Humani Victoria: Red Star

Prologue - A Mare With No Name

Deep in the Saddle Arabian Desert, Saddle Arabia, 3rd of March, 9:34am, 2202 AC

Three Years Before the Events of Humani Victoria

The desert sun beat down like a hammer from the gods, heavy and harsh it dried hair and cracked skin. The heat was ever present even if the light was obscured as the red mare had discovered a long time ago, she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light that leaked through the small hole in the heavy canvas cover to the carriage. Clouds obscured the light not and when she breathed the air it came in dry and full of dust, she coughed, her throat dry and cracked from lack of water and she recoiled from the hole to sit back down.

Six months, give or take, the red mare had trouble remembering things from long ago and she certainly no memory of anything before her enslavement, nothing before the heavy collar which chaffed her neck. She ran a hoof along its rough iron surface and down the chain which linked her to a central metal rod on the inside of the carriage, this ride linked her to three other mares. They were slaves like her, two she had known her entire life (the parts she could remember) the third was a relatively new addition.

“D-does it ever get better?” The new one asked, she had been crying a lot, only naturally really given the circumstances. She looked at the red mare with wide eyes, still a coal of hope burned in them. Holding onto the idea that maybe just maybe there was salvation in that unforgiving desert beyond the suffocating canvas.

“Never,” came the harsh response of the red mare, best to stifle such idiotic ideas before they crushed one later on. The new mare broke back into tears and the red mare had to feel a little bad, the new mare was quite pretty with a straw coloured mane and a sand-coloured coat, her eyes big and blue, it was probably why the Khans took her. They had found the village along the southern banks, north of the great river and on the very edge of Zebrica, a place the small refugee settlement had probably thought was safe from the marauding Khanate Clans of Saddle Arabia, they were sadly mistaken. The red mare hadn't seen or even heard the battle, all she knew was the khans had come back covered in blood and dragging the yellow mare with them.

The red mare couldn't remember when she had been taken, or if she had been taken at all. She knew of whole generations of slaves bred in captivity, but no, there was… Something before all this but it was lost in clouds and mist. There was a house, maybe a family? And a city too, by the water but these were only shadows that she wasn't sure was real. Perhaps it wasn't, perhaps she had been born this way, her captors certainly didn't allude to a past, they hadn't even given her a name they always called her “the red one.” Which was rather inaccurate, the red mare actually had a light brown coat and a faded orange mane, her eyes like suns, the only spot of red on her was her Mark, a red star. She had no idea what it meant.

The carriage jerked to a stop suddenly and there was a commotion outside, some talking in a dialect that the red mare recognized as Arabian, although she couldn't make out the words enough to understand through the muffling of the canvas and their heavy accents. There was laughter and then approaching hoofsteps, the door flap was thrown open letting sunlight flood into the dark pit of misery.

“We take break,” said the Khan in very bad common tongue. “Get fresh air, come.”

The red mare pressed herself against the edge of the carriage to allow the large khan to climb in and pull the rod out of it place, he carried out back out of the carriage and the slaves were forced to follow seeing as they were attached to the thing. The red mare’s hooves hit the scorching sand, luckily the Khans were kind enough to come over with linen wraps to protect her from being badly burned. As far as slave masters went, the khans weren't all that bad, the red mare had heard them talking about the Dogs to the far north-west who beat and starved their slaves.

“Makes no sense, why damage your own property?” They would say.

The red mare looked around although she wasn't sure why she bothered, beyond their caravan of three carriages and about forty Khans there was nothing but thousands of kilometres of sun-scorched sand and rocks in every direction. Lifeless, desolate, dead, yet strangely full of life, Saddle Arabia was very much a crossroads of the world, worth Equestria to the west across the southern sea, Stalliongrad to the north, and the mysterious Eastern Unknown to the east Saddle Arabia saw many oddities.

The Khans were a prime example, they weren't Saddle Arabians no, they were as tall but they were more muscular and tended to have longer thicker manes. The Khans were descended from the mysterious Steppe Tribes who migrated west from the northern steppes that separated Stalliongrad from Saddle Arabia and lay and the very edge of the known world.

“You drink,” the large Khan grunted, pushing a bowl of water towards them. The red mare leaned down and licked up the warm water, it was better than nothing so she didn't complain. The other mares crowded in and soon enough the bowl was picked dry as a bone, water was precious in the desert and they weren't about to waste a single drop.

“We ride to Mada'in Saleh, there you shall be gift to Great Khan, it is great honour.”

“We are very honoured,” the red mare replied.

The Khans were eager to make haste thus the small rest didn't last very long, the slaves were corralled back into their carriage and the caravan was mobile once more. At least now the red mare’s throat didn't have the texture of sand..

Mercifully the final push to Mada'in Saleh took only a few hours, by this time the sun had just barely began to touch the world and it set the horizon in fire with the sky above turning orange from the glow and great shadows being cast. Mada'in Saleh turned out to be a ruin of some description, ancient stone living spaces carved into the side of a lonely mountain half-buried in the sands. The architecture of these hollowed out dens and the remains of what appeared to be walls, pillars, towers, and other structures was very strange in arrangement. Nevertheless it was home to a fresh water spring nestled neatly towards the eastern half of the ruins where water would run off and collect, it was because of this water that the Khans of the Steppes had chosen Mada'in Saleh as a choice place to meet and rest.

