopeful squire trying to earn service to a knight. We both found ourselves following the army when it marched off to war with Drechsel. However, Sabine soon saw the dark lengths our leaders were willing to go to in order to win the war. So one night she spirited us both away. We couldn't return home as it'd be the first place they would look. We'd be tried as deserters and executed for sure."

"They'd put children to death?" Amber asked with shortage of disgust and disapproval in her voice.

"We were technically soldiers and a part of the Acostan army," he told her. "What we did was considered treason."

"That's still disgusting," Amber hissed.

"Well, this plan didn't go as well as planned however and we found ourselves set upon by cutthroats. What limited magic my sister had at the time served to keep them at bay for a time, but she was soon exhausted. So I, only ten years of age and barely able to hold a man's weapon, picked up the sword we'd stolen during our escape and tried to fight them off. "

"So very brave," Amber commented with a glow of approval. "How many did you beat, ten, twenty?"

"None," Rictor replied with a grin. "They took the sword from me and proceeded to beat and kick me as though I’d just stolen a loaf of bread from them."

Amber flinched at the answer to her question. "Ouch, well, next time you're telling it to a mare, talk about how you won the fight, try and impress her ya know."

"I'll keep that in mind," Rictor replied with a chuckle. "Well, eventually they were ready to just kill me, it was around that time one of Rourke's arrows buried itself in one of their necks just before Ogrham came roaring from the bushes. Needless to say, untrained bandits faired very poorly against a dwarven battle priest and an archer hiding in the woods.

"After that, they took us in, mended our wounds and fed our empty bellies. Since we couldn't return home without being arrested or possibly executed we chose to stay with them. Sabine's magic made her invaluable to the team and when I became old enough I joined them in the field as well. It's not always honest work but I continue to adhere to the code of chivalry, even when it puts me at odds with Rourke."

"I'm starting to see why they call you a squire," she said with a soft smile for the young man. "Somepony like you doesn't belong out here living like a mercenary; you should be in a palace somewhere protecting a princess or something like that."

Rictor gave her a faint smile. "Aye, maybe one day. So, how did you become a guardswoman?"

"I grew up hearing all these stories about my uncle and his adventures as a member of the Night Guard," Amber said with a wide smile on her face. "Couple that with my love of comic books and well, let's just say that I would've gone insane if I'd kept my part time job at Barnyard Bargains."

"I take it from the other night's stories that things didn't work out so well."

"Pfft, you could say that again," Amber grumbled. "Almost the same day I graduated basic training these six mares ended up getting some kind of magical super powers. Now they go around mopping up any and all problems around Equestria. I mean, one of them even became an alicorn. She became an alicorn. How does somepony even do that? Go from unicorn of impressive power to super powerful princess with earth-shattering magical power?"

"Don't get me wrong," she quickly added. "I mean, they do good work and I've even met a few of them: real stand up girls, nothing personal against any of them. But, I mean, it's like the universe was going out of its way to make sure that they were right there for all the most important moments in recent history. And believe me, there have been a few."

"Such as?"

"Let's see, there was the return of our exiled princess Luna who came back as Nightmare Moon and tried to blot out the sun forever. They blasted her back to normal in the span of one night. There was the changeling invasion of our capital city of Canterlot. That only lasted like an hour tops, but at least I got to fight somepony when they tried to push into the catacombs where we thestrals set up shop. Then there was the magical return of the Crystal Empire and it's despot ruler, I heard they helped crush that one in a day. Then there was the return of the dreaded Lord Tirek who went around gobbling up all the magic in Equestria and destroying everything in his wake. I actually got to watch that fight play out and it was actually pretty awesome. They’ve even stopped the avatar of chaos itself and then rehabilitated him into a good guy!”

"They sound like women of great renown," Rictor admitted.

"Yeah, I guess we've got some pretty cool heroes back home," Amber replied with a proud smirk.

Ogrham hoisted himself up and onto the driver's seat of the cart and took the reins in his metal clad hands. With a quick whip of the leather straps the beast of burden began to lumber forward. As their small caravan started to slowly move, Rourke pulled himself up onto the cart beside the dwarf.

