Fall of Equestria: The Ghost of Lindisbarne

by rylasasin

Rating: mature
Tags: Horror, Anthro, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Other, Original Character, Mystery, Sex
Length: 26778

The caribou have landed and taken the town of Lindisbarne, but a spectre dogs their every move. Can they defeat it, or will the Ghost snatch defeat from the jaws of victory?

The caribou arrive in Lindisbarne. Their takeover plot is successful, the ponies are captured with very little real resistance. Nothing stands in the way of their lofty plans for this new land.
... Or so it seems. Unbeknownst to them someone, or something, is stalking them from the shadows. The hunter will soon become the hunted. Can Dainn and his councilstags figure out what it is and stop it in time, or will the caribou themselves be crushed under the weight of their own fears?

An alternate universe of Twipet's Sun's Setting. Vaguely related to Aristagtle's Shattered Order as it may reference a character or two from that series.

Cover by Scylla.

Published 2017-08-28 21:00:11 UTC
Last updated 2020-07-14 12:09:42 UTC

Prologue

Chaos. Terror. Rape. These words perfectly described what was going on in the streets of Lindisbarne. Where only moments ago said streets had seen joyous frivolity and mirth, where the air had been filled with laughter and cheers of mares and stallions alike, now it was filled with the screams and cries of the innocent, the crackle of flames as buildings burned all around, and the laughter of those who hunted them down and violated the bodies of those unfortunate enough to be female and caught, and the wails of rage and torment of those unfortunate enough to be the latter but not the former.

All of this had been brought about by those who, moments before, had been the object of celebration in the first place: the caribou. More specifically, the males. Upon their arrival, a huge party had been conceived in their honor to welcome them. However, their intents had been less than benevolent, a fact that the townsponies found out all too late. In but a moment, the stags had taken to looting, burning, and pillaging what they could find. But most of all, to ripping the clothes off of any mares they could find, laughing at said mare's futile attempts to resist with sadistic glee as they violated any and all orifices their victim's bodies had to offer, with only sneers and jeers to give in return for the screams of both their victims and of any stallion brave and foolish enough to try to stop them, either physically or with useless verbal threats and pleads. All the while their possessions were burned, destroyed, or taken from them by force if the invaders thought they were "valuable" enough.

And above it all, perched on a building overlooking, stood a lone figure, watching everything unfold, from the party to the hell that now engulfed the town.

It watched as a small squad of the bipedal beasts kicked down the door to a nearby house, storming inside not even a second after the door flew off its hinges. A shrill female scream erupted from inside, followed immediately by a male's shouted protests. The sounds of electricity could be heard, followed immediately by the desperate screams of the male or males briefly filling the air before suddenly growing quiet. The mare inside screamed out her presumed companion's name, a crash then followed from inside, followed by the sounds of feet desperately pattering against wood. A pony bearing a dark purple coat with a dark red mane and a female form was then pressed against the glass of the building. A big, dark brown hand appeared over her breast, roughly grabbing it as the female screamed , a dark and horned silhouette appeared in the window at that moment. The mare tossed about, trying desperately to get out of the offending creature's grasp, but it was for naught. As she struggled, the hand covering her right breast made a grab for her right arm, holding the mare firm as his left grabbed the rough fabric covering her left side, and with a quick yank the tank top was roughly ripped from the mare's body, destroying the only protection her breasts had from the open air. A scream escaped the mares lips, her struggles doubling as her breasts now jiggled loosely in the open air for all below to see, as a haughty laugh escaped from the offending figure's own mouth. The stag behind her made a grab for her hips. Despite the mare's best efforts to get away from him, the beast had no trouble digging his fingers under her pants and undergarments, a fact that became all too apparent as the clothing soon joined the fate of its counterpart, being ripped roughly from the mare’s body, leaving her nude, exposed, and vulnerable.

"SOMEBODY! HELP MEEE-" She screamed to the streets below as she was suddenly dragged away from the window. A trio of laughs and jeers of "worthless female" came from inside. Her screams turned to sobs briefly, before the banging of limbs hitting the wooden floor once again emanated from the house. The mare inside could be heard begging, pleading with her tormentors not to do... something. A request that was obviously denied, as a moment later it was followed by the shrillest scream the mare had given yet. A scream that was soon reduced to a loud muffled moan as something blocked her mouth.

Despite her pleas to any observers, she would receive no help. No one would come to her aid, as no one was able to themselves escape their own ordeals involving these beasts. In another part, a large and ugly large-faced quadrapedal beast burned part of a building. In another , mares that were stripped naked, crying, and freshly violated if the copious amounts of liquid dripping from their orifices were of any indication, were being bound with leather by their hands and feet, and then dumped unceremoniously onto a pile. From here they would presumably be taken elsewhere later. Or in some cases, immediately, as stags would pick one up, hoist them over their shoulder, and despite their cries of protest, would carry them off to gods-know-where for another round of violation and degradation to suit the stag's insatiable sexual appetites. All while new ones were being dumped into the pile to replace them. The stallions shared a similar fate, most of which were knocked out, while some were shouting muffled protests and some were even trying, in vain, to wiggle their way out of the ropes. Unlike the mares, the stags ignored these bound captives for the most part, only giving them a slight kick when one was making a little too much noise or struggling a little too hard for their liking.

From the building above, a grunt escaped the overlooking figure's throat despite its mouth remaining closed throughout the whole ordeal. It mumbled something in its observations as it looked away from this scene. Something about pathetic creatures. One could not tell however whether the figure was referring to the stags or the hapless ponies. Or both, for that matter.

Without any warning, the cloaked silhouette leapt from its perch to the side of the building, disappearing into the alley behind it, unaware that his movements did not go completely unnoticed.

"Hey, I think thought I saw something over there." A caribou said to his fellow standing next to him.

"Really? Where?" His comrade replied.

"Up there. It was only there for a moment, but I could have swore I saw something jump down. I think. Might have been-"

"Don't think." The stag next to him, apparently his commander, interrupted rudely. "Find out. You heard our Lord. No one escapes."

"Alright, but if it's a cunt, I call dibs."

The stag soldier in command nodded in response, the two of them quickly taking off towards the alleyway where he believed somepony had jumped into. In the alley they saw something alright. But it was not what either had expected, or hoped to find.

"Sir!" The caribou at the end of the alley way saluted. "I thought I saw a runner over here, but it seems I was mi-stag-en." The stag laughed.

"Soldier, this is no time for idiotic puns". The stag commander growled. "Did you or did you not see anything this way?"

"Sorry. No sir. I thought I did, but apparently not. Just a lonely bunch of stags back here."

"Great. Just great." The commander sighed. "See?" He turned towards his subordinate. "This is why I told you not to sample the drinks before the attack started."

"But I didn't! I swear!"

"Yes, I've been stag-ber all day!" The other one laughed, earning another growl from their superior, and an eyeroll from his fellow.

"Oh great, I was hoping for another cunt to stick my dick in, and instead I find a frickin' clown back here." He growled.

"Let's just get out of this dump." He ordered "If we're lucky we might still catch a cunt or two before the day's out."

The two subordinates nodded to each other, and left with their superior.

Chapter 1

Less than a day later, the dust had settled. The caribou had managed to capture every pony in their town without trouble, thanks to the brilliance of their surprise attack. Those cunts not "selected" as personal pets for the council members or being used by the lower ranks had been stuffed into a warehouse for safekeeping. They'd taken to repurposing the other warehouses and buildings for their own usage, throwing out the garbage they couldn't use and putting what they'd taken with them on their pillgrimage into them.

None of that was on the mind of a certain stag blacksmith though, as he pounded away on an anvil. What was instead on his mind was the state of "his" shop. Said shop, whose previous occupant had obviously been a pony, was a mess. If he would have been in the mood for guessing, the stag would have had to guess it belonged to a worthless cunt before it was liberated for malekind, if one were to buy that bullshit, but he wasn't. It mattered little to who it belonged to, this sorry excuse for a smithy was in shambles, Bits of sharp, hot metal was strewn about here and there, debris everywhere to the point to where he could barely walk let alone work, most of the shelves were broken and needed fixing. He knew in the back of his mind that part of it was due to his own people's invasion, but he still liked to think it was mostly due to the previous pony owner's incompetence.

The bull had rearranged some of this junk into a makeshift seat which he sat upon now as he worked the tiny anvil in front of him. The seat was nowhere near as comfortable, or for that matter stable as he'd have liked it to be, and the anvil It was a lot smaller than it needed to be, but at least it was functional.

Fixing this was not something he could feasibly do at the moment however. Right now, he was swamped with work orders. Including the one he was working on right now: a bit of steel he was shaping out to be a short blade. Then after that, there was this armor for Ivangir that needed straightening. And then there was that project Dainn wanted him to work on. And somewhere between that, he had to find time to discipline that sniveling little mare that lay tied in the next room over.

He felt his dick begin to harden on that last prospect. While it was a chore among many, the burly stag couldn't deny that beating some sense into a hapless female would definitely relieve some stress on his part, even more so when he could then spread her legs and stuff himself inside. A sadistic smile appeared on his lips as he imagined the feeling of the mare futilely beating his arms in a vain attempt to break free of him, the tight feel of her cunt welcoming his ever hardening dick while her muzzle let out a never ending torrent of screams. The mare's loud, whiny sobs had been like a song to his ears when he had first taken her, music he was looking forward to composing yet again after a long day's grind.