Simple straw and canvas tents were erected everywhere along with banners boasting the heritage of every khanate present, the khans themselves milled about, meeting old friends, sharing strong bitter drinks, boasting battles won, or showing off riches plundered. Then of course were the carts full of slaves, all young and decently attractive mares stolen away from isolated towns set up in by the Khan raiding parties, dragged off into the desert for some unknown purpose.

The red mare along with her three forced travelling companions were corralled into what was essentially a large pen full to the brim of what felt like at least a thousand enslaved mares. The red mare was squeezed between several others in the uncomfortable and claustrophobic surroundings as she struggled to see what was occurring beyond this sea of slaves.

The Khans had assembled in front of what used to be the main keep of this once great city, now only a crumbling collection of walls, pillars, and stone. A large figure emerged from the darkness of the ruin, a large hulking male with rippling muscles and a heavy braided mane weighed down with oil and adornments. His Amber eyes swept across his fellow Khans before sweeping towards the slaves, looking at them with a predatory look in his eyes.

“Who is that?” One mare asked.

“I heard some of the Khans talking about him, Alzaeim I think they called him, one of the bigger Khans in the area, they have to pay respects to him if they want to pass through his lands, bring gifts.”

“Gifts… You mean us.”

“Hush!”

Alzaeim stepped into the pen and began to slowly stroll through the crowd of slaves whom all looked at him with apprehension, fear, terror, or some mixture of the three. They gave the large Khan a wide birth as he stalked amongst them casually, occasionally he would reach out to touch on of the mares, gently grasping them so he could inspect their faces. He moved slowly but eventually his eyes set upon the red mare, he made his way over to her and pushed her chin up so she was forced to look him in the eye. Alzaeim studied her for a moment, considering, before eventually moving on, the red mare let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding and watched as Alzaeim approached another mare, the yellow one.

He studied her longer than anyone else, taking in her features and her eyes as she fidgeted in his grasp. Eventually after a long pause he released her and looked back across the horde of khans whom had been watching in anticipation up until this point.

“This one,” Alzaeim said, a voice like thunder.

The Khans roared, they chanted, and they screamed in the fervour and excitement they felt from this moment lost as it was on their slaves. The moment lasted quite a while, a prior of excitement and rabidness just before an arrow pierced the skull of Alaziem, it wasn't even until at least forty Khans had died before they realized where the archery was coming from, but by then it was too late as bolts and arrows fell upon them like rain.

A mass panic began as the Khans races fir their weapons and the slaves tried to take cover in their enclosed space. The red mare found herself nearly suffocated and trampled by the slaves rushing to flee their cage, yet the red mare did not panic and stayed more or less where she was while the rest broke through the barrier and escaped, for she saw where the arrows fell from; shadows along the ancient walls which wielding longbows and crossbows but they weren't shooting at her no they pelted the Khans whom struggled to find a way to get to them.

Some of these shadows took to the sky on large wings and it was only when they entered the light that she saw them in their entirety; Pegasi, Equestrian Pegasi wielding a multitude of weapons from Equestrian spears to Prench rapiers, but it wasn't just Pegasi but Unicorns and Earth Ponies whom jumped down too, a fair few Gryphon's joined the fray, wielding the longswords of their homeland, and to the red mare’s surprise and fear a Minotaur charged in wielding a massive battleaxe crafted from some strange reddish metal which glimmered in the sunlight. The red mare simply watched in awe as the khans, such a dominating and ruthless force up until this point, were slaughtered before her and all within a very short time. When it was all said and done the khans lay dead, the red mare's fellow slaves had dispersed, many of them simply running into the desert in fear while those unlucky enough to be caught in the battle were trampled, leaving the red mare the only one left facing this odd band of races and nationalities.

“And do we ‘ave ‘ere?” A pale blue unicorn asked through a Prench accent, a bloody rapier held in his magical grasp. “My dear, do you ‘ave a name? Are you ‘armed?”

“I.. Um,” the red mare looked around at the mixed band, many were taking notice of the slave. “I'm… Fine, who are you people? Why… Why are you here?”

“First things first,” another unicorn said, approaching, he spoke with an Equestrian accent. “Let’s get these shackles off of you.”

The unicorn manifested his magic, a blue hue, and undid the red mare’s bonds around her neck and horn. It was the first time she had been free of the restraints ever, the rush of air as her throat was released and the re-connection to the magical fields as her horn was unbound hit her hard but was ultimately the most liberating thing she had ever left. She nearly collapsed and felt her eyes moisture, only just now realizing that she was.. Free.

“Hey, hey now, it's okay, it's okay,” the Equestrian consoled. “Lie down, poor thing, you’re sling and bones… Silverclaw? Bring some fresh food and water over here, please.”

“Yes, mi’lord,” one of the Gryphon’s said with a bow and flew away only to swiftly return with a sack of food and a full waterskin. The red mare took the water first, realizing how dry her throat was and downed all she could.

“Do you have a name?” The Equestrian asked.

“Do I… No,” the red mare said. “The khans never gave me one, just called me the red mare…. Who are you?”

“I'm Golden Dawn, leader of this company,” Golden Dawn smiled, he was a tall and muscular unicorn with a pale golden coat that was almost a sand colour and a light brown mane, his eyes were molten gold. “We are a company of the faithful, loyal to the Eternal men and to the glory of Humanity.”

The red mare looked around at this diverse company and a single question reached her lips.

“Humanity?”

Author's Note

Well this is new.

As some of you may know this is obviously set in the same universe as my main story Humani Victoria, but happens canonically before it begins. You don't need to read these in order but I highly suggest check my still in-progress story Humani Victoria!

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