Fall of Equestria: The Ghost of Lindisbarne

(Chap 2)

The icy blue orbs once again opened to the world. This time, their owner was no longer within the dark confines of the pony-stuffed warehouse, but was instead sitting overlooking a part of Lindinsbarne. From its perch, it could see the caribou soldiers below frantically run around, shouting orders and alerts about an escape. This observer had been there when the caribou had gone into the warehouse, only to find it as abandoned as it had been prior to their arrival. The orbs continued to track the scene below, interrupted only with the occasional blink as frantic chaos gave way to regimented organizing as plans were announced and ranks were carefully formed. Said ranks soon began to move, splitting apart as they left the town, themselves splitting into smaller squads as the left for the wilds to hunt their escaped quarry.

When the last of the gathered stags had left the confines of the town, the figure took one last good look at all it surveyed. In their efforts to track down the missing ponies, the stags had left the town with but a skeleton crew to look after it. With that observation made, it leapt from its perch, landing gracefully on the dirt below with practiced precision. The figure ducked into an alleyway as a pair of stragglers ran past. One stag, and a mare running behind him. Neither of them were of any immediate importance to the figure, and neither of which had noticed it in return.

When the coast was clear, the figure emerged, continuing on its way. There was work to be done, and the time to do it was short.

Vestri returned from the hunt, a sleeping Sunny dozing in his arms. He let out a sigh of frustration. Today had not gone well. It'd started with him being rudely awakened, learning there had been a mass breakout of Warehouse Two, thanks to a hidden passageway his men had neglected to find out about before using it as a storage shed for their prisoners. Someone was definitely getting warbeast shit-duty for that fuckup, a fuckup that resulted in a merry little chase throughout the surrounding woods in order to recapture every single little pony before they got too far out of range.

He wouldn't admit it to himself, let alone any of his men, but they had gotten damn lucky that not one of the ponies had actually managed to escape. It could have compromised their entire invasion if even one of them had gotten far enough away from the town. Someone could have gone to another town, warned someone, and before they knew it, this town could have been swimming in enemy soldiers. While they definitely had the numbers to take the town, the caribou definitely did not have the numbers, let alone the supplies to hold out against a prolonged siege, even against an enemy as inferior to the mighty caribou as the ponies. It had also been fortunate that the ponies had chosen to waste this opportunity on an escape attempt rather than an uprising. Once they got the other ships in this wouldn't be so much of a problem, but in their current state the ponies handily outnumbered the stags. True, the stags were much stronger than the ponies, it was the reason they succeeded in capturing them with lesser numbers in the first place. Well, that and the surprise attack helped a little bit too. But even he knew if the townsponies had gotten in their head to attack, they could have done some serious damage to their position. Maybe not drive them away outright, but it would still put them in a rather precarious position.

A soft murmur from the mare sleeping in his arms briefly broke his thoughts, only to refocus them on her. Yes, her. Sunny. She was perhaps the most infuriating thing about all of this. She'd known about the escape plan. About the secret door. Yet had told him nothing. The worst part was he couldn't even punish her for this transgression, because the reason she hadn't told him anything was due to his own orders. He had told her to remain quiet, only to speak when spoken to, and she had followed this order to the letter. Just as a proper female should do. And yet, he knew she should have told him about this. But that would have gone against orders. As he trudged through the forests that surrounded the non-sea side of the town, his mind tried to wrap around how exactly to punish a female for obeying orders that resulted in their master's detriment.

This was not supposed to happen. By his people's standards, this situation should have been downright impossible, even. Females were inferior to males, and thus obeying their masters made everyone lives better. Both theirs, and their masters. So why then was her obeying him causing him so much grief?!

"Lieutenant Vestri!"

In fact the entire situation was hurting his brain. Perhaps he could punish her by not talking to her? No, that wouldn't work.

"Lieutenant Vestri!"

Perhaps if he belayed his order for her to talk only when spoken too? No, that would completely go against-

"LIEUTENANT VESTRI!!"

The near screeching of a stag that stood right in front of him broke his train of thought.

"WHAT?!" He shouted back angrily and instinctively.

He hadn't even noticed the stag running up to him, hadn't heard him shout his name repeatedly. Now that he looked upon the stag in question, he could see he was covered in soot. And what appeared to be... burns?

"Lieutenant Vestri sir, I-" The stag stopped, panting heavily as he caught his breath.

It was at this point that Vestri also became aware of another fact that had eluded him in his earlier state of deep inflection.

That being the smoke rising from the town. It didn't take long for Vestri to put one and one together. After all, he wasn't his idiot brother.

"What is going on?! What happened to you, soldier? Why is there smoke rising from our town?!"

"It's... I don't know! The docks...they're..." The soldier gasped for breath. "Please, we need help. Follow me."

Vestri didn't need to hear anymore. He roughly dropped his pet from his arms. She awoke with a start, a yelp of pain escaping her lips brought about by hitting the ground roughly on her tailbone.

"Five more minutes, Vestri." She groaned. Nothing happened. No kick to the back of the head, no verbal response of any kind. Nothing.

"Vestri?!" She asked weakly, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to shake the sleep from them. When her vision came into focus, she could only see Vestri running off into the distance.

"VESTRI!!" She screamed, stumbling slightly as she rose to her feet. She ran after Vestri as he ran back into the town. Her mind barely registered her surroundings, her sole thought being on catching up with Vestri. Her body became hotter and hotter as she followed in his footsteps.

When she finally did, her eyes and mind were greeted with a horrifying sight. The same sight that had greeted Vestri himself when he had arrived but mere moments earlier, one of a not too dissimilar nature to the attack she had been given a front row seat to.
The ships that the caribou had sailed to Lindinsbarne lit up the early morning sky with a terrible, pulsing light. Waves of heat brushed over the bodies of everything even remotely close to the ships.

All of the ships were engulfed in flames. Not one of the ships that had called Lindinsbarne’s port its new home was spared from the raging inferno that burned wildly out of control. A fire that had also started to engulf the wooden docks that housed the ships as well.

Vestri was standing at the edge of the docks, the light dancing along his frantic face as he barked orders left and right. Sunny could only fall to her knees in disbelief at the sight in front of her as she watched.