He sighed happily at this momentary distraction before returning to his work, beating the sword with the hammer with a quickened pace. The sooner he was done with this, the sooner he could have some much needed fun.

A loud crash from behind him distracted him from his work. A scowl quickly appeared on his face, replacing the dreamy grin that had been there but moments earlier. Groaning, he put his hammer down, and rose from his makeshift seat. The enormous blacksmith turned around to find the source of the noise. It had come from the back a ways behind where he had been sitting. He grumbled as he stumbled through the debris to find the offending noise's origin.

He soon found what had caused the ruckus: a fallen shelf in the back room, its contents spilled all over the floor. It had apparently fallen down while he'd been banging away on his anvil. With a groan, he easily lifted the offending object, and placed it into a corner to take care of when he had the time.

He was in the process of cleaning up the mess that had formed from the shelf's fall when another noise broke his attention. This one was different than before. A shuffling, rather than a loud crash. A shuffling coming from right behind him.

He turned around to confront the offending source. His eyes narrowed into slits at what he saw, only to go as wide as they could not a second later.

The streets outside were busy. Not with ponies going about their daily lives as it had been before, but with stags. Moving cargo, refitting buildings to their purpose. A few were patrolling the streets, looking to catch any remaining stragglers or hiders amongst the townsfolk, but with little luck.

The active cries of a few mares being violated could be heard from a few of the occupied buildings. Their screams echoed through the streets, though no one lifted a finger to help them. Why would they? The stags occupying the streets were the cause of their distress in the first place, as evidenced by the occasional stag leaving a building with a tired, cum-stained and cum-dripping mare thrown over his shoulders, or dragging her along the ground by her legs or arms in the case of the more brutish of the stags. In other parts, the reverse was being played out, with stags carrying or dragging mares, ones which usually had less cum on them but were far more livid, kicking and screaming, into 'their' houses to repeat the process all over again.

Some stags didn't even bother taking their captives into the houses and buildings. The sights and sounds of mares having every orifice the invaders could find being stuffed and pounded full of caribou dick in full view of everystag watching was not an uncommon sight at all after the invasion.

Occasionally, one might catch a glimpse of a stallion trying to rush to the rescue, only to be beaten down and dragged off down the street to join the other stallions in the warehouses.

Down said street walked a stag of great importance to his people, one of the members of the King's inner council, Master Strategist Vestri. He held his chest and head high as he walked the street with a proud strut. His right hand held tightly onto a leash. Attached to said leash was a mare: A certain cunt he liked to call Sunny, his newly acquired pet.

Taking but a moment to look down upon his pet as she begrudgingly fumbled about, the council member mentally groaned as he watched his newly pet flinch with each jab of the rocks below before returning to his prideful strut. He had places to be and things to do, and babying a prissy bitch was not among them.

In fact, it was part of the reason he was out here to begin with. He was on his way to acquire a set of collars for his new pet. A red collar that rewarded her with comfort. And also a black one that punished her with discomfort and pain. The black one would more to scare her into submission more than anything, as she seemed more than willing to submit to anything he demanded of her. He doubted he'd even use it.

Still, it never hurt to be prepared.

"Quite the crowd that's gathered here, it seems." He commented as he turned the corner to the newly established blacksmithery. Indeed, an unusual amount of stags had gathered there. Vestri could guess that the blacksmith would that be very busy this soon after their invasion, but even Vestri didn't think the blacksmith would be this busy.

Still, he was a councilman. If push came to shove, he could always pull rank and shove these stags out of the way. In fact, this was exactly what he had planned to do until a stag within the crowd turned and approached him.

"Sorry sir, but you're going to have to leav-" The stag stopped midway through. "L-Lord Vestri! Forgive me, I didn't know."

"Obviously it's me, private." Vestri responded angrily. "Who did you expect, Sindri?"

"I'm.. a sergeant... sir." The soldier corrected shakily.

"Right, right." Vestri groaned. "Anyway, is there a reason for this blockade, sergeant?! There had better be, and it had better be good. I need these collars made right awa-"

"The blacksmith is dead, sir." The sergeant interrupted.

"What?! Impossible!" Vestri yelled. "I saw him alive earlier today!"

"It's true, sir. I came in to check on a sword I had him work on, and I found him dead."

"Let me see. Now." Vestri commanded. The Sergeant nodded, not about to try to deny a councilman entry, since that would be downright stupid. Vestri stepped past him, and was about to rush into the building when he suddenly remembered he was holding a leash.

"Hey, you!" Vestri yelled to one of the nearby stags. As soon as the stag turned to him, he tossed him the leash holding Sunny.

"Watch my pet until I come back." He ordered. The stag looked at Sunny, flashing a malicious grin at her as she cowered in fear as vestri made his way into the building. Grins that were soon joined by the other stags huddled in the area. One was already making a go for his pants strings when Vestri suddenly stopped.

"Oh, and no, you don't get to play with her. That cunt is mine." Vestri growled, pointing over his shoulder at the stags behind him, not even bothering to turn around. He wiggled his finger at the group angrily. "I find a single spot of cum on or in her that isn't mine, and you'll all be on warbeast manure duty for the next five weeks."

A collected bunch of groans and whines of protest came from the collection of stags. Vestri ignored them as he disappeared inside.

Vestri stumbled around the debris, cursing as his feet brushed against the trash and rubble the blacksmith had strewn about. A second or two later he reached the back room.

Sure enough, the blacksmith was laying on the floor, on his back, and bereft of life. Vestri began to examine the body. His hands lay on either side, palms open. Vestri could see no items that the stag might have been holding prior to meeting his fate. The stag's face shown a permanent look of terror, his mouth was wide open, as was his eyes. Vestri could see that this stag did not die peacefully.

However, something was missing from the scene. Something that he would clearly point to a murder, yet wasn't there. And that item was: blood. There was none of it that he could see. Even as Vestri knelt down and began to more closely inspect the corpse, he could find no signs of struggle on the body. No stabs, cuts, lacerations. Also no marks around the throat indicating any type of strangulation. Neither thin lines indicating any type of rope or similar object, nor any handprints. The only thing of note was a very slight bruise in the middle of his throat, but it certainly wasn't large or deep enough to cause any sort of choking on its own.

That left two possibilities. Poison or Magic. Vestri could almost certainly rule out disease, too sudden. Magic could be tested here and now, in fact. Vestri's horn lit up as his hands hovered and moved along the contours of the deceased stag.

"Nothing." He muttered to himself. If this stag had been attacked, the killer hadn't used magic. He'd have to have the blacksmith checked for poisons. Something he couldn't do here and now.

"If that was the case though, I would suspect I'd find some sort of vomit or something around here." There was none, though. This was either some very high grade, fast acting stuff, or poison hadn't caused this death.

"I suppose there's still the possibility of a heart attack, but the body is in a strange position for that." He muttered to himself. Usually when that happened, they clutched their chests instinctively and rolled over in pain. This man had apparently just lied down and... died. After seeing something horrible, something that was evident on his face.

"Well, I hate to say this" he muttered to himself. "But I'm stumped."

"What's there to be stumped about?!" A familiar voice boomed from behind him. Vestri rose and turned to meet the source of this new voice, already knowing who it was.

"Brother." Vestri greeted his larger sibling with a deadpan tone.

"You always were so stupid!" His brother laughed. "I mean it's obvious what caused his death. And I didn't even have to check the body!"

It was now that Vestri noticed that Ivangir was holding something. A mare with a yellow coat and a orange mane, the latter of which Ivangir was holding onto with his oversized hand. The mare of course was struggling as best as she could to get away from him, batting at his arms repeatedly with her fists in an instinctive attempt to injure him enough to let her down. Ivangir responded by holding her up, causing her to yell loudly in pain as her feet were lifted off the floor.

"This right here was the blacksmith's cunt!" He bellowed. "She was here when he died. So, she did it. The logic is ir- irafu-. Not arguable!" He stuttered on the last part.

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" She screamed, kicking and wriggling frantically while she continued to batter her wrists futilely against her captor's muscular arms. "LET ME GO, YOU MONSTER!"

"I hate to rain on your accomplishment, dear brother." Vestri responded to Ivangir's triumphant boast with a dry and annoyed sarcasm. "But I doubt the cunt had anything to do with this."

Ivangir's eyes narrowed. "Oh yyyeah?" He groaned proudly. "How do you think that? Especially since the ev...i..dence is right here?"

"Because there isn't any." Vestri responded matter of factly. "In fact, I can't find a cause of death on this stag anywhere. He wasn't stabbed, or choked. I can't rule out poison completely I'll admit, but there's no vomit or anything that would point to it. Besides, cunts aren't that smart to come up with something like that anyway. Oh, and there's no magic traces, so we can rule out spells."

"Of course there's no magic, idiot. She's one of those dirt mares!" Ivangir shot back.

"I've noticed." Vestri responded dryly.

"So that means I'm right! Ha ha, sorry brother but you lose again."

Vestri sighed at the stupidity present before him.

"Okay, brother." he spat. "If you're so smart, tell me how she did it."

"...What?" Ivangir gave him a questioning look.

"You heard me." Vestri responded. "How did he die?"

"This mare did it!" Ivangir responded, once again holding the mare out in front of him. "Haven't you been listening?"

"Clearly." Vestri responded dryly. "But the question I'm asking is how did she do it? She didn't stab him or slice him open. I doubt she used a poison potent enough to kill him this quickly without him or anyone else noticing. And like you said, no magic either. So how did she do it?"

