I sit here in my tent, shared with five people. My boots are caked in mud now; my feet haven’t been dry in what I think might be weeks. I don’t know what blood on my uniform is my own. I don’t know how this battle continues on. The demolished landscape looks like it’s going to give out into the depths of hell anytime. For a lot of them out there, it already has. My own kettle helm is fucked. A damn Aristian axer got to it. The Quartermaster refuses to offer replacement, stating ‘Go scrounge through the dead, these are for the new recruits’. So tonight I’m staying up a little late so I can go pick one off Gretter’s corpse-- He died earlier today, and he always took good care of his things. I think I saw where he took that arrow too, so I guess I’ll go there first.

~Journal Entry from an unknown source during the Second Battle for Blisterwald

I was shaken awake, suddenly and painfully. Startled, I crawled further back into the seat to get closer to the window. My sword was awkwardly on my hip in its scabbard, so I reached for my dagger instead, prepared to take down the Aristian the dared to wake me.

“Shakey wakey, Mr. Sir Corrick!” exclaimed a bubbly voice. I finally used my eyes, hand on my dagger, and saw the absurdly pink pony that had frightened me. A smile was worn on her face and I exhaled in relief. However, the mare tilted her head and raised a brow in confusion. “What’s-a wrong Mr. Sir Corrick? Did I scare you?” Her eyes widened as she answered her own questioned and the smile came back after its brief disappearance. She giggled, “It’s okay silly, the Pinkster doesn’t bite. At least, I don’t think so. I’ve never tried, so maybe I do. Or maybe I bite ponies in my sleep. Can I bite you? I want to know if I like biting things. Well, I know i like biting certain things, like cupcakes. Aren’t cupcakes, like, the best thing to bite on?” She paused and gasped before stating, “Oh my celestia! I bite cupcakes not ponies! I mean, I can’t blame me, because I love- crpkaghs sr mug. Hr!” I placed my armoured hand over her mouth. She stopped her claptrap and I myself took the stage.

“Why did you wake me?” I asked, trying to get to the point. I could already guess, but I wanted to know the detailed answer. I uncovered her maw so she could answer.

“Oh! We’re in Canterlot now. Everyone’s got their bags n’ stuff and waiting by the door,” she pointed towards where the five others stood, saddlebags and other strange looking sacks plump with a large amount of… well honestly I had no idea as to what they brought with them in their bags. Miss Fluttershy already had her kit packed when I walked into the kitchen of the cottage. At the sight, I sighed once more and inconspicuously slid my dagger back into its sheath. These dreams have me worked up beyond belief. Hopefully my time off will wash me of my awful shadows. It will. It has to, or I may not be able to begin warring in conquest. I wouldn’t have the strength.

“Let us be off then, pink one. We shan’t keep a fair princess waiting. It is poor manners,” I stated, shrugging her suspiciously light frame off of my laying body. I stood up out of my seat and stretched and yawned loudly, before seizing in pain. I shouted out, “Blasted!” in pain from the crook in my neck. Those seats are not meant for someone my stature to be sleeping in.

“Are you okay, Sir Corrick?” came the concerned voice of Miss Fluttershy. I smiled, and looked down to her. She looked genuinely worried and it warmed my heart. The gentle kindness of this little mare was so… abstract. I knew not how to approach the question, as I pondered the true well being of myself. The answer was so obviously in front of me. However I couldn’t help but to second guess myself. My mental fortitude was in shambles. I knew this, but a strong willed knight like me is unable to visibly falter. I must always stand tall for my companions. I shall be the brick wall my comrades find a place to lean on.

I awkwardly shrug back in response to Fluttershy’s question, unable to make my answer actually audible like I wanted to. I need to stand tall but I- I can’t even say a simple yes or no to a friend. I’m an awful knight. A true coward as always. I sigh quietly under my helm and face forward, having moved next to my cream-colored companion.

I take a glance out of the now opened door, only to be taken aback by the marvelous sight. Yet again am I breath taken by the astounding beauty this world has to offer. In my line of sight stands a city of marble and gold. Even were the city not made of such fine materials, the architectural beauty would alone make this the most extravagant city I’ve ever witnessed. Stained glass windows on every wall. Golden swirling domes on every rooftop. Towers that stood taller than the clouds. It spoke of culture and refinement. The likes you might only see within a castle.