All around, stags were frantically running around with water buckets, trying in vain to put them out. Some used their limited telekinesis to try to lift the buckets over the ship. Others attempted to use some sort of ice spell to calm the untamable flames. Those not fortunate enough to know were either consigned to manually carrying buckets of water from the seas to throw at the many blazes. All of these attempts seemed to be in vain, the water evaporating long before it made its mark, and the heat easily repulsed the icy magic they attempted to throw at it. But it didn't deter the stags. All around her, stags ran to and fro with buckets, empty and full.

So frantic was the scene that no one paid much mind to where they were going - a fact that Sunny soon found out the hard way as full water bucket carried by one careless stag accidently found its way into the back of her head. Her mind had barely time to register the pain as her consciousness left her. before her body even hit the dirt, she was out cold.

~~

Sunny groaned as she awoke. A sharp throb of pain emanating from the back of her head served as a rude reminder of how she'd come to be face-down in the dirt at the docks to begin with. That being one of the stags carrying a bucket of water. She soon became aware of the soot and dirt covering her face, wiping it with one hand sadly.

Instinctively, she slid a hand in between her legs, checking for any foreign fluids. To her relief, she felt nothing, apart from soot and dirt. No one had taken her while she was out. That was good.

As she continued to come to, Sunny took in her surroundings. She could still feel the heat in the air, but it was considerably less now than it had been. A dull ambient rather than the blistering waves that it had been before. Her eyes shifted towards the docks. Towards the ships. Whatever the caribou had done to fight the fires had apparently worked.

... Well, almost. The fires were all but out. However, almost nothing remained of the once proud vessels that had carried Vestri, his Liege, and his men to this town, save for a few smoldering husks that had sunken into the shallow waters beneath them. Even with the inferno gone, one could still make out the tiny bits of flames that stubbornly refused to be put out, and the red glow of the still hot charcoal the ships now considered entirely of. By this point, the stags had apparently given up trying to put out all the fires.

Voices filling her ears was the next thing Sunny became aware of. They were muffled at first, unable to be made out by her still painfully throbbing head. Soon however, they became more and more coherent. Instinctively, she rose to all fours, remembering to crawl on them as she approached the voices.

"-about the cargo?" A calm, low voice entered her ears as she approached. Sunny could identify the speaker as King Dainn.

"Well, we were able to save the cows. Thanks to a certain individual who will remain unnamed." A voice that by now Sunny could identify anywhere. That of her master. "But beyond that I'm afraid it's all lost."

"How could the fires rage out of control this quickly?" A stag whom Sunny couldn't identify wondered. "We had men there. They should have seen them before they got out of hand."

"Whoever caused all of this apparently took them out as well." She heard Vestri respond. "We found another batch of guards close to here. Dead."

"Same as the others?" The king inquired. "No injuries or magic?"

"I'm afraid so. And since we've tested negative on poisons for the blacksmith and the guards before that-"

"-Then I'm afraid it's true. These aren't random killings, let alone deaths by natural causes. These murders have some sort of purpose to them."

"Ha, told you! In your face, brother!" Ivangir sneered cheerfully.

"Yes, you've figured out what is obvious to everyone here. By the way, how did that interrogation of that cunt you had yesterday go? I hope you have one lined up to take the blame for this too."

"Enough you two." Dainn chidded. "Save your childish bickerings for another time, you two. This is not the time for family feuds. For now, let's focus on the matter at hand: are you sure that no one saw anyone coming or leaving from the docks?"

"I'm afraid that's correct, my Lord. Everyone that was on normal patrol routes on that area had been called off for this... hunt of ours earlier today."

For the first time since she'd woken up, Sunny thought to look to the skies. It was only now that she became aware that it was almost night out. It was painfully obvious by now that she had slept almost the entire day away. Very literally in fact as another dull throb from the back of her head reminded her.

"Sir, do you think that this whole escape attempt was simply a diversion?" The unknown stag asked in response to Vestri's mention of the hunt.

"It would appear that way. After all, it would seem all to convenient to be mere coincidence, as you've said." Dainn responded. He coughed a little bit, as if clearing his throat.

"Alright everyone. In light of recent events, I am calling an emergency council meeting in the morning. In the meantime, I want guards locking down the town, and questioning stallions and mares alike. Use any methods necessary to find out any scrap of information they might have to share on the nature or identity this saboteur - or saboteurs. Until he or they are captured, any and all tasks not related to interrogation and/or guard duty are hereby suspended."

"And what about the Ceremony?" Vestri asked.

"Forget it." Dainn replied coldly. "The Ceremony is on hold until further notice. The last thing we need right now is to give our enemy or enemies another opening to exploit. In the meantime, gather whatever info you can. I need a stock on what supplies we currently have left and how long they will last us, as well as any information on leads you can scrounge up."

Sunny soon became aware of the council's eyes focusing on her. The king was staring at her with a furrowed expression as he shifted a finger towards her direction.

"Vestri, you can start with that mare over there."

Unbeknownst to all of them, a figure watched the scene unfold from above. It watched as Vestri approached Sunrise, grabbed her by the hair, and lead her off to who-knew-where to do who-knew-what in order to gleam any information he thought he could from the mare.

The figure showed little concern, however. The mare knew nothing, thus the stag would learn nothing. Nothing that would compromise its mission.

This act had done much to cripple the enemy, in more ways than one, but of its own it was not enough. There was more work to be done, and little time to do it.

With that in mind, the silhouette vanished from its observation spot.

"Vestri, your report."

The councillors had all gathered as Dainn had ordered. A map of the town was strewn about on the table. Vestri began, chortling as he pointed to the docks.

"As you well know, what's left of the ships have sunken into the harbor. Even if they were more than just oversized chunks of charcoal, they would still be completely unusable. Also on that note, the dock was caught in the inferno as well, and has been completely destroyed."

"Yes, Vestri, we were there. This is not news. Get to the point." Anvari growled.

"Fine. The point is that the harbor is no longer usable. As for the supplies on the ships, they have been completely lost. With the sole exception of the cows, thanks to a certain cursed individual who I will not dignify by giving a name."

"Figures that little shit would go for his sister instead of anything actually useful. Useless swit." Ivangir growled, but his rude interruption earned him a glare from the king.

"Yes, Ivangir, I'm quite aware of you and your fellow's feelings towards Mr. Gunne. And unless you have anything of actual value you wish to contribute to this discussion, I heavily suggest you refrain from any further outbursts." Dainn's gaze shifted back to Vestri. "And on that note, you may continue."