"I... Well... Ummm..." Ivangir stumbled.

"Besides, wasn't that mare tied to the bed when you found her? She was a few minutes ago when I got here. I doubt a cunt like that could think to untie herself, murder him, then tie herself back to the bed." Vestri smiled, thinking that maybe he was starting to get through to that thick-brained brother of his. He decided to press the advantage now that he had Ivangir stumbling for words.

"Besides, we still haven't ruled out natural causes or the like just yet-"

"This mare did it!" Ivangir bellowed, interrupting him. "And no amount of your funny thinkin' talk is gonna change that!" He threw the mare, who by now had lost any energy in struggling, onto his shoulder. "Don't you worry brother, I'll get a confession out of this bitch one way or the other. And when I'll do, I'll show you why I'm the best brother among us once again!" He laughed as he stormed out of the room with his prize.

Vestri sighed. "Yeah, you go do that." He muttered. He knew his brother too well, and he knew that at this point his brother really didn't care if she did it or not. He just wanted an excuse to fuck a cunt and make her scream. The fact that he could 'show up' his brother was just a bonus at this point. Or he could try, at least. It's not like the king was stupid enough to actually believe him. Still, Ivangir would probably get his way anyway, and the mare would be blamed, just to keep the rest of the stags placated.
Still, it bothered Vestri that the real killer could be out there somewhere, waiting to strike again, though that assumed there even was one to begin with. The councilstag began to think that perhaps he had been over thinking this whole thing. Perhaps it was just the long, rough trip and the stress that came from it that brought the old blacksmith to death's door. Too much, too soon.

The stag decided that he was not going to accomplish anything more here either way. He gave one last look around the room before he too left, making sure to pick up his pet before going on his way.

The collars could wait. He had other things to do today, anyway.

Ponies. Ponies everywhere. Some sleeping. Some standing around sullenly. Some, mostly mares, crying while their loved ones did the best to comfort them in this dark time. This was the state of the inside of what the caribou were dubbing "warehouse two".

A few of them were talking in the corner with one of the mares that had been recently thrown in. As much as they hated to press the mares for information after all they went through in the last day or so, they were the only source of information on the world outside this stuffy warehouse that they had. Most were reduced to recalling what the caribou had done to their bodies. One group in particular was coddling a nude, crying mare whose body showed fresh bruises and was still matted with cum.

Suddenly, the door rumbled, causing all of the ponies eyes to be shifted towards the door. All eyes watched as a mare was thrown in amongst them, hitting the floor with a loud thud. The mare look behind her as the door was closed with a loud thud, a clicking sound coming from outside followed barely a second later.

The captives watched as the newcomer rose began to sit upright, her eyes returning their gazes with her own fearful one. It didn't take long for any of them to recognize the newcomer. Nonetheless, one felt the need to shout the obvious.

"Sunrise is here!"

A nude mare, which one could guess was her mother, ran to Sunny and hugged her. The two began talking to themselves, as the others simply drifted back to their business, ignoring the two of them almost entirely. Despite the sheer amount of animosity the townsponies had for Sunrise Splendor at this moment in time, almost none of them cared enough to act upon it - except for when her mother brought up something a few of the others felt they really should have, earning a concerned grumble from one of the stallions for revealing their escape plot to a 'traitor'.

Even so, most in the room continued to ignore Sunrise and her mother, that is until the two of them began to get into a heated arguement. Something that was soon joined by one of the mares, who accused her of expecting them to do nothing after she had told them almost exactly that.

"They're on edge as it is!" Sunrise whined. "Especially with the killing that happened today! If we all just calm down and-"

"Killing? What killing?!" A random stallion suddenly interrupted.

Now everyone's eyes were on Sunny once more, who was trying desperately to look for a place to retreat too. It was obvious she had mentioned something she really shouldn’t have.

"What killing, Sunny?" Her mother asked very calmly.

"Yeah, out with it. What killing?" The mare who had instigated this fight shouted.

"It..." Sunny paused, biting her lip as she struggled to find a way to spin this in a way that would not get everyone's hopes up. "It's nothing. It's just... Before I was thrown in here, Vestri went to a blacksmith. Something about getting collars for me or something. But..." Sunny once again paused as she thought. "But the blacksmith was dead."

Silence filled the room as everyone listened intently.

"So they're NOT invincible!" One pony said.

"Hey, HEY!" Sunny shouted angrily, trying to backpedal her way out of the mess she'd just created. "I didn't say anything like that! Besides, it might not even have been a killing. From what I heard, it sounds like natural causes anyway. I mean... I didn't hear much, just that there wasn't any sort of stab wounds or cuts or spells or anything like that."

"... Just like the other one." A mare, who up until now had remained quiet, suddenly muttered.

All attention focused on her now, away from Sunny.

"Other ...one?" Sunny responded shakily.

"Yes. I was... with one of them. He was... having his way... with me." She sniffled. " When... when one of the caribou came in and said something about a death on the edge of town. At..." She sniffed again. "At first they thought it was... wild animals. But then the other one said it wasn't. No bite marks, no blood, no nothing."

"Did you see it?" The stallion close to her spoke softly.

"No." She responded softly. "They threw me in here right before they left to see it themselves. He said that... that... he'd continue after they were done." She burst into tears, throwing herself into the nearest stallion's chest. "Please! I don't wanna go back. Please don't let them take me again!" The stallion wrapped his arms around her, gently rubbing her shoulders and back as she matted his fur with her tears.

"So it wasn't the blacksmith's mare after all." Sunny said to herself, almost immediately biting her lip when she realized that she'd once again thought a little too audibly for her own good.

"What mare?" Another stallion in the crowd responded slowly, his voice carrying with a tone of suspicion and accusation.

Sunrise thought a bit, once again trying to spin this in her mind. Finding none, she gave a defeated sigh. It looked like there was no avoiding this no matter how she would try.

"Ivangir dragged out some mare. Accused her of 'killing' the blacksmith. He said it was going to make her confess some way."

"So even you could figure out that she wasn't behind it, yet you said nothing?!" The same stallion as before shot accusingly.

"Yeah! Way to come to our defense, Sunrise Traitor!" The mare next to him shouted.

"Hey screw you!" Sunrise shouted back bitterly, having finally lost any illusion of restraint or self control, causing her mother to reel away from her own daughter in shock. "What was I supposed to do, talk back to Ivangir and end up in an even worse situation? Besides, I don't recall any of you coming to my aid when they were parading me throughout the streets just before the attack, assholes!"

Within seconds, the entire warehouse was embroiled in a bitter argument from all sides throwing verbal insults and petty arguments back and forth, the shouts and yells bouncing off the walls, the frantic gestures and fist shaking coming just short of physical blows.

What none of them noticed however, was a pair of icy blue eyes opening in a darkened corner of the warehouse, right by the 'secret' door that had been mentioned before this discussion had turned sour. The eye's owner was obscured by the darkness as it watched the scene unfold briefly, giving but a sigh of annoyance before the orbs once again disappeared into the darkness.

Author's Note

Sorry this took so long to release, but unforseen complications caused me to hold this chapter back.

Chapter 2

(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.

Chapter 4

The sun had disappeared from the sky. A fact that was quite obvious given the lights that had been turned on in the mayor's office, so that its two sole occupants would not be consigned to sitting in the darkness.

"What are we going to do, Dainn?" The thinner, smaller stag asked. He was standing, not sitting, at the table. He was leaning on the table, holding himself up with his hands as he looked at the larger stag sitting in his chair.

"For the last time, Anvari, I don't know." Dainn responded. He was reclining back in his chair, a look pure annoyance on his face. "I didn't expect any of this to happen."

"You expected to just come in, take the town, and no problems?" Anvari asked sarcastically.

Dainn nodded. "Well, yes. I mean okay, I expected there might be a bump here or there. But not this."

"It's obvious that their true target was the council all along. And you." Anvari commented.

"Tell me something we haven't already figured out." Dainn sighed with frustration.

Anvari remained silent. Dainn raised an eyebrow at him as he leaned back. He idly put his hands together in front of his chest, lazily pushing his fingers against one another again and again.

"...Still," Dainn finally broke the silence. "Something does bother me about all of this."

"Which is?" Anvari questioned.

"If our malefactor's true target was the council all along, why go through all of this trouble? Thinning the ranks, destroying supplies. Seems a like an awful lot of damage just to take out a few people."

Anvari was about to respond when suddenly the door flew open. A stag stormed into the room, followed by a mare that meekly crawled behind him.

"Ah, Vestri." Dainn greeted dryly. "Good to see you. Tell me, how is your brother coming? Is he finally ready to apologise for his behavior?" Dainn questioned.

"My brother..." Vestri responded angrily. "My beloved brother Brother... is dead!" He huffed.

"What? Dead?" Dainn asked. "I didn't think my kick was that powerful." He responded sarcastically.

He angrily pointed a finger at Dainn."You... You left him to die in that alley! You let the Ghost kill him!"

Anvari looked at Dainn, questioningly. Dainn paid him no mind, continuing only to stare at vestri with a vacant expression.

"First of all," the large stag responded cooly, "...please don't try to tug on my heartstrings with this 'beloved brother' act of yours. You never loved him at all, and everyone here knows that. In fact I'm surprised you're not here to thank me for his death."

"How dare you!" Vestri yelled in response.