In my shocked stupor I gasped. So stunned was I that I didn’t even notice that all of the mares and dragon had moved off on to the platform. The dragon seemed to be heaving a mountain of baggage for the white one, whilst she carried none. A true gentleman, yet his desires were clearly to be unrequited as his mistress gawked at some other stallions who wore- strangely enough- clothing.

“I thought ponies didn’t wear clothing…” I mentioned as I caught up with the herd of ponies I was to be accompanying.

“Well it is quite true that a pony needn’t wear apparel, that is the entire point of ponies wearing it in the first place. It demonstrates class and wealth. As well, I believe that it also depicts the personality of the pony wearing said fabrics. You are aware that I am the sole proprietor of the Carousel Boutique, yes?” said Rarity, whom had glazed eyes as she mentioned the personality in clothing or whatever.

“What is a ‘boo teek’?” I asked. I received only giggles from the pastel mares in response. Rarity was rather miffed, though.

Rarity shrieked, “Has your society no class!? No style!? No appreciation for the finer things in life!?”

I simply made another shrug in response, instead focusing on the scenery again. I had no real desire for the answer to my query. There were many well dressed ponies walking the streets in top hats and coats. A few even carried canes with large jewels encrusted upon them. The contrast between Ponyville and Canterlot was great. Applejack served as a rather handy juxtaposition for me to observe, since she was quite out of her element. From what I know about her, she normally appears to be a stout individual, but she seems a little nervous in this environment. I can’t blame her, I’m rather nervous myself.

As our merry band of adventurers and adventuresses begins to trot their way down the street, I take in the sights. Well, the ponies trot, spike walks briskly and I take a leisurely stroll. For all their legs, it seems that the height advantage I have over them balances out our paces. An interesting little coincidence, I guess. However, what has my mind most intrigued at the moment is the scriptures written on some of the walls and signs. It’s all in such sophisticated calligraphy. So despite me not being able to understand it, I am still able to marvel at it. I keep looking this way and that, barely paying attention to what is ahead of me.

“Ahh!” comes a high-pitched, feminine yelp at my feet.

“Hu-?” was all I could get out before my world turned horizontal and I began to fall over a mare in golden armor. Armor that seemed reminiscent of the kind that the marble men would wear in the halls of Esterfell, but poorly protected the pony underneath. I threw my hands out in front of my to break my own fall and hopefully minimize any injuries to the pony beneath me. Before I could hit the ground, my vision was filled with a light pink and the fall stopped. Time kept going though, and as I looked around in surprise I noticed that the force that stopped me from falling was quite obviously linked to Twilight Sparkle’s horn. I sighed, as she reset me to a standing position. Twilight looked winded and shocked about something.

As I was standing, so was the white mare in armor. She sighed and said, “Miss Sparkle, if you won’t put a leash on your pet creatures, then at least train them to not jump all over strangers.” I feel like I should be insulted, and I am, but then I get an idea. I lazily drop down to my knees and start panting like a dog, whimpering apologetically as well. The mare, only a little perturbed by this, sighes once more and pats my helm. “It’s okay, pal. I’m sure you didn’t mean it.” I then reach out and grab her head with an armored hand. She gags as I’m holding her by her bottom jaw with my thumb in her mouth. I then reach out with my other hand and grab her helmet. I yank the golden helmet off her head and push her to the ground again.

Standing up I present the strange helmet to myself as a trophy, putting it atop my own helm as a joke. The mare is now looking up to me as I tease her childlishly, putting my hands to the side of my head and blowing a raspberry. I took note of a few things as I took the helmet though. One, it was thin and probably wouldn’t actually stop any blows. Two, it was real gold, making its usefulness even less so. Three, the color her helmet’s plume was a deep purple as compared to the rest of the guards who I also just noticed standing around me. With spears ready to poke a whole lot of holes in me at any moment.

“Put the helmet down now, beast!” one of the guardsponies yelled. This one was male, but aside from that he also wore a white coat. In fact, all of the guards before me wore white colored fur. Strange. He pushed his spear a little closer before shouting, “I won’t say it again, creature.”

“How can you even be sure it knows what you mean?” one of the grunts asked. I just sort of stood there casually, tilting my head slightly in confusion.

