Tales of the Unforgiven

Chapters

Æclypse: Taking the Fall
Wanderlust- Nopony Else
Æclypse- The Agoge: Part 1
Thulian Cosmology
Æclypse- The Sellsword [part 1]
Æclypse- The Sellsword [part 2]

Æclypse: Taking the Fall

“My name is Æclypse, last son of the Ultima bloodline, the exiled and forgotten prince of Thule. And this is my story.

A very long time ago, my home was the great northern kingdom of Thule. West of the Crystal mountains and nestled in the Misty Mountain range, Thule is the ancient homeland of the unicorn tribe. Is was from here that one of the founders of the southern land of Equestria, Princess Platinum of the Merovingian bloodline and her noble aide Clover the Clever set out to find a new home for their kin during the Great Winter brought on by the Windigos.

Now however, I have not seen the place of my birth for many days and nights. Now I have no home, tensions between myself and the Equestrian arc-ruler, and the actions of my mad brother led to my exile.

Forced to wander the world aimlessly, my story is long and varied. I’ve encountered many strange and wonderful ponies, seen things that no normal stallion could hope to witness in a single lifetime.

I have no family left, but my memories of them are vivid. My beautiful and gracious mother, my wise and stoic father, my mentor, even my cousin who was my best friend. But most thoughts of my family concern my brother, ßombra.

In the last days I knew him, he had become something else, a monster. But that was only a short few days, and not to be understood as the totality of his life. I remember him as my little brother, whom I would go on mock adventures with, sneaking into forbidden rooms in the castle and giving all kinds of grief to the guards.

In retrospect, that creature of shadow and smoke was not my brother. It was a creation of those dark crystals that grew in the depths of the Crystal Mountains. Whatever King ßombra was, it had killed my brother.

“Father is meeting with the Crystal Queen today.” He said to me one day. At the time we were colts, still yet to be granted our icons. I had come upon him in the library after breakfast sitting on a bench, and saw that he was studying a book opened on the table before him.

“Apparently she requires his counsel regarding some border dispute with the Yaks.”

Years before we would earn our armor or royal robes, we went about as the gods made us. I would have liked to let my mane be wild, but mother insisted I put bands on to keep them contained. ßombra was more vain and kept his well groomed, he was rarely caught without his brush close by. He often acted spoiled and proud, but I knew him best, and saw past his façade to a sharp and methodical mind.

“I know the Yaks say that the Empire has hindered their trade routes to the east. Even siphoned off their favorite spice merchant.”

I approached to see what book he was reading, but he closed it and turned it so that the spine faced away from me.

“It seems the Yaks consider the routes a part of their territory. Not an illogical claim. They make a lot of noise, but they’ve been tamed ever since our great-grandfather brought them to heel.”

Looking around the library, at the shelves filled with tomes and scrolls, and the artwork placed by generations past, I recalled the legend of Thalamar’s victory over the mighty Yaks. The version told to me by my mentor Wiglaf was full of heroic imagery and passionate admiration. ßombra’s tutor, Iambic Pentameter, told more of the details and the strategy involved, something for us to learn from about winning battles.

“I heard she’s really nice.” I said, “Queen Amore, I bet she smells like fresh flowers.”

I had heard a few things about our neighboring monarch, all of them that she was kind and caring to all of her subjects.

ßombra rolled his eyes, “Yes, I imagine she smells quite pleasant.”
He eyed me curiously, thinking something over in his head.

“With father out of the city, I was wondering if you would join me on a little mission.”

“What kind of mission?” I knew full well that he wanted to do something that father would not approve, he often sought to subvert the rules of the house.

“Nothing dangerous, I assure you.” ßombra jumped down from the bench, and started in the direction of the stairs to the next floor. “Father’s errand got me thinking, and I wonder just what kind of plans he might have in case we had to war with the Yaks again.”

“You’re thinking he has battle plans in his chambers? I’m not sure that’s where they store them.” I followed him out and up the flight of steps.

“That’s exactly where I’d keep secret battle plans.” He said, pausing to look back at me. “That or in the dungeon, behind an enchanted door.”

“An enchanted door?” I asked him.

“Yeah, and down a, no, up a really long flight of stairs.”

“Seems like an awful lot of work to hide something.” reaching the top, I watched him peek around the corner, to make sure no guards were going to catch us.

“Well if somepony wants to get at my valuables, I want them to work for it.” He galloped across the hall and I right behind him. Our parents private chamber lay just a few doors down.

While I was older and a bit bigger, he was always the more crafty. And despite my advantages I was usually the one following his lead. Looking back on it, I see that the makings of a truly great unicorn were manifesting even so young. I lament where his talents ultimately led him.

“Do you think Thule will ever have to go to war in our lives Sombra?” Walking past a suit of armor, I tried to imagine myself large and old enough to wear such heavy attire and being able to fight in it.

“Most likely not.” ßombra said, he sounded disappointed. “The Yaks have been put in their place, and certainly seem to enjoy feasting more than mortal combat. The Agoge provides them with all the fighting they have the stomach for.

And who besides them is there to fight? The empire has no army to boast of, and the southerners are but farmers and simple villagers.”

We approached the door to the bedroom, where it stood imposing to our small frames.

“The best army on the continent,” he continued. “and no-pony to use it against.”

“What about the Griffins?” I asked with a bit of wonder. Of course neither of us had ever seen a griffin in real life, only from old tales did we learn of them. There had been a series of battles long ago between the Griffins and the Pegasus, a war of attrition over aerial territory. Eventually, the typically proud Pegasus had asked for our aid, and together our forces finally defeated them and drove them away.

“Or dragons?” ßombra responded with even more speculative awe.
“Raawww!” He reared up and clawed at the air in my direction like a roaring beast.

We shared a chuckle, mostly because such fantastic creatures existed only in our imaginations. Glancing back to the door, ßombra used his magic to pull on the latch, he strained, so I helped with my own. When we had drawn it open enough, we slipped in and used our shoulders to close it behind us. The room to us was gigantic, tall enough that I nearly stumbled over as I craned my neck to look at the ceiling. The centerpiece was the bed, large, with crimson blankets and curtains, corner posts that supported a canopy.

On the walls were a few portraits, one of the eastern horizon, another portraying the journey of Platinum and Clover, and a third that immortalized the victory of King Thalamar the Great.

Our parents room had always intimidated me, for I knew it was very old and contained items of great value. The tables had been passed down from our ancestors, the full length mirror had once belonged to Princess Platinum herself. On our mother’s side was a wooden model on which hung her royal gown. She hardly cared to wear it for comfort’s sake, but she respected the necessity to keep it maintained for her role. Beside that was her jewelry chest, and a cabinet table where she kept small portraits of her family and other miscellaneous items.

On father’s side was his personal library, a model that wore his armor, and a table with an ornate clock that had been gifted to his father during his reign. He kept his belongings spartan. Years later he would show me that his drawers were acutely organized by memory so that he could retrieve something without having to look.

On the wall above the headboard, was a family portrait that we had sat for a few months prior, dressed in our finest for our descendants to admire.

“Where do you think father keeps his secret papers?” I asked Sombra as I marveled at the room.

He hummed as he thought, glancing about. “He’s a meticulous organizer, and likes to group by type. If he were to hide battle plans…”

Finally he fixated on the armor. “Æclypse, help me onto the bookcase.”

I took a position in front of it, and allowed ßombra to jump into my back, and reach up to the top. He hefted himself over the ledge, his back legs scrambling to keep him up. I used my magic to push him higher until he at last made it atop. He turned and looked down to me,

“I’d bet he hides something in the armor. Who besides him would dare touch it?”

“I don’t think this is a good idea ßombra, father will know we were in here if he finds his things misplaced.”

My brother dismissed my concern with a wave of his hoof. “That’s why I must pay very close attention to detail, so that I can put things back exactly where he left them.”

Standing on the edge of the bookcase, I watched him concentrate on the helm. With his tongue sticking out and curled around his upper lip, he started to levitate it off the model. It took him a few tries, but slowly and surely, he managed to lift it and guide it over next to him.

The helmet was big enough that either of us might wear it on our back, and ßombra stuck his head inside to inspect for any secrets within.

“You see anything?” I called out, unable to tell if he had discovered anything or not.

“I’ll tell you what I see.”

The voice from behind me, gentle as it was, startled me and sent a thrill of fear through my chest. I spun around to see our mother, Queen Eras, leaning her head in through the doorway. Her raven dark mane contrasted the gleaming white of her fur, and offset the piercing blue of her eyes. She stared down at us, more observant than displeased that we had entered their room without permission.

Behind me I heard my brother scurry to free himself from the helm in a hurry, hitting his head on the way out.

I felt guilty that I had violated her order, for she had always been loving with us, and did not deserve disobedience from us. I became wracked with guilt and felt on the verge of tears.

“I see a pair of little colts who have ventured where they are not permitted.”

She entered the room without a sound, and I tripped over my own legs as I backed away from her. I fell on my rump, and felt the embrace of her red magic surround me and lift me into the air. She set me down on the bed, and put ßombra next to me. He too seemed regretful in the face of our mother.

“Now my sons,” She began, her voice soothing and firm. “Speak to me truly, what were you doing in my chambers? Thou knowist you are not allowed to come in here absent your father or I.”

At first we did not answer, for we were condemned already for trespassing, and did not want to compound our punishment.

“Well?” She cast her gaze to ßombra, who shrunk his head into his shoulders. “ßombra, has your curiosity led you and your brother astray?”

This was far from the first time my brother had gotten in trouble for doing things he was not supposed to. He always desired to learn more, push the boundaries of what he could do. I knew that he would face some unpleasant punishment once father returned.