"The lass looks ta be right pissed with ye," Ogrham said.

"Let 'er be," Rourke replied sharply. "She either learns how things work or she learns ta fend fer herself."

"They all think ye went too far with yer lesson."

"An' how far do ye think the Imperials would'a gone if he'd managed ta crawl back home?" Rourke asked him. "Not ‘bout ta let Red Fields get razed ta spare’er feel’ins.”

"Speak'in of, take it things went well with Thornbrook," Ogrham said with a snort.

"The good sheriff feels it'd be best if we didn't come back ta town fer a while," he replied. "I found m'self persuaded to agree with him on this matter."

"An' Krissy?"

"She was... understanding of the situation," he said with a frown.

"She's the one what gave ye the shinner ain't she," the dwarf asked with a smirk.

Rourke pulled his hood further down to hide the shame in his face. "Aye..."

As he'd expected, his stout companion erupted into a hail of boisterous laughter that nearly caused him to lose control of the wagon. He flinched when the wide, heavy hand of his companion landed squarely upon his back with nearly enough force to throw him from the cart. Grumbling several choice words in dwarf, Rourke turned his attention away from him.

"Bah, don't be such'a bab'eh 'bout it," the dwarf chided him. "Serves ye right though, fallin’ fer one'a them fey girls, can't predict 'em I always say. Shoulda jus' stayed with that nice girl from the Rockfist clan that was sweet on ye."

"Not a fan of’a woman that can lift me over ‘er head," Rourke shot back. "’Sides, I like Krissy - she's a sweet wee lass who puts up with my shenanigans."

“Ye ain’t right boy,” Ogrham said with a shake of his head. “So, besides gettin’ tossed outta Red Fields, what’s takin’ oos all the way ta Crestfall?”

“Our ol’ friends in the rebel ranks’ve asked us ta check on the town,” Rourke told him. “One’a their spies heard ‘som’thin’ ‘bout an’ Imperial missave that mentioned the place.”

“Bah, job sounds too borin’ fer our lot,” Ogrham said dejectedly.

“After what happened today I’ll take whatever job gets us out’a Redfields fer’a time,” Rourke said with a chuckle.

“S’long’s the pay’s good.”

“Pay’s gonna be good,” Rourke assured him. “Pay’s gonna be plenty good.”

Crestfall

A small smirk moved across the face of the tall, raven-haired elven man as he strode confidently through the ornate halls of the palace. Ahead of him a pair of knights in full Imperial regalia snapped to attention and removed themselves from his path. He didn't even give them a second glance as he pushed open the large double doors that sat in his way and entered the throne room.

It was a wide, open chamber that stretched on for almost an eternity; the lofty, vaulted ceilings of this lavished assembly room raised three stories into the air. Polished marble pillars lined the path towards the throne itself which sat upon a tall raised dais. All along the pillars and walls hung various tapestries of Imperial lore and might while large ornate windows cast sunlight into the room to push away the darkness with the aid of several braziers that currently sat unlit. Normally this room would host hundreds that came seeking audience with their emperor; today it only hosted two others.

Sitting upon the throne was another elf though this one showed the tell-tale signs of age. A number of wrinkles had taken form along the crevices of his face and began to pull and sag his face beneath his eyes. His deep, silvered hair showed hints of a head once fully pitch-black as several strands still fought hard to keep their original color; it was wreathed by a crown of silver and gold lined with fiery jewels that glinted in the afternoon light. In spite of his long red and white flowing robes there were hints of a past spent in struggle and strength but those days were slipping away. Despite these ravages of time, his eyes were still a harsh, piercing blue that shone with a dim glow.

At the foot of the dais was a human clad in heavy, ragged robes of grey. Time had been far less kind to this man as he stood hunched over and leaning against a staff of obsidian and ebony. His face was heavily pitted with deep, stretching wrinkles and a long white beard that had thinned almost as much as what little hair was still atop his head. Scurrying about at his feet were a pair of warty, impish creatures that carried a variety of books and scrolls between themselves.