“Corrick, come on now, enough’s enough. Please act like a civilised pony,” said Twilight who was trying to de-escalate the situation. I did quite agree that things escalated pretty quickly, and I looked away from her and back to the tips of the spears. They were so… pointy. The way they shined in the midday sunlight… was there always blood there? Whose blood was it? Did they get me while I wasn’t looking? I took a step back and patted myself for wounds. When my boot struck the ground again though, it made a patter in a puddle of liquid. The smell it was so… metallic yet sulphuric. Where did the sulphur come from?

I looked down to my body and noticed that my surcoat was stained red with cuts all over. It was tattered, actually. The wind carried the tails of what was left, and gently floated up its remains. The mail underneath glistened in the rays of sunlight. Beyond my body was the pool of blood and mud I stood in. My boots were caked and covered with the weird pasty mixture of the two. I didn’t know what to say. Where did all this come from. In shock I dropped the mare’s helm from my hands, and watched as a woman’s head splashed in the mud. The woman’s face looked familiar but I have no clue whose it was. I looked to my armored hands. They were dirty. So dirty.

I then remembered the spears to my front. I grasped my sword and drew it half way from its scabbard, ready to meet the Aristian spearmen. I looked up and there they were in their standard garb. Aristian spearmen, wearing blue surcoats and closed bascinet-like helms with eagles cresting them. I hesitated. If I drew my sword entirely they’d have their steel buried in my gut before I could even think about cutting one of them down. I relaxed my grasp on my sword, letting it slide all back to the hilt in the scabbard. The spearmen relaxed as well.

I lunged at the spearman straight in front of me, moving his spear to the side and pulling out my dagger. The other three shocked spearmen thrusted towards where I was only milliseconds before. One of them nicked my side but didn’t cut through the mail I wore underneath the surcoat. Tackling the head spearman was nothing short of easy, and easier still was to shove my freed dagger into stomach area before rolling to the side. I stood out of my roll and look as one of the others had stabbed their comrade on the ground. He was facing away from me. An opportunity I jumped on.

My dagger went straight through the man’s spine and flesh. It was like he wasn’t even wearing armor. I kicked the man off my blade and onto one of his battle buddies. There was only two left. They looked at me with what I could only assume was shock. After all, I could only read their body language. “Restrain him!” came a shout from behind them. It was a woman’s, though I couldn’t see who it was. The Aristians pulled women in their military now? Were they that desperate against the might of Marlheim? She was giving orders too, meaning she held a position of authority. I’d have to take her down too, once I got my hands on her. I will give her a chance to surrender of course.

The two spearmen lunged at me simultaneously, and I took a very big risk. I took a fighting stance and made a wide and powerful roundhouse kick to the tips of their spears. It was dangerous and stupid, but I timed it right and to my benefit they got crossed up and fell over each other. They had apparently put all of their weight into the thrusts. I pull a spear from the first man’s corpse as I maneuver around the bodies like a dance. As I pull the spear out and swing it to point it at my enemies the blood on the tip flies off. I then take the spear and make a thrust for the man closest to getting up, and end up impaling him all the way through.

That spear will take too long to retrieve so I just roll and pick his up, narrowly avoiding a thrust by the last man. Unfortunately my new found weapon had snapped in its previous owner’s fall. It mattered not. I just need to get in close and shove the wooden spike into the last man’s abdomen like a stake through a vampire’s heart. The spearman made an attempt to slash at me and I jumped back, taking advantage of his recovery time and closing whatever distance his spear granted him. I grabbed the shaft of his spear and pulled him forward. Right into my boot, as I kicked him in the opposite direction. He folded in half and flew into the ground a few feet away. Weird, it’s almost as if he weighs less than he should.

Either way, the distance he flew gave him some respite from any further attacks. He was too dazed to use that respite though. I rushed his position, almost tripping as some sort of invisible force tried to stop me. It felt like I was running through water for but a few moments. The strange feeling stopped and i threw myself into a dive, aiming to shove the wooden spike into the downed Aristian. The piece of wood deflected off of his abdomen unexpectedly and I tumbled on top of him, my shoulder landing on the visor of his bascinet. It became a fist fight from that point on.