“It as my idea mother.” I said, puffing my chest in an effort to square myself to her judgment. “It was at my ushering that we entered without your blessing.” I looked sidelong to ßombra, where he gazed at me with a mix of confusion, woe, and admiration.

Mother scrutinized me and I knew she could tell I was lying to save my brother from chastisement. Her pursed lips altered with a small curl before she spoke again.

“Æclypse, you know better.” The scolding voice was soft, which seemed to make it all the worse. “And what’s more you have led thy brother into misbehavior.”

“Yes mother.” I said guiltily, lowering my eyes to the blanket. “I wanted to put on Father’s helm, to see what it would be like.”

“And so you shall one day my son. But for now you are much to little for it. So what shall your punishment be then? Hmm?” She walked around to the side of the bed and laid herself down behind us.

“Shall I make you recite from my book of poetry with my noble-mare friends in audience? Shall I have Wiglaf instruct you on how to polish a suit of armor until it gleams?”

Reaching out with her hoof, she took us into embrace against her breast. I heard a slight sigh escape her, not one of frustration, but of satisfaction.

“I could count all the bricks in the castle.” I suggested.

She laughed it off with a warm chuckle, “That would take far too long Æclypse, and no doubt get you in everypony else’s way.”

Mother ran a hoof over our manes, “No, rather I think I shall have you assist me in the garden.”

The royal garden was a beautiful place. Protected within a round room of windows overlooking the south, it was filled with flowers and small berry plants that had been cared for ever since our bloodline ascended to the throne. It was her favorite place to relax and tend to her hobbies, where she would sooth father whenever he was disturbed or wroth, and where I liked to play at adventurer.

She lifted both of us from the bed and carried us to the door, placing us down in the hallway. Crossing the threshold, she closed the door behind her.

“ßombra, you are not without fault here. I want you to go back down to the library, and read a book on how castles are built. I know there are a few. When you are finished, come to me, and tell me what you learned.”

Mother leaned down, and kissed the top of his head, ßombra blushed.

“Hm-hm.” She mused, then used her snout to usher him along his way.

“Come Æclypse, I have chores for you.”

I watched her round the corner and took a few steps to follow, but stopped to look back at ßombra, who lingered at the top of the stairs.

“Thank you brother.” He said to me after a moment with the same reverence I had seen in his eyes.

I nodded in return, it was all the thanks needed, for I was merely protecting my little brother.

In time, it was my protectiveness of him that doomed us all.

Author's Note

[Sketch of colt Sombra and Æclypse will be added as soon as I get home in a few hours and scan them in]

So yeah, this is the first of many random shorts about the lives of Aeclypse and Wanderlust. We'll go on to meet a lot more characters, and see some of the references made in the main Unforgiven saga.

This will be irregularly updated, with no particular chronological order, so expect the timeline to be random.

In the next tale, Wanderlust and his companion Trixie get out of dodge, and have a little song about their odd lot in life.

Wanderlust- Nopony Else

“THWOONGGGG!”

The crossbow bolt struck the tree and buried its head into the wooden flesh.

A few paces behind it, leaning with his back to a grass covered mound in the middle of the forest, a charcoal unicorn stallion slept, a Stetson hat pulled over his face.

At the sound of the arrow hitting the tree, he immediately perked-up. Gazing wide-eyed out from underneath the brim of the hat, he realized immediately the danger he was in. He tore his hat off and turned to his right.

“TRIXIEEEE! THEY FOUND US!”

A few seconds later, he, along with a light-blue colored unicorn mare were barreling through bushes and over logs, a mob of angry town ponies in pursuit, torches and pitchforks borne.

“I told you we should have taken the left at the fork in the road!” Trixie yelled, using her magic to keep her wizard hat from flying off her head.

“Me?” he fired back, “We were doing fine until you launched that firework flare into the mayor’s office and started a fire!”

The roar of the horde calling after them redoubled as they broke out from the trees and into a clearing.

Ducking another shaft, out of the corner of his eye he saw an opportunity for escape off to their left.

“Come on! This way!”

He wrapped one of his hooves around hers and pulled her to the side as they ran.

“Hey!” She cried, objecting to the rough handling. “Wanderlust, I think this way leads to the-”

At a full sprint, they both leaped off the edge of the cliff.

“WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”

Trixie clamped onto him around his waist, terrified by the 20-meter drop to the running water below.

They fell, he using his magic to hold onto his saddle bags. The river flowed at a moderate pace, and when they splashed into it, they sank below the surface.

Huddled together on the bluff, the crowd watched with irritation as their quarry escaped.

The stallion burst from the water first with a gasp for breath

“Like she said, my name is Wanderlust.

Roamer, wanderer, nomad, vagabond, call me what you will.

I’m the type of pony who never settles down, I go from place to place, move from town to town.

You know how the song goes. Long story short, I left home a long time ago to travel the world. Seen a lot of things, met a lot of ponies, had my fair share of adventures and close calls. And your share, and her share, and his share over there in the corner.

Now, normally I don’t like to brag. Unless it’s going to get me out of a jam. Or, into someplace comfortable, then I’ll brag my flank off. But I usually don’t like to lie. This time however, I had to tell a little white lie. For a good reason mind you, a totally good reason.

See, me and my running buddy Trixie, she’s that pretty little aspiring wizard that the angry mob also wanted to catch, are on a mission. Well, she’s helping me on my mission really, I took her on years ago back in Fillydelphia when she was just a… well… a filly.

Being the rover that I am, I’ve had occasion to come across some interesting bits of information, sometimes maps, sometimes just a rumor. This time I was working off a pretty reliable source as far as treasure goes, couldn’t say much more about his state of mind, but he knew his stuff when it came to plunder.

He told me a legend about piece of jewelry, an amulet to be precise, one that granted the wearer great magical power. If this amulet was the one I was thought it was, then I had to find it before it fell into the wrong hooves. Trust me this amulet is a nasty piece of work that could do some real damage if the wrong pony got a hold of it.

We were investigating a lead in a little town east of the Macintosh Hills, some small settler outpost. Turns out this group was from Dodge City, and had certain… disagreements with how they thought a city should be run. Namely the degree to which they should enforce what they called “Moral Purity Laws”. Needless to say me and Trix had to watch ourselves.

The lead was that they kept a few magical items in their town hall, locked in monument they built their village around. Equestrian ponies aren’t known for being the most ideological bunch, but you do get the odd pockets of those who really, really want to set a good example for the rest of us.

Strolling into town earlier that day, we had a game plan. It was a trick we had used a few times, simple, played to our strengths, and if all went according to plan everypony got a good show.

EARLIER THAT DAY

“Alright Trix, you know how this goes.”

Standing beside a general store, Wanderlust and Trixie eyed the locals who milled about in the town square.

“You give ‘em the old razzle-dazzle, and I go see if there’s any honey in the hive.”

Wanderlust continued to fixate on the town hall, but Trixie changed her focus to stare incredulously at her partner.

“Wanderlust, you have the worst phrases, you know that?”

He whipped his head around to give her a confused and wounded expression.

“What do you mean, ‘the worst phrases’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

This was a conversation they’d had a dozen times, but Trixie just returned a smile and chuckled slightly.

“You make it sound like we’re here to rob them the way you talk.” Her smile flattened into a suspicious frown, “Wait, you’re not planning to rob them are you?”

“What? No!” Wanderlust glanced around quickly to make sure nopony had overheard that part.

“We’re just here looking for the Amulet, nothing more, nothing less. Though I will be fair, if it turns out they do have the Amulet, then yes, we will be stealing it.”

“Well…” Trixie took another look past his shoulder to where an earth pony stallion was exiting their target building. “If this thing can really do what you say, then it’s best we get it into the right hooves in Canterlot before it can unleash all kinds of chaos.”

“Yeah, the princess will know how to handle it better than these bunch of headcases.”

Trixie gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs to admonish him, but he grimaced defiantly.

“Trust me, I know how bad things can get when ponies take their ideologies too far.”

Across the square from the civil headquarters, was a raised stage of some kind for public displays. Trixie got a wry smirk when she saw it.

“There’s my platform. You just worry about getting caught poking around their little treasure trove.”

“Don’t chu’ worry, they’ll be too captivated by your fantastic new act to notice little ‘ole me.”

Trixie and Wanderlust regarded each other for a few moments with narrow eyes. She pulled her head back slightly, and gave him a wink accompanied by a click of the tongue.

“You got that right.”

“That’s my girl.” he said as she walked past him, and he retreated to the rear of the building.

A few minutes later, as the townsponies went about their business in the square, the raised platform was engulfed in smoke and a series of pyrotechnic flares. They stopped and stared wide-eyed at the display, worried murmurs and curious onlookers gathering around to see what might emerge from the fume.

“Prepare yourselves!”

Trixie’s voice wafted through to the crowd, and the chatter among them increased.

“For the greatness and power of!…”

As the smoke cleared, they could see her standing with her fore-hooves raised, her cape flapping and wizard hat tilted to the side.

“TRIXIE!”

While those assembled gaped and awed, and Trixie began her presentation by holding her hat out in front of her, a fountain of sparks flowing out of it in the shape of a bouquet.

Glancing at the show from a distance, Wanderlust smirked.

“She’s come so far.” Was what I thought to myself as I watched her do her routine. True I had seen more powerful unicorns in my time, but Trixie’s talent lay in her presentation, her flare for showmareship. Which was good, because it helped to make her a great distraction.

Wanderlust skulked along the individual buildings, none of them more than two floors tall. The square was arraigned in a circle, and the stage was opposite the town hall. One of the double doors hung open, and he squirmed his way inside without making a noise.