"As I was saying, the remaining supplies we have are located in warehouses 1," He resumed his report, pointing to a particular area on the map, "and warehouse 4" he slid his finger pointed to another. "We've also repurposed a few of the houses as storage bins and holding bays for the cows. We have the town on lockdown, though even with the soldiers concentrating purely on guard and interrogation duties, we're still stretched a bit thin trying to protect everything.

"How much provisions do we have left?" Dainn inquired, shifting his gaze towards his Quartermaster, Throtr.

"Not much, I'm afraid." Throtr asks. "We had begun the process of unloading the ships before, as you well know. However, most of it was still on board when they were scuttled. By my rough estimate, I'd say we'd have about a month's worth of food for everyone, give or take anything that we can scrounge from the homes of these ponies. Two or Three if we stretch the rations thin enough. And that's only factoring the stags. I'm not including the cows or ponies in this equation, for obvious reasons."

"Hmmmm..." The king thought loudly as he cupped his chin in his hand.. "Okay, here's what needs to happen. Get ahold of the rest of the ships." He ordered, casually twirling two fingers on his right hand in a circle as he spoke. "Tell them to approach the shore and dock some ways south and north of here. I don't care if we have to run them aground, we need them, their men, and their supplies now."

The councilstags all stared at each other, a look of unease quickly sweeping along all of their faces. An awkward silence clouded the room as they all waited for each other to tell their king the bad news. Finally, it was Vestri who broke the ice.

"My king...." He stammered. "The other ships..."

"The other ships have vanished from sight. We believe they assumed the worst when they saw the other ships on fire, and fled." Nothri, who had remained silent up until now, finished.

The king was visibly shaken by the revelation. Slowly, he raised a shaking hand to his face, burying it inside the palms of his shaking hands.

"My king?" Nothri asked.

"WHAT IS THIS INSOLENCE?!" The king roared suddenly as his hands currled into a pair of fists and slammed into the table, startling all of the councillors as the table nearly leapt from the ground from the king's assault on it. "All of the others, JUST GONE, LIKE THAT?!" No one responded at the king's sudden burst of outrage. "This is TREASON! BETRAYAL!"

Dainn took a series of deep breaths. Trying desperately to calm down from his outrage. It wasn't working as well as he, nor anyone else in the room would have liked. "I thought I was the king to the most powerful race in the world. And today, I find out... that my people are been nothing but a bunch of cowards!"

"Sir, This is outrageous! You can't just insult your own men like that-"

"My MEN?" Dainn yelled. "MEN wouldn't have turned tail and ran at the first opportunity. They would have landed and jumped on this the minute they saw we were in any sort of trouble, not trun the other way like a bunch of screaming little sissies!"

The king's face returned to the comfort of his palms.

"I've done everything to preserve our people. To give us a future. All the hard work I've put into this. Years of researching the Cycle, years of gathering the best that our people could afford who would listen to reason, and FOR WHAT?! So that when I ask for ONE tiny little bit of faith, they run away like a bunch of scared little cunts."

"Look, maybe it's not as bad as we think." Vestri suggested. "Maybe they simply landed elsewhere, and maybe they're trying to link up with us, but can't because of our runes disguising the city."

Dainn gave long suck of air, and everyone winced as they prepared for him to yell again. Instead, he held it for a second, before giving a short, calm exhale.

"I hope that's the case. It had better be, for their sake." Dainn huffed, albeit calmer than before. "But unlikely. Besides, even if that was the case, we can't let our runes down on the faint hope that our men aren't complete cowards, lest this land's rulers be alerted to our presence. Something that we cannot afford given our current situation. If the others didn't already go and blow our cover with this stunt of theirs."

Dainn shifted his focus back to Vestri.

"Speaking of which, what have we found out from the ponies concerning their ruler or rulers, army, weapons, and anything else of value?"

"Y-Yes my lord." Vestri stammered, more than happy to change the subject. "As you've requested, I've been... questioning my own pet more thoroughly."

"And?" Dainn asked.

"Here's what I found out. Apparently, this land is ruled by a certain cunt who calls herself 'Princess Celestia'. Unfortunately, my pet was not able to tell me what kind of powers she has, nor of the competence of her or her royal guards."

"I'd have to say, not a whole lot if this land is ruled by a weak female." Ivangir laughed, earning him a glare from Dainn, who motioned back to Vestri to continue.

"Well, he might have a point. Apparently there hasn't been a real conflict here in over a millennium. This leads me to suspect that their soldiery has no real combat experience, which might give us the leg up on that front. From what it sounds like, the royal guard is more for show than an actual military."

At his side, his pet smiled at him hopefully.

"Hell, according to my pet, these ponies actually think this Celestia can raise and lower the sun and moon."

A roar of laughter erupted from the room, all save Dainn, who just leaned back in his chair with a small smirk crossing his lips, Even Sunny gave a small, incinere and nervous laugh, just to try to fit in.

"Anything else?" Dainn inquired. "Hopefully something less ridiculous?"

"Well there is more, but I'm afraid that's the end of the actual useful information. The rest of it was-" Vestri glared at his pet, whose smile quickly faded as she shrunk down to the floor in shame. "-useless female gossip about people nobody cares about. Some stupid thing about a female student of their ruler, and a seamstress in a place called Ponyville. Some old tale about some sort of 'mare in the moon'. Some stallion called Fancy Pants. Garbage, all of it."

Dainn rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Sorry, my Lord," Vestri looked back at his leige apologetically. "I wish I had more, but-"

"At this point, Vestri, I would suggest inquiring with Etadys in order to pry more... useful information from this female." Dainn interrupted.

"Sir, you can't-" Vestri began to protest.

"I can, as my right as King." Dainn shut him down. "Or rather, I would, but there's one problem. A mere hour before this meeting, I have learned that Etadys is no longer with us."

A collective gasp filled the room.

"Tell me it isn't so!" Anvari shouted. "Was it just like the others?" Nothri added.

"I'm afraid so." Dainn replied to the council.

"When did this happen?" Throtr demanded.

"We still aren't sure when exactly it occurred, however from what I could gather, I believe it occurred within the timeframe of us fighting the fires and us calling this meeting." Dainn responded informally. "This does however bring us to our next topic, and the real reason why we're all here."