I straddled him and began to beat at his chest and helmet mercilessly. He threw flailing punches too, and his hands hit like they were made of stone. I had to win. I need to beat this man until he stopped fighting back. I can’t believe he was still fighting after watching three of his friends die. I heard the screaming again. They sounded so real, and I put my frustrations and pain into every punch I made.

“You,” punch, “Aristian,” punch, “flower-picking,” punch, “son of a,” punch, “bitch!”

I looked to the right and saw a rock on the ground in the mud. With an quick reach, I pulled the rock over to me and picked it up. I had to wrestle a little, since the blue-coated man beneath me tried to push me off of him. It was too late for him, for I hefted the rock above my head. Specks of mud dripped onto both of us. Our tussle in the mud left us both very dirty. However, I still needed to win, and so brought the rock down to the visor of his bascinet with as much might as I could muster. His bascinet crumpled almost too easily. The man stopped fighting back, but I brought the rock up again. And again I smashed it down into the helmet. Over and over for four more times I beat the man's head in. Blood spurted out with each strike, and a loud squelching was heard. With the last strike, I left it there in the caved in helmet. I felt no remorse for this. This isn't personal, it isn’t murder. It’s war, and I have to win. I have to live.

The screaming kept going. I don’t know why. It was hard to hear anything besides the screaming. I grabbed the sides of my helmet and fell off of the man in pain. I curled up into the fetal position, trying to stop the noise. It never stopped. It never stops. I ground my teeth, and winced with every new noise. I close my eyes and try to stop all senses. Through it all I hear even more voices. More corporeal voices. They whispered. They shouted. They spoke. Through it all I heard one word.

“Why?” said she. It was that same damn question!

“Why, Corrick?” another voice said, this one male. “Why didn’t you help!?” he shouted at me. It was Roilles. Of course, I’m being haunted by an angry soul, aren’t I?

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know anymore! Leave me alone! Stop yelling at me!” I shouted in return to each of the pestering voices. Though, they irritated me more than just pestering. I’m in tears.

“What don’t you know, Corrick?” came her voice. It was the voice of that lady, the one who brought me to this… place. Where am I again?

I open my eyes, and see that I’m in Canterlot on the ground in the middle of the street. My right arm and shoulder are wet. Laying directly in front of me is the corpse of a pony, whose coat is that of a soft blue. His face is… destroyed, in it was his own helm. It looked as if he was bludgeoned with his own helm. The plume was half missing and half laden with blood, bone and brain matter. Did… did I do that? I- I know I just beat an Aristian man to death but- No. No, I must have been rendered unconscious. Right?

I need to investigate the perpetrators of this crime, and maybe win some favor with the locals. I stand up off the ground, dusting myself off to maintain dignity. I check my sword and make sure it’s secured before reaching for my dagge-

“Stay away!” I heard a mare shriek.

My dagger was missing. It must have slipped out somewhere, or maybe the person who attacked these stallions and rendered me unconscious stole it. That’s a possibility as well. I turn to meet the origin of the shriek. Before me were the six mares whom I’d arrived with. They all look terrified. They must have seen the assailant then. They must have seen him at work. I’ll admit, whoever butchered those ponies is a special kind of sick. To murder in broad daylight and so brazenly during a time of peace. I sigh, and take a step towards the mares.

“Who did thi-” was all I managed to get out before being interrupted.

“I said stay back!” yelled… Fluttershy of all ponies. Was she yelling at me? I looked around, and behind me. There’s no way I could be mistaken. But why? She had tears in her eyes and was giving me a glare that broke my heart. Were- were we not comrades? She looked so mad, but-

“M-miss Fluttershy?” I croaked, my gravelly voice being especially low.

“Don’t worry, mares, I’ll keep it busy. Run to the palace! Don’t stop until you get there!” a pegasus mare shouted as they flew in between me and the group. She was one of the armored ones but lacked her helmet. Her voice unmistakably belonged to the white mare guard from earlier, but her coat was a shade of pink. Maybe I saw things differently before. The sun must have reflected off of her fur or something like that.

The six mares obliged the guard and bolted down the road. Spike rode on Twilight’s back, having ditched the mountain of carry on. He was crying. If he saw those guards… he will never be able to unsee what he saw today. It will be etched into his memory for eternity. The group turned a corner, and I began to run after them.