Ducking aside to a shadowed corner, he gave the small rotunda a quick look around, making sure that the building was indeed vacant save him, and safe to proceed. In the center of the rotunda, was a statue of an Earth Pony stallion, his fore hooves resting on a raised crag, he looking out over some metaphorical vista.

At the base of the bronze statue, Wanderlust could discern the straight lines of the sides of an access panel.

Stepping lightly so as to not allow the clop of his hooves to echo too loud, he made his way over to the figure, staring intently at his point of entry.

He cranked his neck side-to-side and exhaled, preparing to remove the panel with all the delicate concentration of a heart surgeon. Using his magic, he carefully dislodged the slab of metal, a few minute glances of contact made him wince, but he got it away without much trouble, and placed it on the floor.

Though the opening was too small for him to stick his head inside, his horn illuminated the dark space and he peered inside.

“Where are you…” Wanderlust muttered under his breath, trying to catch sight of the items that were supposed to be kept within.

“Please tell me I haven’t wasted a month chasing down a false lead.”

Finally, he spied the corner of a box, and a smile crept across his lips. Wrapping it in his magic, he drew it out, the opening being just wide enough for box to slide through. In the light, he saw that it had once been a pastel green, but was now caked in dust and grime. Made of ceramic, it wasn’t much bigger than a shoebox, whatever item it held was the right size to be the amulet he sought.

“and now for my newest trick!” Outside, Trixie’s sounded like she was getting excited. All the better as far as Wanderlust was concerned, it just meant that she was keeping their attention.

He bit his lip as he lifted the cover, the grinding sound making him anxious. When it separated at last, the item inside was not an amulet.

“Aww, nuts…” he said. Sitting there was a small golden chest, it’s base connected by some adhesion to the ceramic. While it wasn’t what he was looking for, it intrigued him nonetheless. He unlatched the little hook that held the cover, and peeled it back to reveal a large silver ring containing a ruby.

“Well that is curious…”

“Look out!” Came the voice from the crowd outside, and Wanderlust’s eyes popped open in alarm.

Smashing through the window above him, a sparkling flare shot into the room, bouncing off the walls like a superball and starting small fires on everything combustible it touched.

Using his magic to create shield, the firework ricocheted above Wanderlust’s head, as he hastily put the box back in the cavity. He was putting the panel back when a few of the towns ponies, rushed in through the front doors, water buckets in their mouths.

For a moment, Wanderlust and the others stared at each other, the firework still bouncing off the walls. In a second, they dropped the pails, their faces angry.

“Hey there! Thief!”

Wheeling around towards the nearest window, Wanderlust threw himself out of the building in a single leap, hit the ground in a roll just as the civilians reached out to him, and took off.

Making sure to glance to the other side of the square, he noticed Trixie had likewise began sprinting down from the stage, another set of enraged locals crying out after her.

She looked over, and seeing where he was heading, made off in the same direction. They converged outside of town at the edge of the forest, disappearing into the woods with a dozen or more ponies forced to skid to a halt before the narrowing brush.

PRESENTLY

“And that’s how we gave them the slip initially. We got a ways into the woods before we felt confident that we had put enough distance between us and them. So, once we got a chance to catch our breath, go over what happened, and have her console me about wasting a month of our lives.

By then it was late in the evening, so we decided to bed down for the night. The skies were clear and the temperature warm, so a nice nap under the stars seemed in order. That was until the morning when…”

THWOONG!

TRIXIEEE!

Trixie screams as they sail over the edge of the cliff and into the river.

Gasping for breath, Wanderlust blew water from his nostrils as he came up for air. A few paces away from him, Trixie also re-surfaced, using her magic to keep from losing her hat.

Between them, a log came drifting along the water, becoming a barrier over which they gave each other tired looks. After a few moments, Wanderlust laid his forelimb on one end, turning it sideways. Trixie took the invitation and climbed onto the driftwood.

“Gonna join me?” she said.

“Naw… I climb up there, I’ll catapult you. I’ll just… relax a bit in the water.” He flung his other foreleg onto the log and hunched over.

Trixie, scrunched her muzzle and she fixed on him, “You know, there are easier ways of going about trying to find this thing instead of acting like a thief.”

“True.” he said without lifting his head from resting on his limb. “But it does need to be done without raising too much attention.”

She scoffed, “You’ve been saying that for years. Frankly, I’m starting to think you’re the only one who cares about that stupid thing.”

Now, Wanderlust tilted his head to give her an inspective look. “Would it matter if I was?”

“I just… I just think you should move on with your life. Maybe it’s not even out there anymore, maybe it’s lost forever. It’s frustrating to watch you waste your life chasing this thing.”

Use the song to guide you with the lyrics, 'cause it might get a little confusing going back and forth between the solos and the harmonies

For a minute or longer they floated along in silence. Giving her companion a sidelong glance, Trixie slid over as far as the center of balance would allow, and stared off into the horizon.
“There are times I think your mission, is a phantom. And your goals in mind are, no offense, askew.”

“None taken.” he muttered.

“Still, whatever mess I land in, who’s always understanding? Nopony else but you.”

Wanderlust cracked a smile, “Well, your attitude is now and then, bewildering. And your magic tricks I‘d say, could use a little work.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“But who deserves my deep affection, in this life that we are destined.
Nopony else but you.”

“No-pony else but you.” They both sang, “It’s just our luck, we’re stuck together. Nopony else but you, it’s crazy enough to believe we’ll come through.”

“So your jokes are older than an Alicorn princess.” She teased him.

“And your ego makes a dragon seem, petite.” He retorted.

“But when I feel life‘s depression, who else can I depend on?” They asked each other.

“If you’re having trouble guessing here’s a clue.” Trixie smiled, poking at his nose with a hoof. “Though he thinks he’s understated, he’s just really antiquated. And he’s nopony else, but-”

“No-pony else but you, we’ve turned into, a true-blue duo. Hard times, we’ve had a few.”

“Like we’re thrown in the drink.” he said, splashing his hoof into the water.

“Like we’re tossed out of town.” she saluted back over her shoulder.

“Hey if I’m gonna sink, then I’d rather go down with nopony else, but, Y-O-Uuuuuuu!”

Wanderlust rolled the log backwards, and Trixie fell into the water next to him.

“Aww really!” She cried, but they both fell into laughter, splashing water at each other as they continued to float on.

Author's Note

Thanks for coming around again, am I the only one who wants a song out of Trixie? I really think her voice actress would knock this one out of the park.

Next time on Tales, a young Thulian prince is getting ready for his big day.

Æclypse- The Agoge: Part 1

Þule
A FEW YEARS BEFORE SOMBRA WENT MAD

Lifting his head to look into the mirror, Æclypse took a long, nervous stare at himself.

He was dressed in his finest robe, blue with gold trim that his mother had personally commissioned and gifted to him on his previous birthday. Letting a breath slowly exhale, he inspected his mane for any hairs out of place, not that he was so vain, but this was not just about him, it was about honoring his family, his kingdom, and their tradition. The golden bracelets that held his mane in order were polished and gleaming, inscribed with Runes that signified a few of the patron gods of his bloodline.

The uneasy feeling in his stomach grew moreso by the hour, tomorrow would be the most important day of his life. The Agoge was the trial by which every stallion in Thule had to pass through, a rite by which he gained entry into his full status as a citizen of the kingdom. Comprised as a series of war games against an equal number of Yaks, who likewise used it as a means to welcome their young warriors into the ranks of adulthood, it was a test of all of one’s skill and strength.

Nopony could circumvent the trial, especially not the nobility. In fact, it was the nobility most of all who had to prove themselves as capable leaders during the event, as they were the ones to whom the rest of the kingdom would look to in the future. For a young stallion to make any open display of shrinking from this duty, or refuse to participate was unheard of, as it would betray his as a coward and almost guarantee his exclusion from the rest of society. No stallion would respect him, and no mare would tolerate such weakness in a husband. There was simply no room for it in Thule.

The wargames themselves consisted of a series of mock battles, each iteration lead by somepony different from the last. The size of each side varied from year to year, depending on the number of young stallions of age, but arrangements were usually made to keep them as even as possible. The Unicorns and the Yaks would take turns in different conditions, whether it be open field formation battle, ambush tactics, capture the flag, or prolonged defense, among other events.

Competition was typically respectful and cordial, but it was common in the heat of battle for tempers to flare and egos to collide. The supervision of elders from both sides helped to ensure fair combat, and adherence to the rules. Much was at stake in the Agoge, pride for the individual warrior, for his chosen warband, and for his kingdom. It also served as a reminder to each side that they remained capable and ready for real battle, thus, ensuring the lasting peace.

Among the Unicorns, each year’s selection was called a warband, a connection that stayed with the participants throughout their lives, bonding them to each other. When the Agoge was concluded, the warband was named after the stallion who had distinguished himself the most among his peers. In previous years, the current king Rubicon had won this honor for himself, and his troop was remembered as ‘Rubicon’s Warband’.

That was for those coming of age. For the older stallions, other series under more flexible guidelines took place, done more for sport and glory then as a sacred rite. It was here that one could secure their status as Thane, the best of the mighty northern warriors. Being a Thane was also the best way for the non-nobles to acquire privilege in Thulian society, many respected bloodlines got their start when an ancestor earned for themselves the rank, including Ultima.

Æclypse, looking at the torc around his neck, reflected on the look in his father’s eyes when he gifted it to him. The King was not known for his outward expressions of emotion, but he could see the pride and love for his first born in his stoic face. Members of his own warband had remained in his company in following years, his two closest comrades, Wiglaf and Iambic Pentameter had become tutors and mentors to Sombra and he.

Swallowing a stone of anxiety he turned his face side-to-side, inspecting for any flaws he might have overlooked. He was canting sideways for a look when there came a knock at he door.