"Father, Grand Magus Rengier," he joyfully greeted them with a smile as he approached. "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Prince Aidur," the withered man said in a wheezing tone and a bow of his head in greeting.

"Son," the Emperor curtly acknowledged him. "I do not recall summoning you."

"Forgive me father," Laeroth replied with a smirk. "But when I heard that the Grand Magus was going to be presenting you with his latest finds, I just had to be there and see."

Rengier fixed a stern gaze upon the young man. "No doubt on behest of one of your little songbirds."

Aidur did his best to appear overly shocked and offended by this. "Grand Magus, are you accusing me, crown prince of the Acostan throne, son of the noble Emperor Valannthor Mithtinal, ruler of all of Acosta, of spying?" A smirk quickly split his facade. "Of course I've been spying on you, just as I know you spy on me."

"I do not appreciate having your eyes constantly over my shoulders," the old man snapped at him.

"I only act in the interest of the Empire."

"You only act for yourself."

"Enough," Valannthor's voice echoed throughout the room. "Squabble and peck at one another on your own damned time." The pair quickly quieted down and bowed their heads in reverence to him. "The boy would have learned of this meeting before sundown; his presence only serves to speed the process. Now, proceed, Grand Magus."

"Of course, your majesty," he said with a far more humbled voice and a bow of his head. With a motion of his hand, the imps at his feet quickly jumped into action, one of them grabbed a thick tome from his companion's back and then scrabbled atop him to hold the thick book open at eye level with Rengier. "My expedition into Drechsel has born mixed fruit, it would seem. We were able to secure the artifact and successfully cast the ritual needed to open the gateway. According to a report given by the Reaper agent we sent through, this particular plane must be the one spoken of in legend."

"And what makes you so sure of this?" Valannthor asked with a stone faced stare.

"During his reconnaissance he found an alicorn," Rengier said with no shortage of reverence at the mention of the name.

To this the Emperor's brow raised and his statuesque persona began to crack. "An alicorn? He found the fabled guardian of magic? Where is it now?"

"Yes, Grand Magus," Aidur chimed in with a hungry grin. "Where is the legendary alicorn now?"

The ancient magus shot his prince a quick glare before humbling himself before the Emperor yet again. "It would appear there was a...complication."

"Explain," the Emperor commanded with a strong hint of restrained anger.

"She was guarded, your grace," Rengier began to explain. "According to the report, the Reaper agent encountered armed resistance when he attempted to secure the alicorn and return through the portal with it. He sustained several injuries during his retreat before being followed through the portal by one of these equine guards. The spell, as I mentioned in my reports, was designed to close the gateway upon return in order to prevent pursuit or possible invasion from a hostile plane."

"You're glossing over one of the best parts, old man," Aidur merrily chimed. "While the alicorn was lost, father, the Reaper did not, however, return empty-handed. One of the guards he encountered wrestled him through the portal causing the spell's trigger to shut off the gateway."

"Y-yes, that would be correct, my prince," the old man hesitantly confirmed. "He was followed by yet another creature of forgotten legend."

"And this creature was?" the Emperor asked with a slight rise of annoyance in his voice.

"Its equine appearance and bat like appendages lead me to believe that the creature was in fact a thestral, your grace."

"A thestral," Valannthor asked with a small touch of amusement. "A monster that we tell our children stalks the night to feed on the flesh of the disobedient, guarding a sacred creature gifted with the blood of the gods?"

"As blasphemous as it may sound, your majesty, what I beheld exiting the portal could be no other creature."

"And where is this thestral now?"

"It appears to have escaped during a surprise raid by rebel forces," Rengier admitted sadly which caused Valannthor's expression to clearly darken. "The artifact, however, I am pleased to report is safely secured within my laboratory, my liege. Moments after the gateway was sealed I quickly made arrangements to have it spirited away."

This however seemed to quell Valannthor quite a bit. "How soon before you can open the gateway again?"