"Besides, aren't you the commander of the army? If you did care for your brother as much as you seem to want to let on despite everyone knowing the contrary, I would think you would have the sense to post a few guards near him while he recovered from that blow I gave him."

"I didn't think of it at the time!" Vestri whined.

"Yes, that's your real problem, isn't it? You don't think. None of you do. Maybe if you did, we wouldn't be in this mess to begin with." Dainn shot back. "Like right now, you barge in here, directly accuse me of killing your brother, crying crocodile tears for them. All while forgetting one simple fact:"

"And what fact might that be?" Vestri growled.

"That I am still your king. And as such, you must still respect me as your superior."

"Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts!" Vestri shot back. "Sunny, come." He yelled, yanking her leash harshly as he disappeared through the door as suddenly as he had arrived.

Dainn rolled his eyes as they left. Anvari pushed himself off of the table, standing up straight. "I think I'll let myself out." He said nervously as he made his way to the door.

"Yeah, you do that." Dainn responded without a hint of emotion in his voice, his eyes not even watching his guest as he left. When he was alone in the room, the king let out a long sigh.
"Why did Svarndagr ever stick me with those two?" The King groaned aloud.

Elsewhere on the edge of town, four stags stood watch over the entrance of a house.

"Is it just me, or is this night lasting a lot longer than it really should?" One of them suddenly asked. "I mean, it feels like we've been standing out here for a good several hours already."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Another one piped in. "With all this shit happening, I've been on edge all night. I keep askin' myself what kind of short straw I picked to be standing guard duty to some old fart instead of interrogatin' some hot piece of pussy?"

"Hey, this 'old fart' happens to be Sindri, remember?" The third one spoke suddenly. "The king's mentor and all that? Councilman? This is high priority stuff we're doin'. Don't you go forgetting it."

"Yeah yeah. Whatever." The stag who had started this conversation groaned. "So uh, who do you think is behind this?" He asked, hoping to keep this small talk going in order to pass the time. "I mean, all this crap we're going through now?"

"Honestly," The one closest to him responded, "up until today I thought it was that Gunne guy. You know what they say about stags that share a cunt with their sister?" Everyone nodded. "Though now that he's gone, I really don't know."

"Honestly, I wouldn't put it past Dainn himself at this point." Another one piped up. Everyone stared at him. "What? It's just a rumor." He responded weakly. "Apparently Dainn was always sick of all us schmucks are actin', and wanted to do some purging shit on us or something."

"Shut up, you're an idiot." Another one said, smacking the stag upside the head. "Dainn isn't a traitor. I mean, he brought us here and all to get away from the big boom. S'not his fault everything went to shit."

"Okay then, smartass." The other stag said, still rubbing the back of his head where his fellow had hit him. "Who do you think is behind it?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He shrugged arrogantly. "It's obviously Vestri. Or someone working for'm. I mean, think about it: With Ivangir and Dainn out of the way, he'd be king, right? And with none of the other council members to oppose it, he'd have free reign of everything."

"You guys are so pathetic." The third one laughed, earning glares from the other two. "I honestly can't believe anyone is still buying this 'traitor' nonsense."

"Well what else could it be?" The first stag responded. "I mean it's not like anyone else could know where to hit us the hardest, and when?"

"Oh yes. Some ships in the harbor. People unloading stuff from them. Definitely not a priority target." The guard responded sarcastically. "Seriously, it might as well have had a big flag over top of them that said 'This is important! Attack this!'"

"Maybe, but you still didn't answer the question. If it's not traitors, who then?" The other stag responded.

"It's probably some sort of special forces unit or agent the rulers of this land sent out when we hit the town. Hell, for all I know, they could be doing it themselves."

"That's ridiculous!" The other stag shouted in response.

"Oh, is it really?" He responded harshly.

"Yes, it is!" The second one responded. "If it was assault soldiers or something, we have runes for that. They would have picked them up?"

"Are you sure about that? How do you know they even work? What if the ponies have some way to detect it or go around it? Hell, they could have come in the same way we did: through the water. In fact, for all we know they could be sitting outside, casting spells in here. Or maybe they have sleeper agents all over the place just for this sort of thing. Prove me wrong. Oh wait, you can't."

The other two stags tried to come up with a response, their mouths occasionally opening, but failing to form a word. Their eyes shifted towards their last remaining fellow. A smaller stag who was shaking nervously in the corner, constantly scanning the area around him. He seemed to be a very young one, most likely he'd just reached adulthood.

"Hey, you!" One of them said, startling the small stag. "You've been rather quiet all night. What do you think about all this?"

The stag looked at all three of them and gulped.

"I don't even care what's causing it." He said shakily. "I'm just sitting here thinking 'why the hell haven't I left already?' Like the other bucks who left yesterday."

"Traitor!" One of them yelled.

"What, you want the ponies to enslave you?" the other one shouted.

"Yeah, they'll fuck you in the ass! With a twelve-inch dildo, at the very least!"

"I don't care if it's twenty-one inches, I'd rather take it in the ass than be burned to a crisp. Or stabbed through the gut. Or whatever this Ghost does to people!" He yelled in his own defense. "At least there'd be food and safety. Here, we got some, some... Thing hunting us, and killing everything that gets in its way! Face it, Dainn and Vestri are idiots who have no plans to get us out of this shit. I don't care what this "Celestia" does, anything's better than being sitting ducks guarding some stupid old fart!"

A crash from inside the house broke the argument before any of them could respond.

"I'm going in." The first one, said, rushing up the steps.

"No, wait!" The second one replied, but it was too late. The first one was already in, and the rest of the group was already following close behind.

"It sounded it came from-" One of them said, stopping when his foot hit something. He looked down, and immediately wished he hadn't.

"What, what is it-" One of his fellows said, noticing his compatriot looking at a certain spot. They all stopped when they all saw what he saw.

"Well, fuck."

There, lying on the floor, was the body of an old stag. Dead. No signs of bruises save for a single mark on his throat. No signs of struggle. No blood. No cuts.

"We're too late." One of them said sadly.

"How the hell did they even get in anyway? We had the door guarded-"

"There!" One of the stags pointed towards an open window, in the back, near the kitchen. They all ran towards it, hoping to catch some glimpse of the perpetrator. Alas, it was for naught. Whoever had taken the old stag's life was long gone by now.

"Dainn is gonna be pissed." The biggest in the group said. "But then again, if this keeps up he might not even last the night-"

He looked at the stag whom he had called a traitor moments earlier.

"-You know what? I think you're onto something, little guy. I'm getting the hell out of this shithole. Who's with me?"

They all nodded. In mere seconds, the room was vacant, save for the corpse of Dainn's mentor.

Another house, another caribou standing guard. This guard had the distinct fortune of actually being allowed inside it, rather than just guarding the door.

The guard himself didn't see it as a fortune though. He cursed inwardly for having gotten this assignment as the noises of female grunts and groans coming from the basement filled his ears. He rolled his eyes as he pictured the source of these sounds in his mind: Anvari having his merry way with his 'breeding stock': the meekest, most submissive of cows the caribou had to offer - which, considering their race, was saying a lot. Anvari had even described it once while he was around on guard duty. What had he said? He 'paid attention to the body' in order to 'produce the strongest offspring' while paying little attention to the mind contained within, which Anvari, just like the other council members, considered only an afterthought in case of females anyway. It was a breeding philosophy so stupid that he somehow assumed Anvari himself was already a result of it - an assumption that was less than implausible.

The guard slumped his back against the wall, slowly sliding down it onto the floor. After all, why stand around when sitting was perfectly fine? If he was going to be miserable, he might as well be miserable in a somewhat comfortable position.

The stag closed his eyes, sighing to himself in frustration. It was going to be a loooooong night.

He slowly opened them, only to find himself staring directly into a sight that filled his mind with panic. His eyes flew open, his pupils narrowing into saucers as his gaze was returned by a pair of unfamiliar, glowing, icy blue eyes belonging to a white-robed figure that was not even inches away from his person.

It didn't take a genius to guess who, or what exactly was in front of him.

The stag was frozen with fear as he watched the creature in front of him reach out a finger to his throat. A barely audible stream of "nos" and "pleases" spilled from his lips as he stared down at the hand in front of him, the fingertip not even an inch away from his soft neck flesh.

He watched, paralyzed in terror, as the hand shook in front of him. It tried to thrust forward, repeatedly, into his throat. Yet, it could not. It was as if the finger was being held back by an unseen force. The guard's eyes wandered back to the assassin's own face, where an emotionless frown had turned into a frustrated scowl, which itself was now forming into an angry grimace.

For reasons that neither could fathom, the creature in front of the stag was powerless to act against him. Any other stag might have taken advantage of this strange coincidence, might have picked up a blade, reached out and choked it, something. This stag however, found himself unable to move, unable to anything about his would-be killer in front of them - despite his conscious mind telling him to do otherwise

The two were at an impasse, neither side unable to bring harm to one another, for reasons neither could understand. An eerie silence flooded the stag’s ears, drowning out the moans and groans below. Even his own breath and heartbeats were drowned out. This was despite the fact that his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would leap out of his chest at any moment. Their eyes remained locked on one another, neither side unable to look away, unable to process anything beyond each other's presence.

"Hey, Eadgil!" A loud voice suddenly rang in from below, breaking the silence. Both the assassin and the guard turned their heads towards the stairs. "Fetch my cane. I forgot it upstairs."

Eadgil turned his head back to the assassin one last time, who likewise did the same.