“H-hey,” I shouted, “Wait fo-” Something caught my leg, causing me to trip. The impact with the ground stung and knocked the wind out of me.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, you bastard,” the guard mare shouted angrily as she walked onto my back. “Now, make a move and I shove my sword through you’re depraved skull,” she stated, emphasizing her point by jabbing her sword under my helmet and into the base of head, where it joined with my neck. “But for my sake and yours, by all means, please move. I want you dead and your corpse to rot in an unmarked grave for killing my fri- my stallions. But unlike you, I don’t kill without a reason. So give me one!” She shouted that final sentence. It seemed like she was crying or about to. She and her troops must have been a close knit group.

“I said give me one, you monster!” she cried. She stomped a hoof into my back. “Let me kill you!”

“Miss… I understand you're upset-” I said, trying to get her to not stomp on me any further. My plan backfired as that line seemed to upset her more than it did to console her. She stomped twice more. I think something popped, and my arm feels like it's on fire. I let out a pained cry.

“No you don’t! You have no idea what it’s like to have all of your friends die right in front of you! To have them look into your eyes as they helplessly meet their death! You’re just a dumb monster. A big, dumb, ugly monster who eats ponies and kill families and friends!” she cries. I want so badly to say how much I really can relate, but I can’t speak through the stomping, the pain, and my clenched teeth. I don’t know why she hates me so much, I only took her helmet. I know I did. Then I was incapacitated. Surely she must not have seen what happened, and is jumping to conclusions.

I grit my teeth and say nothing, giving up and hoping she just calms down on her own. Of course, she doesn’t but I need to stay quiet until someone stops her delusional self or until she gets tired. Without my prompting further discourse, I find myself mostly un-stomped on for the next few minutes. In that time I painfully relived the deaths of my friends. I wish she hadn’t said that. I’m not a monster, either. Or… maybe I am. Maybe I did lose my humanity during the war. Maybe I lost it far before then when my parents were… Was I ever human to begin with? All I know is that this guardsmare’s words moved me far more than she could’ve thought.

The sounds of various sets of hooves clopping on the marble flagstone indicates a large group of ponies drawing near. I look up in hopes of seeing Miss Fluttershy and her friends, but the small glimpse I’m afforded before my head is smooshed into the ground again dissipates my hopes. The ponies who had arrived seemed to be a escort of guards. I think the lead one wore a purple suit of armor that looked heavier than the standard golden armor, but I had less than a second to see. I sighed in defeat.

“Thank you, Sergeant. We can handle it from here. Your service to the crown and her glory shall not go unrewarded. As well, I offer my deepest condolences for your comrades,” said a stallion. His voice seemed only a little raspy but mainly young, nothing I’d expect from what appeared to be some sort of high ranking military personnel. The mare hesitantly stepped off of my back, but I didn’t get up. I’m stricken with a heavy plague of defeatism. There was no way that I was going to be anything useful to this world with this sort of display. Perhaps me being here at all is a mistake. I can easily fix that, though with the accusations currently pointed at me, it seems the justice system will be more than happy to fix things for me.

The group of guards doesn’t even bother to ask me to get up. Oddly enough, the first try to bind my hands with some sort of magic cuffs, but the only last a few moments before flashing brightly and then going out leaving me free. After another attempt they just take out some rope and hogtie me. Then the one in purple armor lifts me up with his magic. Before long he gets a strained look on his face and drops me. I put two and two together, and note that magic seems to have an odd effect when used on me. I’m then plopped onto the back of one of the stallions and carried away.

I don’t struggle at all through this process. In fact I don’t move a muscle on my own. As we walk by the corpses of the fallen guards I realized the extreme similarity between how the Aristians died, and how these men- ponies were murdered. Tears well in my eyes, and I deny once more that I could have in any way been responsible for their deaths. I was unconscious and have no memories of any sort of fight with ponies. I give a final sigh as I let the ponies carry me away from the scene. The sight of blood is always one that chills me to the core.

Author's Note

<3
Also I know the last chap kinda sucked, but It's just gonna have of be one of those stains. Either way its a cannon part of my story and it'll stay that way no matter how awful it is. xD. Adds character.

~With love, Explosions.