"It will take time, as expected," he warned. "We must gather reagents again, many of which are quite rare as well as time to gather the immense magical energies needed to pierce through the veil. And finally we must wait for our plane to align once again before contact can be made."

"And this can be done?"

"It has been before."

"Then make haste," the Emperor commanded. "We need the alicorn - the fate of the Empire depends on it."

"What of this thestral, father?" Aidur asked.

"Let the rebels keep their new pet," Valannthor replied as leaned back into the throne. "Some monster roaming the southlands is of no concern to us. With any luck it’ll be tearing the throats out of its liberators for us.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuugh,” Amber grumbled. “All this freaking sun suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks!”

She pulled the hood of her undershirt over her head until her eyes could only see the deep grey shade it cast for her. The bright afternoon sun shone down upon her and her companions as they traveled the worn road. What few overcast clouds had remained from the previous day's storm had long since cleared away and left a wide open clear sky in their wake. The lack of shade was starting to become rather annoying to the normally nocturnal mare. On the plus side, at least all this sunlight had managed to dry up most of the mud. Beside her, Rictor continued to keep pace while behind them Rourke and the others traveled with their wagon loaded with traveling supplies.

"It's a beautiful day though," Rictor commented as he glanced down at the mare beside him.

"I don't know if the ears and wings weren't enough of a hint or not," Amber grumbled. "But if you haven't noticed, I'm part bat, meaning nocturnal for the most part. I mean, I don't mind some sunshine or trying to be a bit more active during the day, but freaking jeez, we haven't passed under a tree or cloud for like hours!"

Snickering to himself, the young squire gave her hooded head a ruffle. "We'll be in Crestfall soon enough and then you can hide away at the inn ‘til the big bad sun goes to sleep."

The young man's teasing managed to summon a hint of red that bled its way through the fur of her cheeks. Amber pulled herself out from under Rictor's hand and was about to retort his poking fun at her when something else caught her attention: Upon the breeze there came a scent that was both familiar and foreign to the young mare. Her keen nose picked up on the scent of burnt wood and smoke that wafted through the air but there was something else that clung tightly to it. It was something she'd never smelt before, but it's acrid stench sent a shiver through her entire body.

Rictor saw the sudden change in his friend's demeanor and the looks of worry and confusion that graced her overly expressive eyes. His hand leapt to the hilt of his sword while he scanned the horizon. "Amber, what is it?"

Without a word, she unfurled her wings from her sides and with one swift flap she launched herself into the sky. Even with the added weight of her weapons and armor she was able to rise high into the air and now had nearly perfect view of the world beneath her. She moved her predatory eyes across the landscape until they settled upon what she'd been afraid she'd smelt.

"Alright then," Rourke started. "Yer choice is, one'a them freaky-headed harf’lins or that gnoll bar wench from The Red Dragon, ye know, the one with the one good eye. An' ye gotta marry'er too."

He and Ogrham's little game was suddenly ended when bat-mare companion fell from the sky and into the back of hte cart. "Trouble ahead," she said shakily, her face grim. "Town down the road... it doesn't look good."

Amber could feel her stomach twisting and ripping itself apart at the sight before her. The stone-and-wood buildings of this village had been burnt to the ground. Bodies had been left in piles where they’d fallen, some had been burnt to a blackened crisp while others were bloated by the various stages of decay and filled her nostrils with the acrid stench. A number of bodies hung from ropes around their necks that hung from the a tree near the center of town. Despite the thick smoke that still hung in the air she could still see the silhouettes of the bodies strewn across the ground and hear the caws of carrion birds as they fed.

One large crow in particular dug its beak deep into the crisped flesh of a tiny twisted form and pulled forth a strip of blackened flesh. As it gobbled it down, Rictor planted the tip of his boot square in the bird’s chest sending it airborne with a shrill cry of protest. The young man looked about the looked about the grizzly scene with burning rage reflected in his eyes.

“Crestfall...," Rictor said in a shaken tone. "These people were farmers and laborers... who would do this?"