“Come in.” Æclypse bid them.

“You’d be wise not to hassle over yourself all night Æclypse.” Stepping into the room, was an older stallion, dressed in his own fine robes of clean white that hung from his shoulders over beige fur. A bushy, but groomed white beard sprung from his jaw line, and framed a face that was slightly wrinkled and studded by deep brown eyes.

This was Iambic Pentameter, “The others are all waiting to see you.”

“I know, Iambic.” Æclypse greeted him with a respectful nod, “I just want to make them all proud.”

Pentameter walked over and inspected his student, “You give too much thought to tonight. Tomorrow is what you should be more concerned about.”

“You’re right.” Æclypse nodded his head slightly, looking up to his teacher who beamed back proudly.

“Is Sombra down there already? He’s the only pony I can think of who would be more uncomfortable than me down there, he he.”

Pentameter’s eyebrows pitched in the center, “Your brother, actually, has been even more intractable than you. He’s implanted himself in his study.”

“I’ll go talk to him.” walking past Iambic, Æclypse paused at the doorway. “Better me than father I think.”

Sombra had always been his own creature. Ever since we were colts he has set himself apart from the rest of us. Recently he’s become more reclusive, pouring over old books in the library, spending hours alone in study. Father wants to force him out into the world more, but mother tends to coddle him. I think her love prevents her from admitting that her youngest son is troubled.

Coming up to my brother’s room, it struck me that even his door seemed dark and brooding. “Sombra!” I called out, knocking on the iron-bound wood.

“What?!” He angrily called back from within, no doubt I had disturbed something very interesting.

“It is me, will you let me in?”

There was a pause. “Æclypse?” His voice softened to speak my name, realizing that it was not some inconvenient nuisance that had come.

“Yes brother, what are you up too?”

Instead of answering me, I heard the door unlatching, and it drifted open with a moaning creak. I stepped inside, and was immediately confronted by the pungent smell of incense. The room itself was mostly dark, and the smoke from the burning rods wafted along ethereally between the shadows and the dancing light of the candles.

I had not the recent occasion to be in his room often, but I could not recall it being in such an ominous state before. Books and scrolls piled atop one another, laying open, strewn on desks, in stacks, and on the floor. His windows were shuttered, and not even a sliver of the moonlight slithered in from the outside.

Sombra sat curled over in his tall-backed chair, an old tome with ragged edges and tinted corners before him. Surrounded by candles, the way he looked at me was unsettling. The shadows cast by the tiny fires left his face obscured, with only the light of his eyes to peek out. I came close, two or three paces away.

“What is it brother?” He asked me in a low voice, his green iris’ gleaming in the darkness. “Is something the matter?”

“Are you coming down to dinner? Surely mother and father will expect you to be there.”

He didn’t answer me at first, like he was trying to remember what I was talking about.

“Ah… your dinner, that explains the opulent attire. I had forgotten all about it, I’m sorry.”

It became no less unnerving to hear him speak, like some phantasm from a nightmare had engaged me in conversation.

“Not surprising.” I said looking around the room. “I can see you’ve kept yourself occupied.”

“Still…” The book before him was engulfed in his magic and closed shut with a sharp thump. “I should be there for you, this is the eve of your big day. You’ve only a few precious hours before you and Parsifal are neck-deep in battle with the Yaks.”

He stepped out from his corner, and there his face was exposed. Though he carried his head high, I could see the weariness in the wrinkles of his fur. His mane was unkempt and his bangs hung loosely to the side.

“Give me a few minutes to dress myself properly, and I will join you and the others shortly.”

I managed a tight smile, and placed a hoof on his shoulder. “You know it is not for me as much as it is for our family. Next year it will be your turn.”

He seemed to relax a bit, and allowed his lip to curl up. “Can you imagine it brother? Me fighting the yaks?”

“I think you will do better than anypony expects you too.” I told him. I used my magic to light his chandelier before he could object. He was caught off-guard and grunted as he flinched from the sudden illumination.

“Besides, how will you ever catch the eye of Kelda looking like this.”

He gave me an uncomfortable side glance before turning away from me. Kelda was the daughter of another noble family, Sombra’s age, and often enjoyed flirting with him. The attention had not gone unnoticed, and our parents considered the pairing a worthy one.

Marriage for love was not common in Thule, but it did occur. Nobles virtually never married for love, and it was unheard of for royalty. Though that did not mean that couples could not find love for each other. My mother and father were known to be fond of each other, and were thusly betrothed. They have lived a happy marriage ever since. Couplings were either considered worthy or not, and while my father was the prince, my mother came from a very old bloodline, the Carolingians. Many considered my father to be the one marrying up.

“I find that I am vexed by her constant attempts to win my favor.” Sombra growled, breaking away from me. Using his magic to open his wardrobe and sort through his clothes, he continued to vent his frustration.

“I have never returned any of her advances, never given her the slightest wink or smile. Why does she find such amusement in bothering me?”

He spoke the last few words with a flare of anger, tearing a red and gold robe from its hanger.

“Perhaps she finds you handsome?” I teased. “No doubt she is enthralled to some hex.”

Sombra fixed me with suspicious eyes, then tossed a one of his shirts from the closet at me. He began laughing, one of the few times in his adult life I ever heard such a thing.

“If a hex of anypony, then it would be mother’s work no doubt!”

His humor struck me, and I chuckled in turn. “If mother had her way, she’d present you like some champion’s prize to Thule’s noble daughters!”

My brother then proceeded to strut about his room like he was some purebred, throwing his mane back in a tawdry masculine display. Finally he shooed me away with a flapping of the robe he intended to wear. “Leave me to my care, and I will sate their desire to see me squirm.”

“I’ll save you a seat.” I spoke over my shoulder as I exited his room. I felt the door shut behind me once I crossed the threshold, little did I conceive that I had just shared one of the closest moments I would ever have with him.

Steeling my nerve, I made my way down to the revelry. I crossed paths with a few of the household guard, some of whom had known me since I was a colt.

“Everypony’s waiting for you.” Said Nordschild with a smile. He was the Guard captain and another member of my father’s warband. “Take care not to eat too much. It’ll slow you down tomorrow.”

“So Wiglaf has reminded me. He spoke from experience I think.”

A sharp snort was loosed from Nordschild, and he continued to talk through laughter that shook his belly. “He…. He retched on the first charge! Hahahaah!”

That was the first time I had ever heard of that, but I resolved to use it against Wiglaf at some point. I left them and went down the stairs, deciding to take the longer path through the library. The portrait of Princess Platinum hung under the apex at the western side. It was one of my favorite paintings in the whole castle, and one that I always spent a minute or two with whenever I went there to study. She looked down on visitors with a soft expression, her delicate neck surrounded by the fur trimmed purple gown. A pale lavender mane cradled her lovely face, and a necklace bejeweled with matching blue gems hugged against her fur.

I would have liked to have known her. She was remembered fondly in Thule for her bravery, the journey she undertook with Clover the Clever put an end to the Great Winter. She lived in a time long before the Agoge, before even the great war of King Thalamar. The old order had been upset by the Windigos, and she knew that a new path forward would be their only salvation. She served as an inspiration thereafter, though she never again set hoof on the soil of her birthright. I wondered what she might have thought of our violent ritual.

No pony had been so pivotal in Unicorn history since Vortigern, but that was much before her time.

I offered the immortal princess my usual nod, and proceeded through the doors to her right. Stepping out into the hallway that led to a side door in the Thronehall, I could hear the voices of the others, laughter and conversation filling the air with a warm echo of merriment. Their shadows danced on the wall like marionettes stretching up along the masonry.

“There you are cousin!” I heard a voice cry from behind me. Farther down in the hall, Parsifal cantered to my side, his face relieved to see me.

“I’ve had a dreadful time trying to keep them all entertained. I’ve already run out of that joke I know.” He said with a wink.

Parsifal was my cousin on mother’s side, and my best friend. We had grown up together, and tomorrow we would both face the Agoge. We would not just be friends and cousins, we would be warbound. That night he wore his own finery, a straw-gold robe, and a pendant given to him by his parents. Most never thought of Parsifal as a serious pony, as he could usually be found in the company of mares, or engaged in poetry or music. But I knew that he had a very genuine heart, possessed of a great love for his home, and dreamed of serving Thule with honor.

His wit always found purchase with me, and I gave way to a fit of chuckling.

“Surely then, you have left a few of them left standing for me.”

He joined in the mirth. Though we had our different characters, our friendship seemed a natural fit. I was much more the reserved type, like my father. He however was outgoing, charming, a magnet for attention. But in one another we found a balance, our families were happy to think that the future of the kingdom was going to be in good hooves.

“Seriously Æclypse, tomorrow is the biggest day of our lives.” His demeanor straightened, and he looked at me with a slight glint of trepidation.

“You know that battle has never been my strong suit as it has been yours, I ah… I worry that I may not appear as gallant as I should tomorrow.” He tried to make it sound joking, but I could hear the doubt in his voice.

It was true, combat was one of the areas that he was lacking. I had grown up with the training of Wiglaf and my father, and no small amount of personal talent. Parsifal’s upbringing had been more aristocratic.

“Fear not my friend.” I told him. “Stick by me, and together we shall do our families and Thule proud.”

He nodded his head with a newfound confidence. “That we will.”

The sounds of the party beckoned to us, and we moved into the hall without further distraction. Whereupon we were greeted with cheers.

Author's Note

Thanks for taking another look at Tales of the Unforgiven!

This is the first part of the Thulian prince's ritual journey into adulthood, join him as he and Parsifal go through the trials against the young warriors of Yak-Yakistan.

Upcoming: Wanderlust makes some strange new friends when he's put in a very awkward position by an even stranger villain.