"Go ahead and kill him." Eadgil sighed. "I won't stop you."

The assassin's gaze remained fixated on his own. His hand however, lowered. Slowly, the robed creature backed away a couple of paces.

"Go..." It said slowly, without any hint of emotion. "...And live."

Eadgil gave a nod of acknowledgement. Quickly getting to his feet as quickly as he could, almost stumbling over himself as he ran out of the house.

"Eadgil, why is my cane not in my hand?" Anvari shouted angrily from below. "Ugh nevermind I'll get it myself. And when I do, I'll test it out on YOUR useless hide. Useless guards."

The sounds of heavy, angry footsteps hitting the wooden stairs filled the house as Anvari ascended. The assassin turned its attention to the top of the stairway, its intention more than clear for the creature that unknowingly rose to his doom.

Ponies. Ponies everywhere. Some sleeping. Some standing around sullenly. Not much had changed in so-called "warehouse 2" in the day since their failed escape. There were less crying females now, only because the caribou had been too busy in the last few hours to use them.

A large group of stallions and mares were huddled in a corner, away from the "secret" door, having a heated conversation.

"I say we try it again." A stallion with blue fur and a dark blue main proposed.

"Escape again?!" A stallion with a yellow mane and a red coat replied sarcastically. "Yeah, because that went so well last time."

"And besides, they have guards outside the other door now." Another one, with yellow fur and a green mane responded.

"So what?" The blue stallion shouted back in response. "It's just... What? Two, three, maybe four guards? Besides, they're weakened now, haven't you heard? The Ghost has been kicking their asses left and right-"

"The Ghost?" A mare with a yellow mane and a green coat asked curiously.

"Yeah yeah, the Ghost of Lindinsbarne. Or at least that's what everyone's callin'm." The blue stallion responded. "There's something out there, causing the caribou a whole lot of trouble. No one knows what it is. First they burned their ships, then set those burning beasts loose all over the place. Lot of these caribou fuckers got killed. And now they're all running scared. Haven't you guys been listening to anything lately?!"

He paused before continuing.

"Is it the same one that killed the blacksmith? And the guards?" A mare asked cautiously.

"Most likely." The stallion nodded. "And apparently a lot of important people belonging to the caribou too. Look, I don't know who or what this thing is, but I know this: the caribou are weaker now than they were a few days before. They're scared. Stretched thin. Last time might have been a fluke, but this time, I'm sure this time we'll-"

Suddenly, a loud noise from outside the front door interrupted their conversation and plans. Everyone's eyes turned towards it suddenly.

"Oh no." One of the mares suddenly cried.

"They're coming back." Said another stallion. "Probably to take another mare."

"Who're they gonna take this time?" A mare said worriedly. "Please don't let it be me, please don't-"

"It's not going to be anyone." A stallion huffed, standing in front of her.

"What are you doing?" The mare asked scaredly, grabbing his leg.

"I'm sick of all this. I'm sick of watching my wife, my daughter, my friends getting hauled off by these monsters to be raped, beaten, made to serve every sick and twisted whim these bastards have, and then dumped back in here when they're done having their way. I'm stick of standing here, doing nothing at all. I'm fighting this, and ain't no one gonna stop me!"

"But what if they-" The mare started.

"-I don't care. I'm mad as hell, and I'm not gonna take this anymore!"

"Yeah, me too!" Another stallion shouted in agreement as he stomped over to them. They were soon joined by more and more, mares and stallions alike, as angry shouts of agreement filled the wooden structure.

Another noise by the door broke the cheers. Muffled talking could be heard outside, though no one could, let alone cared to make out what was being said.

"Okay everyone, once they open the door, we'll charge them. They can't fight all of us." the blue stallion ordered.

"And then?" A green coated stallion asked.

"We'll figure that out once we're outside." The blue stallion responded. "But first, get ready, here they come. Everyone get ready to ambush these fuckers when the door opens."

The doors let out a large creak as they slowly open.

"That's it!" The stallion screamed. "CHAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGEEE!!"

The warehouse erupted into a yell as all the ponies stampeded their way towards the door, ready to rip the stags on the other side limb from limb. Ready to extract their revenge in a fit of rage, not just on the stag unlucky enough to be on the other side, but on any that dared get in their way.

"WAIT, STOP!"

Their charge suddenly came to a halt as they clumsily tripped over one another, a lot of them unceremoniously tripping over each other. The villagers eyes went wide, not from fear, but from joy as they saw what was standing in the doorway.

Not stags, as they expected, but stallions. Stallions dressed in shining, royal armor regalia. One turned his head to the other.

"Inform Captain Armor that we've secured the hostages."

The sounds of battle filled the air outside. Clangs of metal meeting metal, of war cries and screams of pain and agony, of both pony and stag alike, were muffled only partially by the walls of Sunny's house. Her bedroom, to be specific. By some miracle, her house had escaped the rampaging warbeasts’ fires. This house currently played host to two occupants: Vestri, and his pet. The woman who, ironically, had owned this house before the calamities started.

Sunny found herself being roughly shoved into the closet by her master, her protests going unheard as the closet door was roughly closed behind her.

"Stay in there. That's an order." Vestri barked from the other side. "And don't come out until I come back. If you're lucky enough that I come back."

Sunny remained quiet, the councilstag taking this silence as acknowledgement to his command. He gave not even a grunt before he left, the mare could hear him running down the stairs and out the door.

She wept sadly. Everything had gone so well. She couldn't explain it, but... Vestri had made her so happy. He had been a little rough around the edges, sure, but all the times he'd made love to her, touched her. Put her in her place. Not to mention, Vestri was a councilstag. A position of great power, and she'd been his pet.

And then that damn... Ghost, came and ruined everything. Yes, she'd heard the other mares talk about it, from what little interaction she had with the others. She'd heard the misguided hopes about this "Ghost of Lindinsbarne" coming to save them all. She'd seen how they'd reacted, made things harder for the caribou, made things harder for each themselves. Made things harder for her.

A shadow creeping into the closet made her pop out of her pity party. Sunny tried to get a better look at it through the blinds, but stumbled back against the wall as she saw it approach.

Sunny tried to control her breathing, trying to give it the impression that nothing was there. That plan was ruined when it spoke four words, directly to her, through the door:

"The Vestri one. Where?"

It didn't take long for her to realize who this was. Or what, it was: The Ghost. The assassin that had been terrorizing the Caribou almost from the moment they landed here. The being that had caused them, and her, so much trouble.

She was afraid. Was it here for her? She knew it asked for Vestri, but since she was Vestri's pet - She had to tell the intruder something. But what? She debated telling him a lie, hoping to lead him away from Vestri's location, or simply telling him the truth. If she did the former, Vestri might be proud of her. But what if the creature could see through the lie? Would she be its next victim?

The sound of the closet door creaking quickly made up her mind.

"Vestri... He went off to find King Dainn at the mayor's office. If you hurry, you might catch him!"

Sunny waited, shivering, afraid of what the assassin might do if he, or she, didn't believe her. Not helped by the fact that it wasn't saying anything in response. On the other hand, it was making no further attempt to open the door.

The mare breathed a deep sigh of relief when small amounts of light started to creep back into the closet through the wooden blinds, something which could only have meant that the assassin was gone.

She just hoped that Vestri could forgive her for this, if he survived. If he didn't... Sunny didn't have any idea what she was going to do.

Dainn waited in 'his' office, standing forlornly in the hallway. his body geared and prepared in his run-covered kingly armor. His warhammer was at his back, ready to go in a moments notice.

Suddenly the door burst open. Dainn reached a hand for his hammer, ready to do battle with whoever was foolish enough to enter. The king set his hand down when he saw who had come.

"Vestri. You're still alive. That is good to know." The king remarked sarcastically. "I'm surprised you haven't ran."

Vestri's face bore a deranged, irrefutably malicious grin.

"Well, that was my first thought, but then I had a much better idea." Vestri snarled as he drew a sword he had been carrying.

"Treason now, Vestri?" Dainn remarked, still not drawing his own weapon.

"How ever did you guess?" Vestri responded with spiteful sarcasm. "Yes, I plan on deposing you, my Lord."

"And you believe the council will let you get away with this?" Dainn responded dryly as he raised an eyebrow.

"Council?" Vestri laughed. "What council?! Maybe you haven't noticed, my soon to be late King, but the other councillors are all dead!"

Said King remained silent.

"Oh yes, while you were sitting here twiddling your thumbs, the so-called 'Ghost of Lindinsbarne' has been very busy. Anvari, Sindri, that wood guy who's name I keep forgetting, they're all gone. All dead. You and I are the only ones left. And I intend to fix that soon enough." Vestri let out a insane laugh. "Besides, even if that wasn't the case, they'd be in no position to object anyway. Have you looked outside? The town is under attack."

"I've noticed." Dainn replied dryly.

"Yes, Celestia's royal pets. They showed up just a couple of minutes ago. Quite fortunate that I've beaten them here, really. Oh, your men are doing their best to fight them. Well, some of them anyway. Most of them are either surrendering or running off."

"Like you?" Dainn asked. "I don't exactly see you helping your fellow stags."

"Like me? That's funny, coming from you first of all, Mr. 'I'll stand here and wait for Celestia to show up'. And second of all, 'my fellow stags'?! Ha! Face it Dainn, stagkind is finished. We had a good run of it, but it's over now. It's every stag for himself now. And I intend to come out on top."