"The Ghost." Vestri responded. "It's what the ponies are calling it."

"Yes." The king nodded thoughtfully. "The menace that has been plaguing us ever since our takeover. Killing our men, and now sabotaging our equipment and supplies. Already, several lives has been lost due to this agitator, or agitators, and his or their attacks. Both from direct assaults, and those lives lost fighting the fires, of which we have safely ruled out to be the work of accident or coincidence, given the timing and nature of the attack. So far however, no one, neither stag nor pony, has been able to come up with any sort of identification for our saboteur, whoever they or he may be." Dainn's eyes swept the room. "I do not suppose anyone has anything to contribute on that front?"

Everyone looked at each other nervously. Including Sunny.

"I didn't think so." Dainn grumbled. "Perhaps half a day was too much to ask. But this meeting was a priority in light of recent circumstances. In that case, I'm afraid we don't have much to go on beyond speculation and deduction."

"Do you think it's an actual ghost?" Anvari questioned nervously.

"Don't be stupid." Ivangir grunted "There's no such thing as ghosts. It's just stupid stuff we tell young cows to scare them into submission."

"Yes, quite so." Dainn nodded in agreement. "I do believe this 'Ghost' to be very much mortal. As such, I have already deduced that there are 5 possibilities as to the nature of our attacker" Dainn cleared his throat with a small cough before he continued.

"The first possibility: the ponies are forming a secret militia and actively sabotaging our efforts, and are somehow operating under our radar. Given the recent escape attempt, that doesn't seem unlikely in the slightest."

A few silent nods of agreement met the king's words.

"Which brings us to the second possibility: that our saboteur came with us, and has been with us all along." Small gasps escaped from the councils lips as suspicious looks were exchanged. Chatter began to fill the room.

"Silence!" Dainn ordered, sticking his palms into the air and motioning them to order. The council promptly obeyed, their chattering falling silent as their gaze was fixated on the king once more. "As I said, the second possibility, if I am right, and I have no reason to doubt otherwise, is we have a traitor within our ranks who is actively plotting to undermine our efforts for unknown reasons. Unfortunately, I do not know of any-"

"Gunne. Calling it now." Ivangir shouted. Murmurs of agreement and nods permeated throughout the room from everyone present, with the sole exception of Dainn, whom despite his best efforts to hide it, held an expression of disgust - and Sunny, who had no idea who they were talking about at all.

"Ivangir, we've talked about this not even a few minutes ago. If you are going to accuse someone, even him, you had better have some proof to back it up-"

"He's cursed. And he can't even keep his little shit of a sister in line. Isn't that proof enough?" Ivangir whined.

"No, it is not. I want some solid evidence, not worthless fairy tales. I will not allow this forum to be derailed for the sake of pointless, pathetic vendettas. If you interrupt this meeting with your antics again, and I will be forced to use a silencing rune on you. Surely you are mature enough that this is not required?"

Ivangir gave a disapproving grunt in response. Dainn once again cleared his throat.

"I thought so. As for everyone else, I am not accusing anyone of anything yet. There isn't enough evidence, that I'm aware of, to confirm this possibility, however likely it is. Besides, there are still other possibilities to consider. That being said however, this is the most likely scenario, if not the only possible one given the circumstances. A traitor would certainly know our patrol routes and inner workings enough to gain access to our supplies in order to sabotage them, and be inconspicuous enough to go unnoticed. Now, if no one else has an insightful comments, I will continue."

Dainn did exactly that. "Third possibility: A military force or agent sent by this 'Princess Celestia' is attacking us."

Ivangir looked like he wanted to respond with another outburst, but a quick glare from both the king and his own brother shut that down quickly.

"Fourth Possibility: This 'Celestia' or someone under her employ is using some unfamiliar magics to attack us from outside the town, or cause us to attack one another."

A muffled snirk came from Sindri's lips.

"Fifth and final possibility: None of the above. An entity known to neither us nor the ponies is attacking us from within for reasons unknown." Anvari looked like he was about to say something, but Dainn quickly shut him down with "and yes Anvari, that includes a literal ghost."

Anvari sunk back into his chair as Dainn took another long breath.

"You may discuss now."

"My lord." Nothri began. "I've spoken with the runemasters, and they have confirmed that, the escape attempt aside, no one has entered or left this town since we've arrived."

"That safely eliminates possibility four." Dainn commented.

"Cunts can't plan. So that leaves out possibility three." Vestri boasted.

"Indeed." Dainn chuckled. "Indeed, they can't. Unfortunately I can neither prove nor disprove the fifth possibility, and it's extremely unlikely anyway, so that leaves possibilities one and two."

"So what do we do about it?" Asked Throtr.

"For now, step up and continue patrols. Also, we must redouble our efforts in interrogating the ponies for any information at all. That includes the stallions, especially the stallions."

Dainn took a long breath of air before continuing.

"Let me be perfectly clear about something regarding the stallions: They are not our friends, no matter how much we would like them to be. At least, not yet. They are not enlightened to the proper way of things, and will continue to resist us for the sake of their cunt overlords until they are forced to see things our way. Even if they pretend to be on our side, always assume that they are doing exactly that: pretending. Humor them, and guide them proper, but do not trust them under any circumstance."

"On a related note" Dainn continued, raising a finger to enunciate his point, "The ceremony is cancelled until we get this situation completely under control. This is our top priority as of today. Not only does this upstart or group of upstarts present an obstacle for our goals, but also because it might give the ponies the..." Dainn paused, his eyes slowly sweeping the room before he continued, "...Wrong idea. If these attacks continue, it might give them the impression that we could be defeated. If that thought gets into their head, they will not accept the true way of things. Instead, they will rail and resist at every opportunity they find, compounding our problems even further. If these acts are not the result of them already, uprisings could become a very real possibility. As you well know, I wish to avoid any unnecessary pony casualties in this campaign if at all possible for a number of reasons, and it would be unfortunate if we had to reverse that policy because of some misguided hopes and fears on their part."

"Also," Dainn looked around the room suspiciously. "Keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior amongst our so-called brethren. Especially the lower ranks. As much as I would wish our people to be better than this, a traitor amongst our ranks is extremely likely, if not a certainty. Especially given a certain..." He paused, narrowing his eyes with disgust, "... incident with the other ships. I am all but sure that our misfortune is the work of a rogue stag or stags on our part, as there is almost no other feasible possibility. No one else could slip in unnoticed this easily, or move about with such ease. I want this man or group of men found, bound, and properly punished if he exists."