Future chapters for Celestia, Luna, and Sombra!

Thulian Cosmology

Creation 1
“In the beginning, darkness covered the land, and the great beasts roamed freely.

In the beginning, light shone in the heavens, and the three great steeds were but twinkles far away.

At first the great steeds did not know of the land, and for many ages went on in darkness and coldness.

But when they at last discovered it, they desired to bring their light upon it.

The monsters of wrath shook the land with their battles, and war was upon the face of the earth.

For many ages thence, light and darkness struggled.

The three great steeds pushed back the darkness into the depths of the earth.

They saw the land was barren, and desired to bring forth life unto the earth.

First, Valkyrion created the rain, and brought forth rivers, lakes and oceans.

Sleipnir created the mountains and the valleys, and brought forth growing things.

Kerannus created a light in the sky, to shine upon their work and give warmth to living things.

Then, Sleipnir set the elements to form beings of living things; Valkyrion set into these forms the breath of life; and Kerannus set into them the spark of mind.

The three great steeds looked upon their creation, and saw that it was good.

The great steeds were filled with love for their creation, and that love shone unto all things; and all things in their creation was filled with love.

And the great steeds blessed them, saying: “Be fruitful and multiply, fill the waters and the seas, the skies and the earth.”

But darkness remained in the pits of the earth, and was jealous of all things that moved in the light.

The great beasts fell upon the living beings, and began a great slaughter.

Other beasts convinced a lesser part of the living beings to become creatures of darkness, twisting their forms.

The great steeds saw what the beasts had done, and once more filled the land with war.

The greater beasts of darkness were cast into the outer beyond, while lesser beasts were imprisoned in the earth.

Some darkness remained, for the living things needed rest and grew weary of too much light.

Sleipnir and Kerannus took from the earth, and created the moon.

Valkyrion set the moon in the sky for half the day, a light to keep the beasts away in the darker hours.

The three great steeds saw their creation, and said: “Let us create beings in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the land and the sea and the sky.”

And so Sleipnir formed the first ponies out of clay, Valkyrion gave them the breath of life, and Kerannus, after seeing them in their own form, gave them the spark of mind, and light of soul.

In male and female, in Pegasus, Unicorn, and Earth Pony, they were created.

And the great steeds blessed them, saying: “Be fruitful and multiply, and replenish the earth and live in harmony with it.”

And the great steeds saw everything they had made, and beheld that it was very good.”

“What does that mean?”

With pale mane and beige fur, King Rubicon looked down to his two little sons, Æclypse and Sombra, who sat on the rug staring up at him. It was Sombra who had asked the question, Sombra who was always curious.

“What does what mean, my son?”

The little gears turned in Sombra mind as he formulated what he wanted to say.
“That it was very good. What does that mean?”

“Well.” Rubicon began, closing the ancient tome on his lap and reclining in his seat. “It means that the great steeds liked what they saw going on, they were satisfied in their creation.”

This was one of the few times that the young brothers had been invited into their parents chambers. Rubicon felt it more appropriate as a father to handle this sort of education himself, instead of entrusting it to others. That time would come shortly when his sons were a little older. For now, it was his duty to teach his children in the ways of their heritage and wisdom.

“Any other questions before we continue?”

He saw the eyes of his eldest widen a bit. “Yes, Æclypse?”

“Um…” The little one started. “Where did all the darkness go?”

“Good question. You see, many of the great dark beasts were banished from the earth forever. But, there are some that remained, buried deep down. It is these creatures of the darkness my sons, that we must be ever vigilant against. The Windigos were some of them, which came back for a time during the struggle of the tribes. Thule, and all ponies must be on their guard not to let the beasts of darkness return.”

“Where are the great steeds now, Father?” Growing more interested, Sombra nudged closer. “Did they leave us? Will they ever come back?”

“It is said that the great steeds left the earth, and now watch over us from the skies. They created the world for us, not for themselves, and if they had stayed we would not live as free as we do. As for if they’ll ever come back, my father told me that one or all of them do visit us from time to time. Either in times of great need, or to meet one of us who is special enough to peak their interest. Personally, I think they created the Alicorns, so that we would have guardians among us.”

“What did they look like?” Æclypse asked.

“Like us, for the most part, only much more splendid. Valkyrion was the creator of the Pegasus, and had great wings of every color. Sleipnir was the creator of Earth Ponies, with eight-legs, he lent to them his great strength. Kerannus, creator of we Unicorns, it is said swung his horn like a spear, and was the source of our magic.”

Sombra pinched his brow, “If they were so good, why didn’t they wipe out all the dark beasts for good?”

Rubicon began with some difficulty. It was a question that had been argued about for as long as anypony could remember. It was difficult to reconcile the benevolent creators with the reality of darkness and evil in the world.

“Nopony knows for certain my son. But I will tell you that it is because the great steeds are creators, and it is not in their nature to destroy. Thus, the darkness will always be with us, and so will the light.”

“Father?” Æclypse chimed. “If they created the sun and moon, why do the Alicorn’s have to move them?”

The king opened his mouth to speak, but found the words would not come forth. He thought a moment, putting a hoof to his chin.

“Before the Alicorns, it was we unicorns who moved the heavens.”

“Before that?” His son pressed.

“Before that… I’m not sure anypony knows. Perhaps the answer you seek lies somewhere in the older archives.”

“Down in the chambers underneath the castle?”

“Yes.” Rubicon took the book in his magic, and placed it gently on the bed behind him. “There are many books and scrolls down there from long ago. Longer even than the time of Princess Platinum, longer even than the mighty Vortigern. I should make a point to inquire into such matters with Iambic.”

Rising from his seat, The king stretched his back and gestured to his sons to follow him.

“Come now, dinner should almost be on the table. We’ll continue tomorrow evening.”

Their father was a giant compared to them. Not brawny like some of the other stallions, but tall, with a noble poise. The red cloak that hung over his barrel, trimmed with gold tasseling, was impeccably cared for.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to see any of the dark beasts father?” Sombra asked.

Stopping in his tracks, Rubicon took a long breath, and craned his head around to them.

“Everypony meets one of the dark beasts. For there was one of the creatures of darkness that the great steeds could not defeat, one that stood immobile when all others retreated.”

Captivated, Æclypse let his words fall from his mouth with a quiver. “Which one?”

This was a lesson that Rubicon had wanted to hold off on, until they were a bit more mature. But, they had asked, and he would not lie to them about it. Gazing into his son’s eyes, he conjured the name of the dark beast that eventually would overcome every opponent.

“Death.” He answered.

The image of the family in the hall shimmered and blurred away into dissipation. In it’s place, Prince Æclypse the Valiant stood, watching the memory fade.

“Fascinating.” Luna said to him. Around the two the stellar vista of the dreamscape rolled on gracefully, a pathway of soft light under their hooves.

“I had no idea you possessed such a rich lore about Equestria.”

“I’m sure the other tribes have their own version of things.” The prince remarked as he and the princess walked along the floating road. He tried to think of other examples, but he had not studied much Pegasai or Earth Pony lore.

“A little different, but all three rivers flowing from a common spring I have no doubt.”

Luna lowered her head in unhappy thoughts. “Our tutors never spent much time explaining things like that to us. They seemed more curious as to our own origin.”

“It is hard to blame them, isn’t it?” Æclypse glanced at her sidelong. “Yourself and Celestia are remarkable creatures. It would not surprise me in the least if you truly were the craft of the gods.”

Sparing him a begrudging smile, Luna flicked her mane back as she raised up. “You say such sweet things my prince, but I would not wish it so. I tire of being so different from everypony else.”

“Your sister seems to wear it well.”

“She has little choice in the matter. The citizens adore her so, no matter how distant she keeps herself.”

A shooting star passed by over their heads, a sign that somewhere in the world, a new mind had just been created as Luna had told him.

“So not even you know of how you came to be?” He asked.

“The circumstances of our birth are as much a mystery to Celestia and I as they are to you. My mind often wonders about it.”

“Well… No matter where you come from, you are here now. And that is what matters to Equestria.”

He skipped a beat before adding: “And that is what matters to me.”

Luna felt her breath catch in her throat. She blushed, and leaned a little closer to Æclypse.

Author's Note

Thanks for coming around. This was something that was rattling around in my head for a while. You never know where some of these elements are going to pop-up!

Æclypse- The Sellsword [part 1]

The first time I ever saw a griffin, it tried to tear my throat out.

After my exile from Thule and Equestria, I wandered to the east coast of the continent, where I found passage to lands across the sea. I had taken with me a goodly portion of my personal treasure, and at the Northern Straits in the northwest corner of Equestria, it was not difficult to find a ferrymane willing to take me across.

“Come a long way to go nowhere.” He said to me as he took my coin. At the time there was not much by way of civilization that far north, save for scattered small settlements and homesteads on the fringes of habitable earth. Dressed as I was in a thick cloak that covered my body and hooded my head, I was hardly an out of sight thing to be found in this place.

“And I’ve got far longer to go.” Was my reply. We crossed the water in silence, brooding under my cloak through the mist that hovered thick above the surface. The Pegasus guided the boat through the fog by memory, gripping the stern and peering keenly.

At the shore he bid me farewell, and I continued my journey in whatever direction whim and chance took me. For some weeks I traveled, sleeping where it suited me, and keeping my solitude generally unbroken. I had not bathed, I had not groomed, I had not rested a whole night through since I left the gates of my home.

When I entered the village of Yardling, I was struck by the poverty of it. The town consisted of little more than a collection of hoof-built houses, for which the term shack might have been more apt. About 20 families inhabited them, farmers, a few craft workers, all of them living to subsistence but making a noble effort to better things. A mill churned on the river the coasted by the western side, the pinnacle of the equipment to be found.