“Bandits,” Frank was quick to reply through barred teeth. “This looks like a damned raid.”

“Doubt it,” Rourke corrected him. “Bandits’d jus’ take valuables an’ baubles, they’d’ve killed any folks that tried ta stop’em. Get in an’ get out in a fast attack sort’a thing. This looks like they killed the whole fuck’in town.”

"These fires have only just begun to quell and yet the bodies are rotting so quickly," Sabine pointed out. "The weapons used to kill them were no doubt poisoned to ensure that even the merely wounded would die as well."

“Why would they kill the whole town,” Amber asked with a shake in her voice while several tears began to pain her face. “They killed mares and foals alike, what’s the point of all of this!?”

“I don't know," Rourke growled. "These folk kept ta themselves; never got involved with either side dur'in the war."

As his companions tried to make sense of this destruction and carnage, Ogrham had been silent. The dwarf strode through the debris filled streets and took his time amongst the dead and fallen. He knelt down before the corpse of what was once a child and placed his hand gently atop her partially exposed skull. His eyes shut and tightly as a few tears ran down his scar-blunted face and into his thick beard. His body began to shake and tremble with a growing rage that threatened to shatter the world around him with blind wrath. Gritting his teeth he sprang to his feet and turned towards the rest of the group.

“Rourke,” Ogrham bellowed, “tracks, find ‘em! The rest’a ye, we gather the bodies in the square.”

He wanted to throw up when his gloved hand pressed into the crispy flesh of a body and it broke and cracked under the pressure. Rictor pushed this out of his mind as he hefted the body off the cart and carried it the ever growing pit of bodies. His mind began to wander to darkened corners long left unchecked as he pulled another corpse from the wagon to add to the pile. He could feel the long buried memories starting to claw their way back to the surface as he looked over the devastation around him.

There was a scent of smoke and blood, bodies strewn about accompanied by the howl of frigid winds that tore and ripped him apart. He could hear the screams of the dead and dying all around him as he ran through the crumbling halls that tried to swallow him whole. A phantom pain scratched across his scarred cheek and caused his body to shudder with hate and rage. There was a swell of fury when the blade tore into him once again and blood poured from his face. There was the scream of a young woman who rushed to his side, her quivering voice as she begged him to hold on while she pulled him to safety.

This image of a young, red-skinned woman began to fall away when he looked upon Sabine as she was now. The tiefling woman stared into his eyes with a worry and sadness that caused his chest to twist and break. He quickly averted his gaze to aid the mare beside him with the last of the dead for fear that if he stared any longer then his stoic facade might give way to a flow of tears. This nearly came to pass regardless when he felt his sister's arms wrap tightly around him and pull him close.

"Illi nauva hanno." she whispered softly to him in their native tongue.

It shook him to his core to hear her speak in the former language of Acosta, something that neither of them had dared do since their self imposed exile. With little to no thought, his arms tightly embraced her around the middle and tears fell from his eyes. "Hantalë-illo, nésa," he replied in a weakly hushed tone.

The desecrated corpses of the townsfolk had been laid out in lines with a great deal of care and respect at the center of the ruined town. Silence fell upon them all as the grime and gore stained dwarf of their troupe strode forward and took a knee before the assembled dead. He took the hefty warmaul from where it was slung across his back and touched its head to the ground.

Orgrham bowed his head against the shaft of his weapon and said. “Roirdain, father'a stone, war, honor an’ brotherhood, I call to ye now on this black day. I ask ye ta watch over the souls ’a these fallen. Though they are notta my blood nor kin ta me, I pray that ye guard their souls an’ guide them well to their final restin’ place wherever that may be. Grant them the peace in death that was taken from 'em in life."