Dainn took a deep breath. "Alright, this concludes the meeting. Get out there and find who is responsible for this. For all of our sakes."

With that, everyone except for Dainn rose from their seats, and headed to the door. Vestri tugged on his pet's leash, and she crawled beside him.

Dainn remained where he was, watching the tail end of Vestri's pet, whose name he cared not to remember the name of, vanish behind the door. The second that happened, the king let out a long sigh and slumped back into his "throne", itself nothing more than a regular chair the ponies had on hand at the time.

After a moment, he sat upright, only to place both of his elbows on the table in front of him, exposing his palms into the open air. They didn't remain this way for long, for soon they once again played host to the stag's face, which let out another long sigh of frustration.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." The king groaned into the silence that filled the room as he took in everything that had happened - not just the attacks, but the fact that his own men, which he'd taken careful pains to hand pick himself, had abandoned him when he needed them the most.

A knock on the door interrupted said silence, and the king's own thoughts. The king grumbled to himself, a look of sheer disgust plastered on his face. Part of him wanted to tell the offending knocker to go away and leave him alone, but he knew at this time he couldn't afford that.

"Ugh. Come in." He snarled begrudgingly. His expression softened however when a familiar figure came into view. A figure near and dear to the king.

"Gunne." The king greeted.

"Sorry my lord, is this a bad time?" Gunne responded a bit worriedly.

"No-ho-ho, of course not." The king laughed insincerely. "Whatever gave you that idea? Please, come in, sit down. Make yourself comfortable." He extended a hand to a now empty chair next to him.

Gunne took the invitation, planting himself in the chair nearest to his king.

"I saw Ivangir on the way out." Gunne started.

"Of course." The king responded. "Did he say anything?"

"Something under his breath I suppose. Didn't catch it all. Something about 'one day.'" Gunne responded.

"Ah. You know he thinks you're responsible for all of this?" The king sighed.

"He can't seriously believe that, can he?" Gunne responded with a slightly worried tone.

"He's a moron. Of course he does." The king groaned as he rubbed his forehead, not even trying to hide the disdain he had for his left-hand stag.

"And, you, my King?" Gunne asked, slightly nervously.

"Ha. If I suspected you to be the traitor, You'd be in chains, not sitting next to me having a casual conversation, my friend."

The two of them shared a little laugh.

"No, but seriously, I have sufficient evidence that proves beyond a doubt that you had nothing to do with this." The king assured. "Tell me, have you heard about Etady's death?"

"I have. Apparently, he was found dead after the fires were put out in his 'home'." Gunne responded.

"And do you know how exactly he died?" Dainn questioned. Gunne gave a small shrug in response.

"Didn't think so. I've been keeping that part under wraps. The truth is, Etadys was the only victim thus far to be stabbed, through the chest, rather than the usual method our assassin seems so adept at using for this - with a weapon that the assassin was kind enough to leave behind."

Dainn reached into his armor, and produced a blade, which he laid on the table and slid over to Gunne, who picked up the weapon and began to look it over.

It looked very different from the knives and daggers used by the caribou. Too straight, too narrow. Its blade didn't have the weird shape of Etadys' ritual seaxes, looking closer to a normal, everyday caribou knifr. The long, thing nature of the blade meant it was more than likely used for stabbing rather than cutting. Unlike ordinary knives, it also had a round, ornate handle, and a small, round guard between the handle and the blade. The hilt was wrapped in a black, ornate set of intersecting clothes. They were wrapped in such a way that they left five diamond shaped "holes" between then, revealing the material below. The materials were nothing like the caribou ever used, and this blade design was unknown to them.

"Very unusual weapon" Gunne commented as he slid his finger along the rounded hilt. "Is this what the ponies here use?"

"It doesn't seem like it." Dainn responded. "I had the good mayor have a look at it before the meeting, and even he's said he's never seen or even heard of anything like this either. Here or anywhere."

"Very interesting, but I fail to see the point." Gunne responded, placing the blade back on the table and sliding back to Dainn. "No pun intended." He quickly added.

"True enough: This blade on its own wouldn't be near enough to exonerate you, thought it would cast considerable doubt on you as a suspect. No, here's what's real important: Gunne, how much do you know about Bonemasters? More specifically, how they pass their mantles onto their chosen apprentice? Or how they write runes upon their own bones?"

"Isn't there some huge ritual of ascension? I mean, that is usually how the others do it. A test, a feast, and an orgy. Not necessarily in that order? And as for the writing-on-bones thing. I admit, I've never really thought about it. The explanation I was given the one time I asked was that he wrote on his bone little by little, staving off pain and infection by means of his studies. Of course, I always found that a little hard to believe, but up until you asked, my lord-"

"When it's just the two of us, Gunne, just call me Dainn. No need for formalities among friends." The king corrected.

"Yes M- Dainn. But yes, until you asked, I never had any real reason to doubt this explanation even though I never really believed it myself." Gunne responded.

"Ah, the classic 'he writes it little at a time' line. Amazing, isn't it, what people will believe?"

"So it's nonsense then?" Gunne asked.

"Of course it's nonsense. Back when we still had a library, I spent my time studying the ins and outs of runes, what they mean, how they work. All in an effort to improve them. That was before I took the mantle of king and escaped with our people to escape The Cycle. Point is, there is nothing runes can do that can prevent you from catching infections like this, particularly when you cut yourself open constantly, just to write on your own bones. And that's not factoring in the pain of flaying your own nerves over and over to do such a thing. In fact, such a thing, even amongst our own people, is completely impossible."

"Then why tell people this?" Gunne asked, holding his hands out in front of him as he exposed his palms to the ceiling in a questioning jesture. "Why tell peope this obviously fake explanation?"

"The short version," Dainn began, "is that it's to shut people up. Give them an explanation that sounds 'badass'..." He made quotes with his fingers before continuing, "...And they don't care how implausible it really is. You, among all people, should know how easily we are swayed into blindly accepting whatever whimsical thing tradition and ideology says is true."