"So I'm correct to assume that you plan on killing me just to save your own useless hide?"

"Exactly!" Vestri yelled triumphantly, "When the cunt princesses and their minions get here, you'll be dead. By my hand. For you see, I am the Ghost of Lindinsbarne! The saboteur that's been undermining us from the start!"

"You? The assassin?" Dainn scoffed. "I find that prospect quite impossible. After all, how did you know about Etadys's lichdom, or how to combat it?

"Etady's a Lich?!" Vestri gasped. "I... I always knew there was something off about the Master of Bones, but even I-" Vestri stopped himself, and shook his head. "Oh, you misunderstand. Of course I'm not actually the Ghost. That's ridiculous, even you know that. But they..." The stag pointed his sword towards one of the windows, while tilting his head in the same direction. "They don't know that, now do they?"

Vestri laughed again as he continued.

"I'm going to tell them a little tale." Vestri waved his free hand around as he spoke. "Tell them I've been secretly plotting against you from the very beginning. About how I had big plans to reform the caribou into a nicer, more female-obedient race. But I failed." He said with an obviously fake sadness in his voice. "And so, seeing how they, and you, wouldn't change your ways, I set about doing the only thing I could do: destroy them from the inside, betraying my... 'kin'... in the worst way possible. All so that they wouldn't be in any position to fight the 'dear, sweet, true princesses of the world' when they came to take back the city. It'll make a great story, no? Perhaps I'll even make a bit of money selling it as one of those trashy books you love so much."

Vestri gave a little grunt at that last part.

"Not that I'll need it, mind you. With your death, I'll be hailed as a hero to these ponies." He put his hand to his chest. "I'll live as a noble, the one good stag. Safe from consequences. Safe from this assassin. A hero to these gullible little ponies. I'll live like, dare I say, a King?" He put his hand down. "And you... You'll just be the dead boogeyman. The villain slayed by the defector from decadence. The monster that enslaved the innocent widdle ponies and tried to conquer all of Equestria, only to fail in the end by his own man. The perfect plan, is it not?"

Vestri suddenly felt his left leg buckle beneath him, forcing him to one leg. Before he could even register what was going on, the other followed suit. He hit the floor face first, pain traveling up his snout as it met the wood below. The stag flushed it out of his mind, instinctively rolling onto his back.

Just in time to see a finger strike out at his throat, pressing hard against it. It withdrew back to its source just as quickly as it had lashed out against him.

"No." The finger's owner responded to Vestri's proposition in an emotionless tone.

The would-be traitor felt his throat tighten, seemingly of its own accord. Instinctively, he grabbed his neck with his free hand as his mouth hung wide open, trying desperately to get some much needed air into his lungs. His body wouldn't let him.

Desperate, he lashed out with his other hand, to the figure kneeling over him. It was one step ahead though, and merely grabbed it in response. Vestri tried to wriggle his hand free, tried to move his legs, anything. But it was all for not. He grew weaker and weaker as his body was starved for precious oxygen. The stag's vision began to blur, and then to darken, his frantic body movements grew weaker and weaker as the life drained from Vestri's eyes. In mere moments, the king's lieutenant, and his treasonous plots and plans, were no more.

The King, meanwhile stood and stared at the scene in complete disbelief, finding himself unable to lift a hand or hoof to either help his would-be killer, nor to combat the assassin, or even think of doing such a thing in the first place.

He watched as the creature, barely over half his own height, rise from its kill. The king's stare was returned with its own. The king tightened his grip on own weapon, shifting his stance and readying himself, preparing to do battle with the cloaked creature in front of him.

Chapter 5

A large figure stood alone in the office. A mare that boasted a flowing mane of beautiful colors that sparkled as it ebbed and flowed gently in the calm of the wooden building, a coat of the purest white a pony could ever hope to see. She's sported a figure that any stallion would give any body part to claim as their own, even for a second, barely marred by the heavy, golden suit of armor she wore.

Princess Celestia’s purple eyes were locked on the only other 'company' in the room: the lifeless bodies of two stags that lay sprawled on the floor. One lied at her feet, on its back and staring lifelessly up at the ceiling. The other lie further away, dressed in heavy metal armor. This stag lay on its stomache, its face kissing the dirty floorboards that played host to its corpse.

In the princess's right hand was a sword made of pure light, its blade crackled and sparked with energy. The solar princess opened her hand, letting the hilt tumble along her opened palm and roll over her fingertips, the blade rushing to meet the floor below. The tip was a mere millimeter away from the wooden material below when the weapon suddenly vanished with a loud puff of smoke, the dark choking cloud dissipating in mere moments. Celestia showed no reaction to this as she continued to stare at the two fallen stags.

"Huh, I didn't think thou had it thee, sister mine." A meek voice interrupted from behind her. Celestia didn't turn to face it's owner as it stepped into the room beside her. "I never knew thee to kill thine opponents."

The newly-freed Princess of the Night, who had returned to her throne only the previous day, had not yet completely regained her former strength after her ordeal as Nightmare Moon as her smaller form clearly showed. Her fur was a lighter shade of blue rather than the dark blue she had been accustomed to all those years ago, and her mane had not yet resumed the starry, nightly visage that she once had.

"This is not my work, my sister." Celestia responded sorrowfully. "They were like this when I had arrived. A shame, I would have prefered to deal with this monster myself."

"Then, this too is the work of this 'mysterious assassin', then?" Luna inquired. "The so-called 'Ghost of Lindinsbarne', as thy ponies here are calling it?"

"It would appear so."

Luna remained silent.

"Of course, that leaves the burning question," Celestia started.

"The identity of this mysterious assassin." Luna finished. "Doth thou have any ideas?"

"I admit, at first I thought, I hoped it was a traitor from the inside. It made the most sense, and... well, perhaps I just wanted to think that not all of caribou are as vile as these two."

"If even half of the things the ones we captured confessed to are true, then I sincerely doubt that." Luna commented. Celestia didn't give a response, instead continuing with her own thoughts.

"However, something here leads me to believe that something else entirely is behind this. Tell me, Luna." Celestia pointed to the two bodies. "Do you notice something a bit... off, about them?"

Luna's eyes squinted as she examined the scene. She cupped the bottom of her muzzle with her finger, using it to scratch her chin thoughtfully before she shook her head and responded.

"Sorry, I do not notice anything.." She narrowed her eyes further.

"Exactly my point. Don't you think this is a little odd? No blood, no cuts, no wounds, no bruises. Nothing." Celestia remarks. "It's as if they just... died. Without explanation."

"Although now that I look, I cannot help but notice a few... marks on their throats and arms." Luna remarked, earning a nod from Celestia. "But they are not big enough to even be a bruise, let alone cause one's death."

"Yes, I see them too." Celestia sighed sadly. "I hope I am wrong about this, I sincerely do. But there is only one type of entity I know of that is capable of doing something like this. An entity that disables and kills its opponents through pressing certain points on the body, particularly the throat-"

"Surely thou does not mean-?!"

"I'm afraid so." Celestia responded.

"But, they do not ever leave their realm! Their brotherhood has not set foot in Equestria for thousands of years!" Luna protested.

"Very true, my sister. Though if it did indeed send one of its minions here, one thing is for sure: It was not here for our sake. If it is indeed one of them, they were not here to help ponykind."

"Thou must alert the guards!" Luna yelled. "We must search the town for-"

"It will do no good, Luna." Celestia shook her head. "If it was one of them, and if its mission was indeed to stop these caribou for reasons we cannot fathom, then it has most certainly left this town by this point. For all we know, they could be halfway to Zebrica by now."

Luna nodded slowly, looking over the corpses again.

"Gods help anyone or anything that is unfortunate enough to run across them."

~~

A Pink Pony with a curly, poofy mane that was a darker shade of pink than her coat and seemed to defy the force of gravity itself, bounced up a path winding up a hill. In her hand she held a basket containing many letters. Her expression was one of pure joy and bliss as she bounded up the pathway leading up to a small cottage.

Upon arriving at her destination, she gave the door a few knocks. The door opened, revealing its occupant to be a yellow pegasus with a long mane that curled over to one side and matched the pink party pony's own coat.

"Hiii Fluttershy!" The Pink mare practically yelled, happily.

"Oh, Um... hello Pinkie." The pegasus replied shyly, looking off to the side as she tried to hide her face behind her hair.

Pinkie dug into the basket she was holding, and pulled out a sealed card. "You're Invited to-"

"I can't come. Um, if that's okay with you." She replied softly.

Pinkie's cheerful demeanor disappeared, quickly being replaced with one of exaggerated sadness.

"Why nooo-hoot?" She pouted. "Don't you like my parties? I mean, I know you're shy and all but-"

"Its-It's not that." Fluttershy said sadly. "It's just that... ummm..."

"Yeess?" Pinkie pie asked with a high pitched, whiny tone.

"It's just that I'm um... busy." Fluttershy explained, stuttering as she did so. "Well, um, I was in the woods yesterday, gathering some, umm, treats for my animals. And then I saw this poor creature being attacked by a hydra. I... I got there just in time, but the poor thing is out cold and, um, I dare not leave him unattended before he wakes up."

"Oooh, a new pet!" Pinkie squeaked, her cheerful expression returning faster than it had vanished. "How exciting!"

"Well, he's a bit big to be a pet. I think. Though, I really have no idea what he is. I've never seen anything like him before."

"Can I see?!" Fluttershy yelled.