As his prayer came to a close, golden hued energy began to snake its way through the runic markings of his hammer. His weapon became a bright, glowing beacon of golden light that shone through the smoke and haze of the village square. He raised the hammer high above his head and brought it down upon the ground with all the force his thick arms could provide. Stone and solid earth cracked and broke beneath the blow and a burst of brilliant white energy leapt from the hammer's head. The stream of radiant energy struck the piled bodies and a spark of blue flames rose up from them. It burned and consumed the dead flesh, leaving only flecks of gold that floated off in the wind. No one dared say a word as they watched this sad yet oddly beautiful act play out before them.

Amber could feel a strange wash of awe and sadness fill her body as she watched the golden ashy particles drift about until they were swept into the air by a passing breeze. She wiped her head around and stared at them in wonder as they flew away on their unseen wings. There was little to no way for her to hold back the tears that began to roll down from her eyes and tumble across her muzzle. All around her, the softly glowing slivers of what had once been an entire village danced through the air.

Despite the eerie beauty of it all, it was just far too much for her. These had been stallions, mares and their foals, all of which had been cut down without mercy and now they were not but motes of dust. She clamped her eyes shut tightly and took off at a full gallop away from this scene. Little did she realize that her abrupt exit had not gone unnoticed.

Rising to his feet, Ogrham turned his attention now to Rourke, "The tracks?"

"Aye, found 'em," he replied with a nod. "They headed west from the village. They've got a clear head start on us, but they're transportin’ some'in big an' heavy, should slow 'em down a wee bit."

"Good," Ogrham said with a grunt. "Then let's go an' kill everyone 'a the bloody dogs."

She ran blindly through the crumbled streets of Crestfall, bumping and stumbling into various pieces of debris. She lost her footing along the way and fell to the ash and grime stained ground causing the tears to flow profusely from her eyes. Forcing through the pain, she got back to her hooves and ran until all around her was not but the thick woodlands that surround Crestfall.

Finally free of the town and it's choking scent, she fell to the soft forest floor and began to weep openly. She screamed and cried but no one and nothing replied to her wails of pain and confusion. Her twisted and torn insides could no longer take the stress. The stench of death, flesh and rot still hung heavily upon her coat and burned through her nostrils. Her throat clenched tightly for a moment before everything in her stomach purged itself through her mouth.

Amber painfully wretched, gagged and coughed as pool of bile and tears started to form at her hooves. The taste burned her mouth and the freshly added stink only caused her to throw up even more. She could feel her legs becoming weaker and her entire body trembling as painful spasms shook her from the core. Tears continued to fall from her face as she wept and screamed through the hurt, both physical and mental.

Her ears twitched and her head snapped around at the sound of twig snapping. With a strand of vomit still hanging from her lip, she looked up to see Rictor staring down at her sadly. Breathing heavily through the last of her spasms she wiped her face clean and quickly looked away from her companion in shame.

"Lady Shine," he called to her with a concerned voice.

"I'm... I'm fine," she coughed out with a wheeze.

"The savage nature of our world weighs heavily upon you," Rictor commented as he slowly and cautiously closed the gap.

"I just..." she stammered in frustration. "The Guard trained me, they prepared me for anything. They taught me and everypony like me how to face any challenge and overcome it. But this... nopony prepares you for this."

She bristled for a moment when his hand came to rest upon the back of her neck, but it quickly faded. A relaxed feeling emanated from where he placed his hand and began to spread throughout her body. Amber knew from the sound of his armor and the shift of his hand that he'd taken a knee beside her. A canteen of water was then lifted into her vision which she quickly took in her hooves. Settling upon her haunches she drank the cleansing liquid and purged her wounded pallet of the foul taste that stained it.

The young man simply sat beside her, running his hand down her neck in a comforting motion. No words passed between them as Amber fought to regain her wits and control over her body as a whole. With a tired sigh she handed off the canteen to him and wiped the excess from her mouth.

"You probably think I'm weak after seeing me like that," she said with a low whimper.

"During the battle in which I and my sister fled, I saw much death on the same scale as today," he said in a hushed tone. "I was only a boy of ten years when I saw a man cut down in front of me. After we escaped, I was constantly plagued by nightmares and wept myself to sleep every night. You're not weak, Lady Shine, you are a woman with a heart and I pray that you do not lose it."