Gunne scratched the back of his own head as a look of unease crept across his face. It didn't take a genius to figure out the fact that Dainn was referring to Gunne's status as a 'cursed one', simply because he had been 'unfortunate' enough to share a space in his mother's belly with his sister at the same time.

"But nonetheless, there is a much greater reason the truth behind the Master of Bones isn't told to the public at large. A reason that removes you as a suspect beyond all possible doubt. However, Gunne, I must have your absolute word on this. What I am about to reveal to you must never leave this room. Swear it." Dainn commanded.

Gunne raised his right hand, moving it parallel to his head, as he began.

"I, Gunne, hereby swear, under penalty of the law and lord, that I will not reveal what my lord will reveal unto me."

"That'll do." Dainn nodded, and Gunne put his hand down as he listened. "Now, what I will reveal revolves around the ritual of ascension. You said earlier that it revolves around a test, feasting, and orgy. Not necessarily in that order. In all other runic disciplines, this assumption is correct. All but one: The discipline of bones. For the Master of Bones and his apprentice, there is no test. No feast. No orgy. Nothing. Instead, the ritual of ascension is much different. During the night of the ritual, the master murders his chosen apprentice in his sleep."

Gunne wore an expression of disbelieving shock on his face, yet remained quiet as the king continued his explanation.

"The master then takes the body of the apprentice to an altar he had prepared in secret ahead of time. The master begins to cut the flesh of the now deceased apprentice, exposing the bones to the open air. During the night, he draws upon the bones and flesh of the dead student-" Dainn paused as he noticed the sickened look on his friend's face. "-Need a moment? You look like you're about to vomit all over the table."

Gunne shook his head, urging his friend and liege to continue.

"Fine, I'll cut to the chase. When this is complete, the master will then reanimate his student with magics that I do not understand, nor wish to. He uses both his own life force, and that of an unwilling virgin sacrifice to do the deed. Usually a cow, raised in isolation from birth specifically for this purpose, but I suspect a mare would have sufficed for this task as well had Etadys 'lived' long enough to undergo this ritual himself. When the ritual is completed, the apprentice-turned-master would find himself alone, with only the fallen corpses of both the cow and his former master to keep him company. He would spend the next few days mending his own body before returning to the world, and more importantly, to the service of the king as the new Master of Bones." Dainn finished.

"That's... You mean..." Gunne gasped. "All along, Etadys was a zombie?"

The king nodded in confirmation. "Correct, save for one minor detail. He was not a zombie, but a Lich."

"But-" Gunne stammered, "But I thought our people banned necromancy eons ago!"

"Also correct." The king responded once again with a nod. Despite everything the caribou said and did, there were places even they wouldn't allow each other to go, necromancy and necrophilia being one of them. "Except for this one single case. The Master of Bones was allowed to continue this practice of necromancy for the sole reason of preserving the knowledge and services that it brings to the court of the king. Knowledge that now appears to be lost forever."

"So that's the reason we're given the bullshit explanation of the writing-on-bones thing. To hide this defilement of nature from the public." Gunne responded, getting another nod from the king. "But, I still don't understand what any of this has to do with me? Or this weapon?" He once again held up the knife. "Why tell me all of this?"

"Simple, my boy." The king responded calmly. "Now that you know the true nature of the Master of Bones, you should know why he is also extremely hard to kill. They cannot be choked, they cannot bleed to death. If you broke his spine, it would slow him down, but not kill him outright. If you stabbed him, it wouldn't phase him."

"Then how did he do it with this knife?" Gunne responded with the obvious question.

"Because while a lich is hard to kill, it does not mean it is impossible. There are of course the usual methods spoken about when it comes to killing a member of the walking dead. Immolation under very extreme heat, disintegration, a form of legendary light magic that has been lost to tales and time, etc. However, most of these are easily blocked through the use of our rune armors. But there is one particular method that allows an attacker to engage a member of the living dead as if they were a regular foe of flesh and blood. Take a closer look at that knife, Gunne. Tell me, what do you see?"

Gunne once again inspected the knife. He noted the distinct lack of blood, but given what he had just learned, this didn't surprise him much. Beyond this however, he could notice nothing unusual, strange design aside. No runes. No traces of magic. Nothing. However, now that he did look at the blade, it did seem to glimmer a bit brightly for an ordinary steel blade.

"Give up?" Dainn questioned. "I suppose not. It's not immediately noticeable, and even I didn't notice it until I really looked at it. The blade is either coated with, or made entirely out of silver."

"Silver?" Gunne responded, running a finger along the flat side of the blade.

"Yes. Silver. Silver disrupts the necromantic enchantments keeping the undead creature 'alive', so to speak. When cut or stabbed with a weapon made of silver, it causes the creature to 'bleed magic', much like a member of the living would bleed blood. Thus, a stab wound with a normal steel weapon might not have phased Etadys, but a stab with this thing killed him just like any mortal man."

"I... I did not know that." Gunne responded, handing the knife back to his king.

"Exactly." The king beamed as he returned the object from whence it had came, "There was no way you could have known any of this. You couldn't have known that Etadys was a lich, let alone how to actually kill him. That's a closely guarded royal secret, something only the king, the Gods, and the occasional apprentice know about. Ergo, it could not have been you behind the attack."

"But sir, what does that mean for the actual killer?" Gunne asked a bit scaredly.

"It means our assassin, or possibly assassins, know exactly what they are doing. Or they are getting their orders from someone, or something, that does.

"Then why tell the council what you did? About the list of suspects?" Gunne inquired.

"You were listening?" The king asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I was waiting outside and managed to hear some things, yes." Gunne responded. "I wasn't able to make out all of it, but I was able to make out that part."

"Y-hou-o little sneak." Dainn smiled as he rubbed Gunne's hair in a friendly way, something that got a laugh out of the latter. After this playful gesture however, the king's expression returned to its normal, serious tone. "To answer your question though. The council is... how do I put this in a professional way?"

"They're all idiots." Gunne sighed.

"Well, not idiots. I mean they are the best and the brightest of their cra-" Dainn suddenly gave up and sighed. "Oh who am I kidding? Yes, they're idiots. Idiots that are never able to see outside the box, idiots that would rather jump to the most obvious conclusion than think things through. Especially Ivangir."

Dainn rolled his eyes at the mere mention of his left-hand man.