Instead of just one type of pony, I found a fair number of all three tribes living together. I even saw a few mixed couples, something that never happened in Thule. Being a noticeable stranger, I garnered stares and whispered speculations as I walked through, mothers held their foals a little closer.

I felt not the need to make myself a bother to them, and intended to be on my way quickly. It had begun to rain earlier, and by then puddles littered the streets. Going past a shack that sold about a dozen pieces of vegetables, the Earth Pony mare behind the counter ducked down to hide behind when I turned to look at her.

“Why do you hide from me?” I spoke, stopping. “Why do I frighten you so?”

“Please stranger,” She quivered, “Please do not rob us, we have so little as it is.”

“Rob you?” The notion wounded me, that I would prey on these humble folk. “You have never met me before, what makes you think I’m here to steal from you?”

She peeked her face up just barely enough to get a look at me. “We have had to live with raiders the past few months. They come and they threaten us into giving them food and coin.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but why would you think I have anything to do with them?”

“They come in cloaks, like the kind you wear now.” Coming out fully, I saw that she wore a tan scarf around her head, a mess of blond mane framed a pale blue face. “I do not mean to offend, but we have all been so terrified of their return.”

For a few moments I stared back at her, debating whether or not to inquire further about the raiders. Extracting a few bits from my satchel that hid under my cloak, I tossed them on the counter and picked-up an apple from where it sat among the other produce.

“Thank you.” She said sweetly as I left her behind.

I spent the night in the hillsides that overlooked the village, making a shelter for myself under the numerous pine trees that grew there. It continued to drizzle into the evening, so I was soon accompanied by a small fire to keep me warm in the night chill. I skewered the apple on a sharpened stick, and let it roast a bit, like my mentor Wiglaf had done so often while we camped for training.

What would become of me now if I had chosen a less hearty lifestyle? As a prince I could have chosen more comfortable pastimes than leading warriors into battle. But as much as my heart longed for poetry and philosophy, I knew that I could not be the King of Thule without hardening myself to combat and climate. Not that I would be king of anything now.

Taking a bite, I let the warm juices flow down my chin as I watched the trails of smoke rising from the homes of the ponies below. Here and there one could see the light of the hearths in the windows, and I imagined the small families with next to nothing gathered together. Growing up as I did in a castle, surrounded by the wealth of my heritage, it made me think about the folk in Equestria’s southern lands, and how they got along in their daily lives.

Was I too stubborn, I wondered, when Celestia tried to break through my pride, and see the virtues of how she governed the lowlands? Perhaps that effort was the fault of my own visions of a greater future for Thule, perhaps she thought I was going to be different from my fathers.

Perhaps she should have left well enough alone.

I was settling down on my side when I heard a commotion. Trotting through the trees, there was below me on the outer rim of the village, a farm. What looked to be a single room dwelling surrounded by a fence with space for gardens, was under the moonlight a scene of trouble.

“No! Please!” I head a stallion yell. Taking cover in some brush that overlooked the situation, I saw an Earth Pony being dragged out of his home by a large cloaked figure. What I presumed to be his wife and child hovered in the doorway, watching on in despondency.

“Don’t take our bits! Without them we will starve!” The father of the family clung to the rear leg of whoever the disguised figure was, as he made to join a comrade who waited at the fence.

“Bugger off!” The mystery raider barked, kicking the stallion in the jaw and knocking him off.
“You’re lucky we’re only taking your few skinny bits! Next time we might decide to take something a lot more precious to you!”

I was too far away to discern much detail, but even a that, I could see the mother instinctively pulling her foal in-between her legs for protection. My eyes narrowed and my hoof ground into the dirt as I considered what the threat entailed.

The thief joined his companion and together they scampered off into the woodline, snickering and frolicking like it was all just a fun game. Back at the farm, the father of a general pale blue complexion resigned himself to lay miserably in the mud, defeated and humiliated in front of his family. The wife came out to him, never minding the rain that soaked her mane, and helped him to stand. His head continued to hang down.

It was then I resolved that this would be a long night.

Extinguishing my fire, I set out to track the thieves, starting where they had entered the wood, and tracking them from there. I fell back onto the training I had received from Wiglaf, and Nordschild, how to track a quarry and move quietly about it. For over and hour I had to work, cursing myself for wasting the time to go back to my camp. Fortunately, the damp ground betrayed their tracks, and I was able to use a soft light from my horn to follow them.

The temperature drop had not faltered, and the longer I searched the more soaked and chilled it made me. But I was determined not to let these arselings get away with their crime, and thanked the gods for being born a son of Thule.

At last the tracks came to an end, which did not please me in the slightest, for they had stopped rather abruptly in the middle of nowhere. I glanced about, my breath rising from my muzzle like smoke from a dragon’s, wafting in the soft breeze. I tried to think of any fault I may have made, and worried that I had not just lost them, but that I had blundered into an unknown forest and lost myself.

A few of the stars were visible to me through the clouds, and as best I could, orientated myself to the constellations. I knew I had gone east to arrive here, and only needed to detect a westerly direction to save me. Had I misjudged a trail? Was I now only a few steps away from where the tracks began anew?

I was about to try my luck, when something dropped down on top of me. The sound of flapping wings and a bewildering amount of motion confounded my senses, causing the attacker and I to tussle through the bushes for several paces. I felt sharp claws latch onto my throat as we came to a stop, I on my back and my assailant astraddle me. A piercing cry filled my ears, and at last I realized why I had lost the trail.

For the first time in my life, I was meeting a griffin. Suddenly the tales of Thule’s alliance with the Pegasus against them were legend no more.

“You shoudn’a come into our woods big fella.” He muttered. “’Cause now I’m gonna hafta- GUNF!”

I struck him in the beak with a fore-hoof, knocking him off. Reflexively I rolled onto my hooves, keeping low. Behind me, I head the rustle of branches, and turned just in time to see his partner descend from the boughs, talons poised to attack.

Without hesitation I fired a blast of magic at him, and while he was able to roll out of the way, he took the brunt of the larger second shot full in his chest. The first lesson of fighting an opponent faster than you, is to make them go where you want them.

The second griffon was thrown back into the trunk of a tree, where he smacked against it with a bone-crunching thud. The old books spoke of their light frame that allowed them to be such agile fliers. He fell to the ground in a heap.

Returning to the one who had pounced on me, I brought a hoof down on one of his talons, grinding it with a stomp. He screamed, and it was then I noticed the pouch tied to the belt of his cloak. I took it away with my magic, and pinned him down on his back.

“You will leave these ponies alone.” I growled. “Or I will pry your wings off and beat you senseless with them.”

He looked up at me, and our eyes met. In another time in my life, I might actually be curious to learn more about him, how their society worked, if they all looked the same. But in the heat of the moment, with my heart pumping and my fury kindled, I had no more care for my first encounter with his kind other than to instill the fear of the gods into him.

I don’t think he quite knew what to say, because the look in his face was that of disbelief, like no pony had ever talked to him like that. Of course, no pony probably ever had. Putting a hoof on his chest, I let him feel the weight behind it press down on him, and I felt his ribcage bend.

“Alright! Alright!” He cried. “I get the point!”

“See that you do.” Taking my hoof off, I released him from my magic. “Go collect your friend and scurry back to your roost.”

He scrambled over without another word, and slung the other one onto his back, carrying him off to wherever they nested. As my palpitations slowed, the sting of where the talons had pricked my neck was distracting. I was reminded how in the stories, the griffins had worn steel talons in battle, to rip and tear into the armor of their opponents. I’d hate to imagine what that kind of carnage must have looked like up close.

It was a short while until I returned to the village, all were well asleep by now. I slid carefully up to the farm from earlier, and found that the door was locked tight. At my testing of the latch, I heard a few stifled noises from inside, hushes and things being moved.

“Hearken then.” I said in a low, calm voice. “Wait a minute, then come to the door, where you shall receive what was stolen from you.”

I put down the coin purse I recovered from the griffin, adding to it a few of my own bits, and placed it in the crevice where the door met the frame. I backed away until I was at the gate, then turned and trotted of into the woods.
Returning to the place where I had watched from before, I caught the moment when the door cracked ajar, the bag was grasped, and the door quickly shut.

I allowed a tight smile to break my steadfast misery, believing I had done a good deed. The campsite was undisturbed in my absence, and after a little work the fire was rekindled. Night had been cut in half by my little excursion, but I was satisfied with the compromise. For a minute or two I stared up at the stars, thinking about how far I had come, and whose other eyes might be looking up to them. Briefly, in my heart, I felt as though she were doing the same thing I was, after all, it was her duty. Nestling into the roots of a tree, sleep found me quickly.

It would make for a fine story, if I told you that I awoke in the morning to the rousing call of some great task, or in mysterious communion with the gods. Alas, I awoke the next morning to an itch that covered my backside and nearly drove me into a fit.

Ants, I discovered, infested the fur of my back, making a home for themselves inside my cloak. I tore it away and threw myself to the ground like a worm and writhed in irritation, groaning and whimpering. The better part of an hour passed by before I managed to make the sensation bearable, and came to the conclusion that I may not have made such an inviting host if I had simply bathed in the past few weeks.

Taking my cloak in magic, I headed down to where the river exited the hills, and jumped into the water, cloak and all. I scrubbed both my garment and myself on the stones, washing grime and the small biting insects out of us. To be immersed in the clear, cool stream again was invigorating, a reminder of similar times in Thule.

I finished my bath and hung the cloak on a branch back at camp to dry. As for myself, I shook out as much I could and let the rest air dry. A noise from my gut told me that it demanded to be fed, and I was of a mind to agree.