Amber could feel herself begin to tremble once again as a fresh coating of tears began to break their way free of her eyes and trickle down her face. Without thinking she threw her forelimbs around the young squire's midsection and squeezed him with all her might. Rictor let out a surprised gasp when he felt the oddly strong pressure that the mare's tiny frame was able to produce as it pressed against his armor. The squire let her hold him, making no motion to force her away while he ran his hand through her mane. As her tears stained and soaked his tabard Amber began to feel something she hadn't since the day she came to this hostile world. For the first time she didn't feel so alone.

The serene peace of the forest was suddenly dashed as a tiny figure burst from the underbrush. A small boy with flaxen hair and blue eyes ran as fast as his tiny legs could carry him. Tears, dirt and blood stained his face and clothes, Skin and attire alike were ripped and torn by the clawing branches that reached for him as he passed. A misplaced root caused him to tumbled head over heel down an embankment until he came to a stop in a shallow stream at the bottom.

“BOY!” a loud gruff voice from far behind him in the woods sent a cold chill through his body.

Coughing and wheezing, he pushed himself up on shaky arms as he fought against the blinding pain that filled him from his lungs to limbs. In a panic he clawed and clambered to pull himself into a mass of roots at the side of the bank. He bit down hard on his pain and fear when a pair of thick leather boots plopped themselves into the muddy water just a few feet away from his hiding place.

“Where ye at, boy,” growled the far larger man. His shaved head and face was marred by a number of scars that seemed to fit well with the ones that littered his patchwork armor. In his hand was a long sword that clearly had seen better days judging from the poor quality of the weapon. He trudged about in an angry huff as he scanned about the stream bed.

“C’mon out boy,” he shouted. “Makin’ me mad’s only gonna make it worse for ye when I find you!”

The child covered his mouth tightly with his hand to muffle his urge to break into a fit of tears and screams. Just inches away from him the irate bandit paced back and forth as he continued to mutter angrily to himself. “When I find ‘em I’m gonna hack his feet off; see ‘em run away then, says I.”

From his hiding spot under the tree’s roots he watched as the man stomped his way out of the streambed and started to jog off into the bush. He sat and watched for a moment before carefully poking his head out. Slowly he felt his courage returning as he carefully and quietly pulled himself out from the roots as if the slightest sound would conjure his pursuer the moment it was made. As he started to stand up though, his arm was snatched in a vice like grip and he was roughly hoisted off his feet. The boy let out a loud shriek of pain and terror as the muscles of his arm twisted into an odd angle while his arm’s socket threatened to pop loose.

“Jus’ like catchin’ a rabbit,” the bandit mused happily. “You’re lucky we need you an’ the others alive, ye little shit,” he snarled into the squirming child’s ear. “I’ve a mind to hack your legs up so’s ye can’t run again, in fact…” He brought his sword to the child’s thigh and poked and prodded him, just barely cutting through his clothes and into the skin to draw small lines of blood. “Maybe I will, could always tell the others ye fell an’ got messed up that way.”

From within the confines of the wilds a single shaft split the air and buried itself into the bandit’s shoulder. The shock and pain from the arrow rending flesh and shattering the joint of his shoulder caused him to lose his grip on the boy. As the child tumbled to the muddy ground a bluish blur scooped him from the ground before swiftly retreating with him in tow. His senses starting to return, the outlaw soon found himself suddenly surrounded by several armed and angry figures.

“What was that ye said ‘bout catchin’ rabbits, mate?” Rourke asked as he drew back another arrow. “‘Cause I just think I caught me the king o’ the coneys.”

Amber came to a very careful landing behind her comrades and gingerly released the child from the grip of her forelimbs. “It’s okay, we’re here to save you,” she softly assured the little boy.

The bandit fell back against the tree behind him with his sword raised to defend himself but as he weighed his odds he let it slip from his hand. "I surrender," he said with a grin.

From the corner of his eyes Rourke caught sight of the gleam in Ogrham's eye. "Shine, Squire, see ta the boy, far from here if ye'd please."