"That's not a good idea. He's sleeping."

"Ohh! I know, we should totally throw him a party when he gets up! New people always get a party, that's the Pinkie Policy!" She yelled, bouncing up and down as she clapped her hands.

"Ummm... That would be nice. I think." Fluttershy said as Pinkie bounced away, already on her way to deliver her remaining invitations to the next ponies on her list. Fluttershy closed the door, and retreated back into the house.

She slowly opened the door to her bedroom, where her new guest now lie in a deep sleep. She'd given the strange, bipedal creature her own bed, to make him as comfortable as possible. She didn't mind not having her bed in the slightest, as she was more than accustomed to sleeping on the couch if need be. A white robe he had been wearing lay on a nearby dresser. She hadn't told Pinkie this, but this was how she'd figured out where it was a boy or a girl. Her cheeks turned red as she remembered that, and did her best to purge her mind of such unclean thoughts.

The blanket Fluttershy had tucked the creature under obscured most of its features, save for its face. It appeared to be a strange mix between a bunny and a diamond dog. In fact, it looked somewhat like a bigger version of her little Angel. It had the nose and muzzle of the former, while its ears were definitely closer to the dogs'.

Perhaps the most distinct feature though was the strange marking or tattoo on its head: it looked like a silhouette of the creature's own head and upper chest, flanked by two tilted halos on either side that intersected around the lower part of its head. On the bust's 'chest', was what appeared to be an open eye.

It was a strange creature, but Fluttershy at least found him irresistibly cute.

"Oooh, I just wish I knew what you were." Fluttershy cooed, rubbing its forehead gently with her hand. "You just get your rest, little guy. I-"

The creature began to stir under her hand, causing Fluttershy's hand to recoil in shock, and her eyes to go wide. The creature's movements stopped, save for its slow breathing, and Fluttershy gave a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, its eyes flew open, revealing a pair of glowing, icy blue eyes. Eyes that frantically began to scan the room, before locking on with those of the hovering yellow pegasus.

Author's Note

Well, it took me two plus damn years, but I finally released this chapter ending. Hope it was worth the wait (though, I'm guessing it's probably not.) You see, I actually had this written out a long time ago, but never released it, as I was waiting for Shattered Order to reach a certain point, and then I would release this final chapter right after words. However, as that does not seem like it ever will happen, I decided "fuck it" and released it now. I should have done so years ago, but oh well. Better late than never, right?

For those who can guess (and still give enough of a damn to do so): Yes, the "ghost" is in fact 'Monolith', the same little Mimiga that ended up in Freeville looking for Eadgil in that story, under orders from an eldritch deity of the same name. This was to be implied through a number of hints. IE: the fact that he can't really harm Eadgil, the method that he uses to kill his victims, etc. At one point in Tarvoc's story, this would have been made very clear when Monolith talked to Fluttershy about it, and revealed his silver tanto to her. The idea here was that we kind of end on a book end, where Monolith in this timeline meets Fluttershy, and it's left open-ended as to what exactly happens to them. In fact, this whole story is actually an alt-universe to Shattered Order, in which the Monolith (entity) sees all of the possibilities that could come of the Caribou's invasion, and decides that in this timeline, it'll send its servant to strangle this invasion in its cradle.

Sorry to everyone that expected Tirek or Grogar or Discord or Angel Bunny (well, we aren't too far off in that last regard) or something else, but hey... them's the breaks.

Chapter 3

Vestri was barking orders to the beastmasters, yelling at them to get the warbeasts under control, while ordering the other men to try and block their advance. The men tried, with little success. One warbeast roared angrily at the tiny stag trying to block his path. It gave a deafening howl and ran the poor stag down where it stood, trampling him as it ran down the streets.

Another warbeast slammed into a nearby house, easily shattering the material it was made of. It screamed with fury, its breath torching the inside of the structure. Anything and everything burnable soon caught fire. A squad of stags tried to throw ropes around its neck and horns. One actually succeeded. His efforts were rewarded in full when the beast turned around quickly spun itself around, throwing the stag into the air. The unlucky stag crashed into a wall on the other side of the street, the material not being strong enough to block his entry. The monster’s eyes soon fixated on the other stags as they watched their brethren fly. With an enraged howl that lit up the sky with flames. This got the other stag’s attention, just in time to see the insane creature run right for them at full speed.

“Sir!” One of the beastmasters shouted back to Vestri. “We can’t get them under control! The-they seem to have gone completely insane!

The warbeast he was trying to calm turned his attention towards him, roaring as it charged. The beastkeeper tried to leap out of the way, but was not quick enough. Instead of dodging, the hapless stag was flung into the air, right overtop of Vestri, who instinctively ducked just in time. He saw the warbeast coming straight for him, and did the same. Thankfully for him, he had more time than the beastmaster had, and was able to get out of its way as it ran past.

“Sunny, stay down!” He barked to his pet. Vestri looked to his left, seeing a warbeast crash into yet another building. A trio of Caribou tried to approach it, only for the warbeast to turn and incinerate all of them with a howl. Screams emanated from the three as their fur and flesh burned. A few, pain-filled moments later, they were gone from the world, and the Warbeast they had failed to capture was likewise gone, off to satiate its unquenchable rage elsewhere.

“Soldier!” Vestri shouted to a nearby soldier at his side. A soldier looked at him, responding with a simple “Sir!”.

“Find where the hell Lord Hrathr went off to. The rest of you, keep them distracted until Hrathr arrives.”

The caribou nodded, and ran off. Two of them in a hopeless struggle to distract one of the warbeasts nearby, the other to find the Master of Beasts himself.

Contrary to Vestri’s thoughts however, the Master of Beasts was not sitting idle. Like the rest of the town, he was attempting to get a rampaging beast under control. He was in an alleyway, looking on as a warbeast burned a nearby building. Whose it was or what it contained, the Master of Beasts had little care of at the moment. Only the creature destroying it was on his mind. He threw a rope, which landed around one of the beasts horns. The beat screamed with rage at his insolence, burning most of the rope, and would have burned Hrathr as well had he not quickly stepped to the side. The stag caught his breath, the heat having been sucked right out of him by the passing flames.

A big mistake, on his part. The warbeast looked at him with a deranged fire in its eyes, ready to trample the stag down where he stood. Unlike the others though, Hrathr had a trick up his sleeve. His horn began to glow, and his hands began to move, carving out runes in the air.

“Calm thyself, great warbeast. Tell me of your pains-” The beastmaster began. “-Sooth your thoughts, become one with my mind-”

Hrathr’s knowledge of crafting careful, soothing calming spells on beasts was rewarded with a rough slam into his right side as the warbeast ran past. He was thrown against a building, bouncing off of it as his body then hit the broken sidewalk face first with a sickening thud.

Immense pain coursed through Hrathr’s body. His head was spinning. He could taste the metally taste of blood inside of his mouth. He could move his legs, but not very well. He tried to push himself off the ground by his hands, but only succeeded in slamming back down onto the pavement weakly as pain shot through his arms. He rolled over on his side. His vision was blurred. He could see a pair of brown blurry figures fightings another, lighter brown bigger blurry figure.

As he lay there, another blurry figure began to fill his view.

“Help!” He called out to him. The figure continued to approach. “The-The beasts!” He coughed. “I can’t... Get through to them.” He said, trying once more to hold himself up by his hand. “Tell... Vestri... That their minds... Are tampered with... Somehow... I can’t... Get through-”

“Correct.”

An emotionless voice rang into his ears. His body was roughly shoved to the ground, turned onto his back. His eye went wide as his vision finally began to clear. Just in time to see what exactly was hovering above him.

“You... You’re-” The Master of Beast’s voice was cut short as something pressed lightly against his throat. The stag began to choke, his body wiggling instinctively as he felt his throat grow tighter and tighter, cutting off his air supply. The figure began to leave his view as the world grew darker and darker.

“Yes.”

“Finally, you’re back!” Vestri shouted to the soldier running back to him. His men had battled the beasts for several minutes, and were no closer to containing them than when they had started. He turned, hoping to order Hrathr to help him calm the beasts down. He alone could calm these rampaging war machines without hurting them.

There was one problem. Hrathr wasn’t there.

“Soldier, WHERE IS HRATHR?!” Vestri screamed, grabbing the soldier by the scruff of his collar. “I ordered you to FIND HIM AND BRING HIM HERE! My men are DYING here!” He pointed frantically to a burning building off to the side.

“I found him sir, but...” The stag wheezed. “He’s... Was dead when I found him.”

Vestri dropped the stag, his eyes staring blankly straight ahead upon hearing the news. His arms dropped to his side, his mind blank even as stags shouted and died, and warbeasts yelled and burned everything in sight all around him.

It was so obvious. He should have seen it coming. The assassin had used them. AGAIN. This was its plan all along.

“Sir?!”

No response from Vestri.

”SIR!”

Vestri was snapped back into reality. His head turned towards the source of the voice. A soldier that had been getting the Lieutenant’s attention for some time.

“What do we do? We can’t contain the-”

“Tell the men,” Vestri responded darkly. “To put them down.”

“Sir?!” The soldier question.

“You heard me.” He responded angrily. “Kill. The. Warbeasts.”

“But sir, without our warbeasts, we-”

”THAT’S AN ORDER!!” Vestri screeched as loudly as he could. “We can’t afford to take any more losses, it’s either them or us, and I’ll be damned if it’s going to be us!”