Like my journey over the water, a layer of fog stood over the forest floor, creating an eerie landscape as I searched my surroundings for any thing that might be edible. The rain had ceased while I had slept, and while the ground was muddy, the clear sky let Celestia’s sun reach everything with it’s warming rays. Some berry bushes were a pleasant find, as was a surprisingly sweet grouping of blue flowers.

My habit of late would have me moving on my way from here, simply continuing my exile along the road. But I was still curious as to the state of the village, and perhaps seeing me without the cloak would endear me to them slightly. So I decided to head back down, and perhaps learn something of the area. If nothing else I could purchase some more provisions for the road.

The scream of a child, shrill and piercing turned my head around. It had come from the town, cutting through the fog like an arrow. I raced back to my overlook and discovered the village in tumult.

From every house and hut, cloaked griffins were herding the ponies into the center square at spear point. Tossing them out of their homes and into the muddy streets, what looked like 30 of the gang had them surrounded.

It dawned on me that this must be some kind of reprisal for what I had done to the two last night. My arrogance to act without forethought put these innocent ponies in danger, all this strife was my fault.

“Go on! Get moving!” One of the beaked brigands screeched. Under the clear day they dropped the hoods, revealing their avian crowns. The one who had given the order had the look of a raptor, a short sharp beak snapping at their hocks. “Into the center!”

The centerpiece of the village square was a simple well for bringing up ground water. Perched on the little roof that protected it, was their leader I surmised by the way he watched all the others at their work. Charcoal feathers and fur, and the more pronounced beak of a scavenger, he sat with his head nestled into his shoulders glancing side to side.

I moved from where I was, sliding down the hillside and moving to cover behind a small house to peer around the corner. All the griffons having driven the towns ponies into a crowd around the well, they perched on the rooftops and other high-spots to keep watch on them.

The leader stretched his neck upwards, giving the impression of an ominous figure looming over them.
“It seems we have a bit of a problem.” He said, as calmly as if he were remarking on the weather.
“Somepony…. Took it upon themselves to have a bit of a row with a few of my boys last night. Seems they disagreed with their method of extracting tribute. Now, I told you ponies once before, thinking it would be enough, that we will never tolerate you striking back at one of our flock. It appears I was wrong however, and that you need an example of what happens when you decide to upset the natural order!”

The dark griffin leapt from his perch, and seized an adolescent mare in his talons and taking her into the air in a single swoop. The crowd reacted in horror, and a few of them had to hold back a unicorn stallion who tried to reach out to her. His daughter, apparently, shook like a leaf in the wind, hooves over her eyes, she squealed and sobbed.

“Pay very close attention!” The leader squawked from where he flapped in place a dozen and a half paces above the ground, directly over the pointed roof of the well.
“And let this be a lesson to any more ponies who think they can stand up to us!”

When the griffin released her, my perception of time slowed to a crawl. I am not certain why this occurs in certain conditions, perhaps it’s the adrenaline focusing the mind to stimuli, perhaps there’s some mechanism of the gods at work. Whatever the case may be, my body moved absent my command, my mind locked on the girl. Her eyes popped open, and seeing her fate below, screamed. The ponies gasped in shock, even her father too stunned to react in time.

And I realized there was no way I could get to her in time.

Author's Note

What has Æclypse done? Has he made a mistake that somepony else is paying for? I don't think these ponies wanted a hero.

Æclypse- The Sellsword [part 2]

As I watched the little girl plummet, I realized I could not save her in time. Not first-hoof anyways. I cast my magic in stride, reaching out as far as I could, the veins in my neck straining with the effort.

Coming to within inches of the well’s roof, the little pink furred and golden maned filly came to a sudden stop. I heard a gasp go up from the crowd, the sight of her suspended in the air taking them all by surprise.

Cloaked in the white nimbus of my magic, the girl opened her eyes and looked to see how close she had come to an early doom. Tears dripping down the rest of the way to splatter across the rough planks, she swallowed a hard lump.

I walked forward, keeping my concentration on the girl, carrying her back to the waiting arms of her father, who seized her with both hooves and clutched her to his breast.

None of the griffin had made a move to stop me or interfere with what I had done. Instead they watched me carefully, perhaps just as stunned by my actions as the villagers were. Indeed, the whole of the audience remained silent as stone, the only sound my approaching hoof steps.

“Well what do we have ‘ere?” The leader asked, marveling at me like he was seeing a new breed of pony for the first time. Coming this close to him I could discern the finer details of this petty tyrant. His dark plumage came to an end at the base of his neck, beyond which was bare. His skin was fleshy and pockmarked, ruddy in hue. His beak was black, marred with scratches and dents. I could also tell that he was old, he carried the poise of experience, and his eyes gleamed with a sinister fierceness.

“I am the one you seek.” I said, standing in plain sight for all to see. “I am the one who waylaid your plunderers, and I acted without the knowledge of any of these villagers.”

The ringleader glanced about, considering I suppose whether or not he believed that none of the other ponies were involved.
“You know… I’m inclined to be believe you. None of these wretched sods ever had the guts to raise a hoof anyways.”

From the corner of my eye I noticed the activity along the rooftops, the other griffins moving in to position around me, preparing to strike from above. There was no way I could fight my way past all of them, I’d be torn to shreds by the sheer numbers.
“Whatever revenge you have in mind, you may try to extract it from me if you can.”

My offer seemed to amuse the griffins, a chuckle spreading through their ranks like a wave. The leader smiled, and nodded his head.
“Fair enough. Rip him up boys.”

At once, the air above me darkened under the amassed span of the descending wings, my ears assailed by the warcries. My only chance to escape with my life was to deny them the chance to bring their numbers to bear, complicated by the fact that they operated in three dimensions of movement, whilst I was mostly limited to two. I dashed backwards, throwing a blast of magic as I did that caught one of them in the left wing. I heard a yelp of pain, but did not linger long enough to see the extent of the damage done.

I made for the trees, both to splinter their pursuant forces and lure them away from the villagers. Even at full sprint I was not fast enough to outpace fliers of their natural skill, and the early advantage of my surprise was quickly spent. On the ground I could see the shadow of broad wings eclipsing my own, I had to time my reaction perfectly.

Launching forward, I twisted my body around to face the raptor, again, the perception of time slowing to a crawl. True to my instinct, he was not but a legs-reach away from me. I fired a point-blank blast of magic square into his chest, before coming all the way around to land on my hooves once more. The scream of my pursuer faded into the distance as I entered the woodline, sharp curses in the guttural language of the griffins echoing off the trees.

The run had exhilarated my heart, adrenaline and lust for battle coursing through my blood and narrowing my focus. I stopped and turned to face my hunters, horn glowing. And upon seeing no less than ten of them working their way through the trees, steeled myself much the same way I had during my first Agoge. For a moment I could once more see the menacing outline of a dozen young and hot-blooded Yak warriors, who like me, were hoping to gain glory and renown.

But for these griffins, concerning me were no notions of glory or acclaim, only the desire to avenge their comrades and pick the meat from my bones.

The first one came in talons first, crashing into a translucent shield that he failed to see until it was too late. His body crumpled against my protection spell, forelegs folding up and his beak glancing to one side until his head hit with a thump. With a pathetic groan he slid downwards, tongue lolling from the side of his beak.

I dropped the shield, inviting the nearest ones to advance. I had to engage them as quickly as possible, before more arrived and overwhelmed me. Two were closest, bounding off the trees to my right and left in design to flank me from either. The ground beneath me was still wet from the overnight rain, puddles of brown water forming in the depressions of my hoof prints. I slashed my magic into the mud, driving up a wash of muck that caught the griffin on my right across the face, blinding him with a screech.

Towards the other I whipped ‘round to find almost upon me, and struck him in the gut with a concussive blast from my horn and sent him crashing into a tree trunk. The griffin I had blinded with mud scraped to clear his face, and never saw me leaping up to tackle him to the ground. Landing atop him, I battered his head with blows from my hoof, fighting through the claws as they lashed out in desperation. With one good crack across his left eye, his forelegs went limp and fell to his side.

I was still astraddle him when talons dug into my shoulders and pulled me off my hooves. Again I reacted with a beam of magic, this time swapping heat for force. He began to writhe and screech, the acrid stench of his feathers beginning to burn in my nose.

In his craze I was released, but not before another griffin wrapped his claws around my hind legs, dropping me onto my face in the muck. The rocks and pebbled exposed by the rain met my cheek without give, and I felt my skin split under the cushion of fur. My new attacker reach up and stabbed his talons into my back, more as a means to stabilize himself than to torture me I suspected by the sound of his paws floundering behind. I cried out sharply, and kicked out with my legs to fend him off.

Together we started to wrestle in the mud, he scrambling over me as I tried to twist away.
“I’m gonna rip your gizzards out!” He snarled.

His comrade, still reeking of burnt feather, came down with his beak to peck for my eyes. When he lunged I seized him about the neck and held tight. I was able to wrench him down and maneuver his body over mine as a shield from the other, pinning him against me. The one in my hold gagged for breath, his windpipe being crushed with every second.
It was clear that these raiders had no experience combating a capable unicorn, much less one of the hardened, trained warriors of Thule. At last I caught the other with a clean kick to the jaw, and he retreated. With my lower body freed, I rolled my captive onto his belly and, letting go of his neck, stomped down on the limb of his right wing. The bone snapped with a sickening crack, and he could do naught else but wail like a banshee.

On my hooves again, I rammed my body into the other one while he still reeled from the kick, driving him into a tree hard enough to crush the breath out of him. Before he could recover, I bashed the side of his skull with my forehead, and he slumped to the dirt.

Like wild beasts, the cries of the other griffins howled in the forest. I had little care to entertain another round of their claws, the series of gashes along my back sensitive even to the light breeze. I was sure that the bloody rakes would soon take on an impurity if they were not properly cleaned.