With a nod of agreement, the pair ushered the child away from the already far too tense scene. When the child was well out of sight Ogrham began to close the gap with the wounded man, his hammer resting upon his shoulder. The hate and rage brimming in the dwarf's glare caused him to shrink and glance about the area in a panic.

"Oi, I surrendered," he reminded them. "Ye know, given up, parlay, don't wanna fight no more, that sorta thing. I ain't even got a weapon no more."

"Tell me lady," Ogrham said. "'Ow many 'a them villagers said the same thing ta ye?"

His eyes went wide when those spiteful words entered his ears. Before he could muster up a word the heavy maul was brought down with all the force the dwarf could muster. The air was filled with screams and wails of pain that helped to drown out the dull wet THUMP and CRUNCH of the warhammer slamming down on top of his knee. Blood spurted from the point of impact while the lower half the leg was suddenly contorted upwards at an odd angle. Ogrham pried the hammer free of its resting place with a sickening sound. Chunks of meat and bone dropped from the face of his maul with a steady stream of blood sloshing off the head.

"Jus' wanted ta make sure ye dinna try an' run away," the dwarf said mockingly. "Now, let's 'ave a wee little chat."

Amber inwardly flinched as her sharp pointed ears picked up every scream and howl that was happening further downstream. Instead she kept a happy face as she trotted along the bank with the tiny human upon her back and holding onto her neck. She could feel him shivering and shaking a little less and less the further away they got from his attacker.

"It's okay sweetie," Amber repeated for the tenth time. "You're safe now, we won't let anyone hurt you."

Eventually they came to a stop where she knelt down and let his clamber off her back with a little help from her wings. The child looked up at her with a mixture of fear and wonder in his eyes as he looked the armored mare up and down. It brought a smile to her muzzle as it reminded her of the way little colts and fillies would stare up at her and her compatriots when they went on parade. So much so that she couldn't resist puffing her chest out a bit with a brazenly confident smile even going so far as to fully stretch out her wings to show off their full span to the child.

"Yeah, pretty cool huh," Amber said with a smirk. "Maybe when you're feeling better I'll take you for a flight?"

Amber and her ego both quickly deflated when the boy backed away and began eyeing her fearfully. She quickly folded her wings back against her sides and took a step away from the trembling lad. In her eyes he looked like a frightened animal that had been cornered and ready to bolt in the blink of an eye. She threw a concerned look towards Rictor who picked up on her cue and cautiously knelt down beside the boy. At first he shied away from the squire but slowly he looked to warm up to him a bit faster than with Amber.

"Child, do you know what this symbol means?" he asked pointing to the crest upon his tabard. When he nodded in reply, a soft smile graced Rictor's features. "Then you know I will not harm you and I swear to you that neither will my companions. It's as she said: You're safe now."

For a moment all he did was look between the two with a clear uneasiness radiating from him. Then all at once a torrent fell from his eyes and he threw his tiny arms around Rictor's mid-section. The child cried and wept against the squire's tabard while Rictor gently stroked his hair. Amber couldn't help but feel a warm-hearted smile pull itself across her muzzle as she watched this all unfold.

"Can you tell us your name, sweetie?" Amber asked in a soft tone.

He was hesitant, glancing between the two before giving his answer with downcast eyes. "Martin..."

"Named after the great hero, yes," Rictor asked and the boy nodded a yes. "You've done him an honor by being so brave thus far. Can you tell us how you ended up in these woods?"

"The bad people," he replied in a hushed tone. "They gathered us up an' were takin’ us some place... but I'm small an' slipped through the bars of the cage. I... I was gonna run for help, but... but that man spotted me na' was chasin’ me an'... an’…"

Amber leaned in and nuzzled the boy's cheek with a soft smile. "It’s okay Martin, it’s okay, you found the help you went looking for. You’re safe now, sweetie."

“But… but what if they come back?”

“Then we stop them,” Rictor told him. “Now, dry your eyes lad, we’ve still a long road ahead of us.”