"I told the council what they wanted to hear, simply because they could not process anything else. And because Etdays being undead is- er, was" Dainn corrected himself, "a closely guarded secret. One that I hope will go to the grave with him. I guess that is the one silver lining about all this." Dainn gave a quick glance at the silver dagger on the table, quickly adding "no pun intended."

"Besides," Dainn continued, his gaze once again focused upon his guest. "Perhaps their blind questioning will gleam something useful about the identity of attacker, as much as I doubt that."

"So who do you think is the actual traitor? If it is traitors that is." Gunne asked. "I mean, it's obvious the lower ranks are not the ones behind it. At least not on their own. But..." Gunne paused, trying to frame this question properly. "I hate to suggest this, but do you believe that Vestri or Ivangir are behind this?"

"Ivangir?! Ha! That's a good one!" Dainn laughed. "No, just... no. That stag can barely plan his own breakfast, let alone come up with anything this complicated. I don't doubt for a second that Ivangir would jump at the chance to be in my position, yes. But wanting power and actually taking it are two different things. Plots are not his style, nor anything involving any sort of thinking outside of 'which cunt to beat today?' He is my left hand because of his ability to keep everyone in line, not because of his intellect."

Dainn looked at Gunne in earnest.

"Believe me, if I had my absolute way, I'd put you in that position instead of him in a heartbeat."

"-Unfortunately the rest of the council wouldn't stand for that. Not for a second" Gunne finished sadly.

"Right you are." Dainn sighed. "Right you are. If I threw Ivangir out of that position tomorrow and put you instead, I guarantee there would be a coup the very next day. And that's the last thing anyone needs right now."

Gunne bowed his head in shame. His unfortunate birth-related circumstances had screwed him over once again. Dainn, seeing his despair, reached under his chin, lifting it up to meet his own reassuring eyes.

"I haven't forgotten my promise to you though. When we do get out of this, and when this land is under our heel, I will set you up with some sort of position. Even if it's small and unnoticeable. Like being in charge of a small town or something."

Gunne smiled a bit. Dainn retracted his hand and resumed his stern, serious expression.

"But back to the topic at hand." He continued. "No, Ivangir is nowhere smart enough to pull something like this. Now his brother, on the other hand..."

Dainn paused thoughtfully.

"Vestri is a stag of a whole different color. Unlike the others, he is both intelligent and devious, though more the latter than the former. Not to mention, the motive is definitely there. Sure, he acts loyal and may smile and nod whenever spoken to. But even I can tell that he has... less than noble ambitions in that head of his. Indeed, I did suspect him at first. I still wouldn't put it past him in fact."

The king took a deep breath of air before continuing.

"There are a few problems with the idea that he's the one pulling the strings behind these attacks, though. A few things that don't add up." The king continued. "First of all is the very reason you yourself are in the clear: I doubt even Vestri is smart enough to know about Etady's 'condition', much less how to deal with it so... elegantly. Especially since he can no longer sneak about the restricted section of the library to find out these sorts of things anymore."

Dainn scratched his chin as he continued.

"But it's not the only thing that doesn't add up. Or even the biggest. The biggest problem with it is: why go about it like this? I could argue that he's trying to undermine me, make our people doubt my abilities as a ruler. But the way our attacker or attackers is-slash-are attacking us seems to suggest that they're trying to undermine our efforts as a whole, not just mine. Besides, if this was some plot by Vestri to make me look weak as a leader, why hasn't he made his move yet? There's a separate reason for that of course, but I'll come back to that. Point is, why burn our supplies, instead of just say, the cows and mares in an effort to turn everyone against me? Why burn our ships and send the rest of the fleet scattering like rats when he could use those men for his own agenda? After all, even if he overthrew me, there will still be a food and supply shortage, thus it would damage his own position. Not to mention, if he had any intention of doing anything more than holding this town for a month a best, he'd need the manpower to continue our conquest. No, he's not that stupid. It simply doesn't make much sense if one really thinks about it... unless he really is as stupid as his brother."

"Which I"m guessing is the other reason you don't suspect Vestri?" Gunne interjected. "Because if he got rid of you, his brother would likely become king instead of him due to being the older?"

"Right you are, Gunne." The king said. "Right you are. It's another bone-headed tradition of ours. Giving the reigns to the eldest rather than the most capable or most intelligent. Myself being the obvious exception due to circumstance. But still."

Dainn sighed. "You know, here's another thing that doesn't leave this room, you understand. Just something to get off my chest."

"Of course." Gunne responded reassuringly.

"There's a small part of me, very very small mind you, that actually wishes the assassin would succeed with what they're trying to do. If they're doing what I think they're doing."

Gunne remained silent.

"There are days I look upon the unchanging nature of our people, how boneheaded we all are. How we base everything around sex. How we ignore our problems and hope they go away. I mean, it's how we got into this whole mess with The Cycle to begin with. Not to mention the shipwreck that is my council." Dainn buried his head in his hands.

Gunne looked thoughtful. A sudden idea came to him, but he wasn't sure how to formulate it. Or even if he should ask it at all. He struggled to find a way to formulate it so that it wouldn't ruin his relationship with the king by putting his own loyalties into doubt.

The king however, was one step ahead of him. "I can tell from the look on your face you're trying to ask me something. Something I might not want to be asked. I can even take a gander of what that question is."

The king placed his hands on the table in front of him.

"You are going to ask if I'm the traitor?" The king chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you for having that thought, just this once. You'd be foolish not to suspect me with everything I just said, after all. I'm the only one who knows about Etady's condition. I didn't go along with the hunt. I could go literally anywhere in this town, do just about anything, and no one would question it. Even if a cunt or stallion saw me kill someone right in front of them, no one in the army would be dumb enough to believe them, much less act upon it. Not to mention I just called my own councilmen and people stupid right in front of you. It does certainly place the finger of suspicion in my own court. Allow me to answer your question with another: 'If I was the traitor, how would I go about this?'."

The king leaned back in his chair as he gave his response to his own question.

"If it was me, Gunne, we wouldn't even be having this conversation right now. If I truly held this much disdain for our people that I wanted them to die off, I would have simply left everyone else to die back home. Instead of gathering several thousand followers, I would have reduced it down to you, a few cows for breeding, one ship, and then settled on some nice little island rather than this sorry excuse for a town. As you can see, that is not the case."

"So if it is not traitors, could it be the townsponies?" Gunne asked.