I thought to lose the rest of them in the hills. Even in the daylight the canopy was thick enough to block out most of the rays, leaving the forest floor in a shaded veil. The thick bush created a difficulty for me, in that I was unaccustomed to moving through such dense greenery. Thule had forested areas, but nothing so lush with growing life as this. Coming across a path that cut through the dale, I dashed along it for a few dozen paces before jumping off to the side, leaving no hint of which way in the prints.

Much to my wonder, the forest grew even thicker, as if no pony had even tread hoof in this part. An untouched primeval growth. The sounds of the pursuing griffins long behind me, I stepped curiously through, marveling at a state of nature I had never imagined existed. There were the sounds of birds, and the sweet scent of the plants, beneath my hooves was rich dark soil. I began to feel shameful for contaminating such pristine life by my presence, indeed the very air filled me with a sense of being somewhere I did not belong.

I came unto a pool of water, several paces wide but shallow, so that I could see the grass growing under the clear surface. A lone beam of light shone down to the center, where an island of a young tree grew, branches reaching out towards it like a child to their parent.

The fight and the chase had left me parched, and the temptation to quench my thirst in the unadulterated bath was beyond my constitution to resist. Kneeling down at the edge, into the soft blades, I lapped a few savory mouthfuls. The sensation on my tongue was as if I had never tasted water before in my life, so crisp and clean it was. Immediately I was intoxicated by its purity, a spirit of renewal strengthening my flesh and bones as it infused into every fiber.

It was hard to pull myself away, and would have drunk until my stomach touched the ground had not a queer sound shattered the tranquility. A creaking of wood, like old floorboards under heavy step roused my attention, and lifting my gaze, found a sight both astonishing and terrifying.

The tree in the center of the pond, that I had thought merely a sapling fortunate enough to seed in this haven, was turning towards me. The side that had been turned away from me revealed a face as it came around. One might think it a carven image, but there was a smooth complexion to it that left no doubt of being a natural design. It was like that unto a pony but textured with the grain and roughness of a tree stripped of bark. Rising from it’s forehead was a pair of forked branches sporting a trio of green leaves at each tip.

Its eyes however, its eyes were glowing ovals of an ethereal viridian, lacking both pupils and irises.

I backed away slowly, never looking away, daring not to put it out of my sight for fear of it springing upon me from a blindside. Though as it leveled its own attention to me, it made no move towards, took no hostile posture. Instead the creature lowered its forelegs to the ground, slipping into the water without making a splash, and was about my height. It examined me curiously, tilting its head this way and that. It seemed to grasp my apprehension.
“Hello.” The creature spoke, its voice not unlike a young mare. “Why are ye afraid?”

“I have never seen your like before.” I said, keeping two paces distance between us. “What are you?”

“My name is Dail Lachar, I am a Spriggan. Have ye n’er heard of my kind before?” The more it spoke the more I noticed the melodic quality of its speech, more like a poem than a conversation.

“Nay.” I replied. “I am a foreigner to this land, a traveler. Where I am from, my kinfolk have no tales of Spriggans.”

“Oh.” The news appeared to dismay her, as I decided, for it sounded feminine. But then she became excited with interest. “A foreigner ye say? Does that mean ye'er from across the Anhygoel? The salt water?”

I became less fearful of it, but no less wary. I stayed where I was, and relaxed myself. “Yes, I come from a land far to the west. Across the sea and across the mountains, a place called Thule.”

“My rhiant says there were once spriggans across the Anhygoel, to the east and west, but long has it been since we heard any news of them.” Dail thought to take a step forward, but held back. “I have given ye my name stranger, will ye not tell me ye'ers?”

“My name is Æclypse, of the Ultima bloodline, and I once bore many great and noble titles. Now I bear only one, The Unforgiven.”

“Ponies have very odd names. At least that is what my rhiant always says. But I have ne’er spoken to many ponies, so maybe ye'ers is not quite strange in the manner of pony.”

“Your rhiant?” I had understood none of Dail’s native language, but my mentor Iambic Pentameter had put a love of knowledge in me, and I was intrigued to learn what she would tell me of her culture.

“My parent, the one from whose seed did I grow. Huh! Do ponies not have a rhiant? How do ye spawn from one to another?” Her head was trust forward in preplexion, as mystified by me as I was she.

“Well…” I began but hesitated, as it occurred to me what I was about to explain. “You see ponies have two parents. It is their combined efforts that produce a child that is the blood and flesh of both.”

“How strange indeed!” Dail exclaimed with amazement. “My friends shall never believe me. Tell me further, Æclypse, what brings ye into our forest?”

I had no intention of retelling her my entire story of exile, and told her simply that I was journeying eastward, and came upon the village of Yardling, and then of the troubles I discovered with the griffins. When I began to tell her of my rescue of the filly and my fight with the raiders, her expression morphed from transfixed to such a wrathful grimace that I was again reminded of my earlier fear.

“Plunderers and killers!” Dail cried out, voice more of a growl. Indeed, there was a change in the tint of her eyes, becoming a baleful maroon color. “They would do well to stay clear of our forest! ‘Ere they find themselves twisted and broken amidst our roots!”

But I was not so fervent in my resolve. “I fear I have only worsened the villagers situation. What extortion, what retribution will that fiend impose upon them? They possess so little already, what more can they be forced to sacrifice?”

“Whatever they now face, they are fortunate to have such a pony as the Unforgiven Æclypse as their ally.”

“I don’t know what more I can do for them, that I should not bring more ruin and misery upon their heads.” Kneeling down in the thick grass, I set my head to lay over my forelegs, and taking a scoop of water in my magic, began to wash my wounds. “This place is not my land, these not my kinfolk. Whether grief or prosperity befall them is none of my concern.”

“Oh but it is ye'er concern.” The Spriggan walked out of the water and went over towards were a branch of an actual tree pointed down. Upon the tip of it was an inchworm, and she, touching her nose to the end, allowed the tiny thing to traverse onto her.
“Ye have meddled in affairs not ye'er own, and upset the order of things. Now ye must set it right.”

I watched the worm hike its way up between her eyes and onto one of the budding antlers. Her words were true, there was a notion of honor that nagged at me like a yolk. I had interfered, unasked for, in the Yardling way of things. I should go to them, and ask wither they would have aid or exile of me. But my mind was greatly troubled in the moment, and wished to think on other matters.
“Tell me, Dail the Spriggan. What is the manner of your kind, and of yourself?”

“My kindred are the keepers of the forest.” The inchworm settled on one of the leafs, where it began to chew away. I wonder if she felt anything, she seemed not to. “Much like ye pony folk build houses and homesteads, we cultivate all that is green.” She gestured widely with a leg, sweeping it to all that surrounded. “In ages long past my kind raised this forest, before moving elsewhere to do the same. Some of my kind remain here yet, though they are but distant offspring.”
“I am young, only a hundred years by the way ponies measure time. My Rhiant is not unyouthful, only about a thousand years.”

Only a thousand years! The notion was fantastic, but how could I dispute it? If she were a pony, I would measure her as being no older than a mare on the precipice of adulthood. But she was no pony, how she could even be alive I could not say, but there she stood before me. One year or a hundred for a Spriggan was not within my capabilities to judge.
I wondered then about Luna, and how her life-span would compare.
“Are all Spriggans of similar form?”

She chuckled then, an effervescent laughter that was like trickling water. “No! The older of us are much taller, as tall as some trees. Their branches wide and thickly crowned. Where ye see my eyes, some are blue, or orange, or autumn gold.”
I have answered many of ye'er questions, Unforgiven one, I would have ye answer a few of my own.”

“What would you know?”

Dail came close and settled on the ground opposite me, I could have reached out and laid a hoof on her if I wanted.
“I have heard, that on the other side of the great Anhygoel, the land is ruled by two sisters, divine pony-creatures. Is it true?”

Exerting my thought on Celestia was not a welcome prospect, but I felt obliged to satisfy her interest. I went on at some length to explain the history of the sisters as I knew it, often interrupted by her questions for clarification. Why was this, and why was that, she asked, so that I retold most of the history of Equestria before she at last was content.
Our conversation continued for several hours, exchanging information, telling stories. I learned that this land was called ‘Prydain’ in the Spriggan tongue, and ‘Trottingham’ by the local ponies.

She also explained that she had learned the common pony language from encounters with us, and by listening through the green, the very leaves and grass serving as spies for the Spriggan.

The ponies living here had come from the west generations ago, carving their homesteads out of the wilderness. At first the Spriggan were angry, and plotted to drive them out. But then they observed the ponies connection to the world around them, saw how they lived in harmony with nature, and decided to leave them be.

When the day began to wane, and the dim sky of evening was over us. My mind turned once more to Yardling, and how they might have fared in the wake of my flight. I had taken a spot resting against a tree trunk, my new acquaintance laying in the boughs above. My restless mood prevented me from remaining in one position for very long, and my stirring became noticeable.

“The consequences of ye’er actions trouble ye still?” Dail asked, looking down past her swinging leg. “Have ye decided on a course?”

“Your counsel is wise, Dail, I should at least offer my services in recompense for their woe. And hope they not chase me back into the sea under a hail of stones.”

“I will walk with ye then back to the village!” Hopping down from her perch, Dail used her antlers to nudge me to my hooves. “And if any griffin try to bar our path, then the whole fury of the green will be upon them!”

Author's Note

Hope you guys enjoy this little update to the "Tales" collection. If you want to imagine what Dail's accent sounds like, think of a Welsh teenager, light and cheerful.

The next update will probably be for the Agoge, but stay tuned for new ministories like "Evil Ways" to pop up on their own.