The soldier nodded, repeating the order to his comrades. Although some stags hesitated, the rampaging beasts soon put them all on the same page. They stopped trying to use ropes and nets, instead switching to spears, blades, maces, spells, anything they could use with any level of lethality.

Of course, the warbeasts wouldn’t go down easily. They yelled, snarled, charged, anything they could to stave off their deaths.

As caribou fought the beasts they once lorded over, a certain mare belonging to a certain council member could only watch, staring at the flames, as her city burned a second time.

When the smoke had settled, a large portion of the town had been destroyed. The streets lie blackened and lifeless, as did most of the buildings in the area. Amongst the burned out husks that comprised the port town, the bodies of the dead, both stag and beast, littered the streets. The stench of burned flesh hung high in the air.

In what remained of the center plaza, three figures stood. Or rather, two stood, and one sat at her master’s feet.

“Do we have a count, how bad is the damage? Our supplies? Our men?” King Dainn asked his right hand.

“It’s bad. Very bad.” Vestri responded, hanging his head low. “The rampaging beasts destroyed most of what’s left of our food stores. The warehouses on the eastern side of town is fine, but everything else...”

Sunny sighed a breath of relief. Her mother was fine, at least. Or so she hoped.

“To make matters worse,” Vestri continued. “We lost a lot of good men today, trying to contain them. Many more are injured. I’d say we’re down to about 40% of our forces. At best. Not to mention, we were forced to kill all the warbeasts.”

“Dammit!” Dainn responded.

“To make matters worse, this includes two of our masters of runes. Now, the only one left is that wood guy.”

Dainn gave Vestri a look that made him shrink.

“You’re holding something back.” Dainn said slowly to him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I...” Vestri stammered, and sighed. “Hrathr and Throtr were both killed, presumably by the assassin during the attack. Nothri is missing, the house he was commandeering was destroyed. I believe either the assassin or the warbeasts got to him.”

“First the blacksmith, then our supplies. Then our town. Now council members?” Dainn shouted shakily.

“It... It seems that we are the true target of the assassin.” Vestri commented sadly. “I just wish I’d realized that sooner.”

“We still don’t have an identity, do we?” Dainn responded.

Vestri opened his mouth to respond. But was interrupted.

“I caught him! I caught him!” A loud, brash, boastful voice roared pridefully. A large, decorated stag carrying a smaller stag by his mane burst in, a look of sheer, triumphant glee on his face. “I caught the traitor!”

“I am not a traitor!” The stag yelled in response. “Put me down!”

“Quiet you!” The larger stag yelled to the smaller one.

“Ivangir, Put. Gunne. Down.” Dainn growled. “...Now.”

Ivangir reluctantly released the smaller stag, causing him to fall to the sooty soil on his hands and lower legs.

“I was... I was...” Gunne puffed. “With the King before the attack started. “I’m not a traitor!”

“Shut up!” Ivangir yelled, backhanding the stag and knocking him into the dirt.

“Knock it off, Ivangir!” The King shouted in response.

“Why do you keep standing up for him?!” Demanded Vestri.

“Because he’s right. He was with me before the warbeasts got loose.” He yelled at Vestri before turning back to Ivangir. “As for you, I am getting sick and tired of your antics. I’ve told you before, if you’re going to accuse him, I want evidence. So where is it?”

“Antics?! Evidence?!” Ivangir shouted back. “I don’t need any!”

“I’m your king, and I say you do.” Dainn responded angrily.

“Well I don’t!” Ivangir boasted. “There’s no one else who could be-”

“There’s plenty of other people who could be!” Dainn yelled. “In fact there’s no guarantee that it’s a stag at all. For all we know it could be one of the ponies. Or several of them working together-”

“Hey, you’re the one who said it was a traitor, my liege.” Vestri spat.

“That’s not what I said at all!”

The conversation quickly devolved into verbal bickering as Gunne began to rise to his feet. He would use this opportunity to sneak away, perhaps apologise to the king later for dragging him into this. But something caught his eye as he stood.

He couldn’t quite make out, but there was definitely something at the end of a street a long ways away. A figure of some sort. Staring at him, at all three of them with an icy blue stare.

“Hey... You!” Gunne tried to yell to it, only managing a squeak. “Stop!” He managed to say a little louder.

The figure responded by turning and running.

“I said stop!” This time, Gunne was able to get out a proper yell. Instead of giving a reply, the figure rounded a corner.

Instinctively, Gunne began to run. After the figure.

“Hey where the hell are you going?!” Ivangir yelled to the fleeing Gunne.

“Gunne, come back!” Dainn shouted after him, for a completely different reason. Gunne didn’t stop however. Dainn began to run after him, his left and right hands quickly followed suit. Vestri however, forgot to take Sunny along on this chase, leaving her sitting.

“Vestri, wait!” Sunny yelled, quickly getting to her feet as she ran after her master, not wanting any other stag to catch her and have their way with her while Vestri wasn’t watching.

As Gunne approached the corner where he had seen the figure, he quickly dived into it without a second thought, even with the shouts of his liege behind him. He had a head start on his king, who likewise turned the corner when he reached it. Said corner turned into a back alleyway, with twists and turns everywhere.

Dainn lost sight of the smaller stag the moment he turned the corner into the alleyways. Try as he might, he could not find a single trace of his friend anywhere.

“Gunne? Gunne where are you?!” he shouted. No response. He searched every nook and cranny he could. But found nothing.

He was about to give up, to turn back when he felt something grab his ankle, roughly. He whirled around, not sure what he’d find. What he found was both the first, and last thing he hoped to find.

It was Gunne. He was on his stomach, his left hand grasping the king’s leg, while the other grasped his throat in desperation. His eyes were wide with fear as he looked up at his King as he struggled in vain to breath.

“Gunne!” Without a moment’s hesitation, the king knelt down, sliding his hands underneath his friend’s shoulders and rose, trying to get his friend to stand. It was of no use. Gunne’s legs seemed unable to support him. “Gunne, what happened?!” The King shouted desperately. Gunne’s left hand grabbed his friend’s shoulder without a thought.

“Hel... Me.... Daaaa” Was all that he was able to wheeze out before the small stag’s eyes rolled back into his head. Dainn gripped him tighter, tears formed in the monarch’s eyes as he shouted.

“Gunne! Gunne, no, stay with me Gunne!” He shouted, his voice becoming more and more desperate with each passing second. “Gunne, Guuuuunneeeee!!” The king yelled into the air. When the body of his friend fell out of his arms, it could be no longer denied.

Gunne had died.

Dainn cried loudly into the air. No words were formed from his lips, just mournful howls. He’d failed him. Not just as a ruler, but as a friend. The king could handle the loss of a few of his men. He could handle setbacks. But this... This was personal.

“Well well, looks like Gunne wasn’t the traitor after all” A vicious, husky voice laughed behind him. “Eh, too bad. I was looking forward to torturing him myself. Preferably by beating his slut of a sister.”

“Brother, stop. I don’t think-”

“Oh come on Vestri, don’t tell me you wouldn’t want a piece of that ass? I’m call dibs, by the way.”

Dainn rose to his feet. Tears were visible in the great king’s eyes as he turned to face his subordinate.

“Ivangir.” Dainn said without a hint of emotion in his voice.

“Yeah, what?” Ivangir responded.

At that moment, Dainn’s horn began glow, as did his lower right foot. His expression shifted to one of pure disgust and rage, rage that was poured into the magic on his horns, magic he focused on his foot, which in the blink of an eye, found its mark right in between the offending stag’s legs, the alleyway’s walls reverberating with a sickening crack as the foot made contact with flesh and bone.

Ivangir’s eyes flew open, his prideful smile contorting into a silent scream as his eyes went as wide as they could go. His hands flew to the source of the indescribable agony the stag was feeling. A feeling that shook his whole body, starting from where his King’s foot had met, and thoroughly destroyed his pride, his joy, and his malehood. In that order.

The giant stag slumped to the ground, rolling on his side as his body instinctively curled up in the fetal position. The large stag began to yell and scream with the most sickening cries anyone could hear. He began to roll back and forth on his back, an instinctual reaction to the pain that overtook his entire being.

His wails of torment quickly attracted the attention of a pair of stags that had been out and about. They rushed to the lieutenant. One began to kneel down to help him up-

“Don’t.” A low growl stopped the lower ranked caribou in his track, an open palmed hand thrust out adding to the stag’s order.

“My lord.” The caribou said in response as he rose to his feet again. “What do you want you want us to do?” The other one asked as they both gave a salute.

“Just leave him there.” The monarch said, waving his palm in the air lazily. The two stags simply stared at each other and shrugged.

“Of course, my lord.” They both said in response. Dainn paid them no mind, his attention still on the crying oaf bawling at his feet.

“I’ll be in my office when you’re ready to apologise for your behavior, lieutenant.” He said nonchalantly, carefully stepping over the stag as he made his way to the alley’s exist. Just as he reached the corner however, he stopped.

“And believe me...” He said, not bothering to turn around. “You’d better.” He finished with a growl before turning to his left, disappearing from view of the alleyway for good.

Ivangir looked up at his brother, still whining painfully, still gripping his crushed ballsack. Vestri simply put a hand to his chin, raising a single eyebrow to his brother. He gave a small grunt as he turned to his pet. She was holding her leash up for him. He grabbed the end of it, and gave it a slight tug. Sunny obediently followed her master, leaving the large stag she had dreaded behind.