"First of all, I haven't ruled out traitors." Dainn answered. "That is still likely. In fact, Etady's murder could just be a red herring. Though the nature of the weapon and level of preparedness behind this attack makes this unlikely. Back to the ponies, though. I find the idea that a bunch of leaderless captives organising something this complicated and clever this quickly, or having someone amongst them this skilled that could get in and out around the town without anyone knowing to be very unlikely. Unlikely, but not impossible. If that was the case though, we would have more than likely acquired some sort of clue pointing to that by now. The thing about conspiracies is, that the more people, and especially females, that are involved with them, the more likely one of them will slip up or sell someone out. That's just how this sort of thing works."

"So if it's not Vestri, the townsfolk, or forgive me, yourself, do you think it might be Celestia or some of her minions?" Gunne inquired.

"Among the council, I would laugh and dismiss the idea right off the bat. After all, how could a mere cunt plan and pull something like this? The idea is, at least according to our own way of thinking, ridiculous. But we both know the result of blindly following our ideology, don't we?" Dainn sighed. "Our continual wars with the Cats should have taught us that much."

"Do you think they're responsible?" Gunne interrupted.

"Who? The Cats?" Dainn asked, getting a nod from Gunne in response. "I can't say for sure, but I don't think so. From what little I read on Equestria before our home was destroyed, there was no mention of the cats, so I don't think they are here. Or at least, let's hope not. I'll just put them under possibility 5 for now. But back to Celestia."

Dainn sighed thoughtfully before resuming is train of audible thought. "The truth is, I find her involvement in this more likely than we'd like to believe. After all, we know very little about this land. And even less about this 'Celestia' bitch. She is, sadly, a complete unknown in terms of capability. A problem we'll have to rectify once we sort out this agitator of ours."

"But no." Dainn shook his head slightly. "I do not believe it is her work either. First of all, our plan worked perfectly. No one got in or out of the city, the latter notwithstanding this morning's escape of course. So there is no way anyone could have warned her, at least that we know of. In addition, our runemasters still report that no one actually left the city, even after their failed escape. Nor entered, for that matter. Yet we were under siege by this vandal almost as soon as we took the city. That fact wasn't obvious until today, but the deaths of the Blacksmith and several guards in the area prove that this wasn't the first target our ghost has struck. I doubt Celestia could have been notified let alone been able to act this quickly."

Dainn scratched the side of his head as he thought. "Unless of course, our rune magic is not as effective as we would like to think it is. That of course cannot be ruled out."

The king shook his head. "But the biggest reason I don't think Celestia is behind this is quite simple. If the ruler of this land was behind this, I suspect we'd be facing an army in a direct assault, rather than murder and sabotage from within. Either that, or some sort of champion or champions would come and try to challenge me directly. After all, if Vestri's pet is to be trusted on this, although I suspect otherwise, Celestia does have a contingent of royal guards, presumably for this very reason. I also do not believe we are dealing with some sort of elite strike force either, for the same reasons."

"Still," Dainn sighed. "I cannot rule it out. As I've said, we know little to nothing about her or her capabilities, much less her combat strategy. Perhaps sending ponies in with magical artifacts to undermine their enemies from within is her strategy after all. Or perhaps the attack is still coming, and this was just an attempt to 'soften us up', as it were. We shall have to see."

"But that only leaves the last option." Gunne finished. "An entity unknown to either us nor the ponies."

"Unfortunately, it is paradoxically both the least likely and the most likely scenario" Dainn confirmed. "Unless the princess or her minions have a secret way into the city which we cannot pick up, or the ponies are far more competent than we care to admit, or Vestri is simultaneously smarter and stupider than I've given him credit for, I can only suspect that whatever is attacking us was here right from the very beginning. Possibly even waiting for us to arrive. Something that neither the ponies, nor even the princess even knows about. Something that does not want us to succeed for its own purposes."

Dainn let out a breath before resuming his thoughts. "Whatever is the case however, one thing is clear: This is not the work of a novice. This is not the work of some ragtag team of untrained townsponies or a disgruntled stag trying to be what they think are heroes. This is the work of a highly trained, highly skilled individual or individuals. Whoever is doing this knows exactly what they are doing. Or they are taking orders from someone who does. Either way, those responsible know where to hit us the hardest, how to hit us, and more importantly, who to hit and when."

"So it's a race against the clock to figure out where they'll strike next." Gunne commented. "Or who."

"Exactly." The king sighed. "I'm making a lot of assumptions, but if I was the assassin... Hmmm, I believe their true targets are the council. And myself. They haven't come after us directly yet, but I'm guessing they're trying to cripple and divide us before getting to that point. I'm guessing the attack on the ship was to prevent us from fleeing the town. If I'm right about this, our assassin is trying to make sure that the royal line ends with me. As long as I'm around, the caribou still have some hope of survival. As long as one of the council is still around, I can be replaced. Not easily, but possible. Thus, I suspect they are trying to both make it impossible for us to survive here without giving away our position to this land's rulers, and remove any possible leadership our people might rally around. But in order to do that, they'd still need another distraction. Not to mention we still have supplies that weren't on the ship. They could attack them directly, but those warehouses are well guarded by this point. Where, where could they strike next?"

Both Dainn and Gunne were lost in thought, trying to come up with any possible target. Suddenly, Gunne rose from his seat.

"I got it! I know where they'll go next." Gunne shouted.

"Really?" Dainn questioned. "Where?!"

"There's only one thing around here that cause as much, if not more of a distraction than escaping townsfolk." Gunne explained excitedly "Something that if let loose, we'd be hard pressed to contain, essentially giving the assassin free reign to do whatever he, she, or it wants to during that window of opportunity. It's a longshot, but if I'm right about this, he could release them, and cause them to go on a rampage and burn what's left of the town down."

"You... You don't mean-"

"I do!" Gunne responded frantically. "We need to get guards to lock down the-"

Suddenly, the door flew open. Into the room stumbled a shaking, wide eyed stag. He leaned down, panting as he caught his breath.

"My lord, the warbeasts have gotten loose, and are burning everything in sight! We don't know how they escaped, or what's causing them to go mad."

Dainn and Gunne gave a horrified look to one another.

"The Ghost." They both said to one another, the king stumbling to his feet as the stags rushed out the door, leaving behind only an empty office.

They were too late.