Iron Prospect

Exhaustion was something a Royal Guard was trained extensively to endure. That, and pain. Both went double for anypony who worked the Equestrian border and beyond: lawless lands, rife with roaming monsters and bandits and numerous other dangers. Warg's Pass’ landlocked borders, nestled between the back and breast of Griffinstone to the west and the Gryphon Coalition eastward, were no different.

In all the years he’d spent protecting his country, fending off threats most ponies nowadays weren’t even aware existed, with only Her Highness’ best at his side, Captain Iron Prospect had never faced fatigue the likes of which he was presently experiencing.

He sucked in a breath through a nose crusted with dried blood, only able to open his unswollen eye fully. Wiggling his hooves, he found they were still tied to one another, tight enough to dig into his skin painfully, only allowing enough room to walk. Celestia, he did not want to take one more step.

“I see you’re awake.” Prospect tiredly lifted his head, glaring at the green-coated pony across from him in the mud. His armor was busted and coated in filth from the marsh. It looked as though something large had tried clawing its way inside. “Good. Bright and early, and you’ve still got a lotta miles to cover.”

Prospect continued glaring as the pony approached, pulling out a canteen and holding it out to him. “Drink,” he commanded.

“You’re making a grave mistake, Short Order,” Prospect said, clenching his teeth. “Untie me, and I give you my word this will be overlooked. You're not just endangering yourself here. Think about your family.”

Short Order didn’t even blink. “Drink,” he repeated. “Or would you prefer I get out the rag again?”

“I’m telling you, Short Order, it wasn’t my intention! Stop this demented game of yours so we can go home!” A hoof crashed into his jaw, throwing him to the ground.

“Not your intention!” Short Order cried, dragging Iron Prospect up against a tree and pressing his forehead against his. Prospect couldn’t ignore the large, bloodied wrapping covering the remains of the stallion’s right eye, the grisly bite marks over it nearly as seizing as his furious glare. “You led us into an ambush, Iron, and you disappeared the second things went to Tartarus!”

“It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out! The ponies we were there for were going to be marched out to us, no hassle!”

“And you decided the best way to guarantee that was to conspire with a Diamond Dog slaver!”

"He was willing to negotiate, and I knew the rest of you wouldn’t understand,” Prospect spat. “I was acting to save lives! To prevent blood from being spilt! If it meant bargaining with them instead of blindly charging into those deathtraps they call homes, I was willing to bargain!”

“And look where your 'bargaining' got us, Iron! You got twelve of the brightest Royal Guards Equestria will ever see―twelve of my best friends―killed!”

“They were my friends, too!”

Roaring, Short Order threw Iron Prospect to the ground. He narrowed his eye, pulling from his bandolier several knives, the blades looming threateningly overhead, all pointed at the wide-eyed stallion. “You had good intentions, Iron? You want to make things right? You’re gonna prove it by going until you bleed from the cracks in your hooves. Then you’ll go further than that. Walk.”

Saiph

Saiph adjusted the knife in her mouth as she worked, eyes narrowing. Vega’s voice floated on the breeze through the campsite as she briefed everypony on their objectives for the night. The wooden figurine in her hooves resembled a pegasus mid-flight, the finer details yet to be carved into it. Saiph appraised the carving for a moment after blowing away the shavings clinging to it, carefully bringing the knife to its rough surface…

She started when somepony elbowed her in the side, dragging an ugly gash into her craft. Turning to glare at the pony responsible, Saiph’s heart leapt to her throat when she found Perichot casting her a sidelong glance. Blushing, Saiph’s gaze snapped to the ground. Somepony cleared their throat. Saiph, a chill running up her spine, looked up to find herself face to face with Vega.

“Saiph,” Vega said. “Since you appear to have the energy to goof off, you just volunteered yourself for fireguard duty.”

Saiph’s jaw dropped.

Before she could even protest, another pony cut in. “Actually, Vega, we need an extra hoof in recon,” Perichot said. The contents of his saddlebag were splayed out in front of him on the forest floor. “Sky Spiral sprained her fetlock, and I refuse to allow her to go on our mission at the risk of aggravating her injury further.”

“When did this happen, Perichot?” Vega asked.

“Not too long ago, I reckon,” Perichot said, shaking his canteen next to his ear to gauge its fullness. “Likely yesterday morning’s ruck. Spiral’s been trying to disguise it, but she’s favored her left foreleg since we stopped.”

Sighing, Vega said, “You can have Saiph fill in for her, then. I’m going to find Sky in the meantime and check on her. Gonna give her a piece of my mind, I am…”

As she walked off to another point in their camp, Saiph looked back at Perichot in astonishment. “Uh, t-thanks, Perichot. Fireguard is mind-numbing.”

Perichot’s ear swivelled to her, the pony already focused on something else. He began folding his poncho liner when he told her, “Don’t thank me just yet, Saiph. You, Vivid Root, Lilac Cross and I are heading to Brighthaven a few klicks out.” He picked up the figurine Saiph dropped, wiping off the mud clinging to it and giving it an approving glance before hoofing it back to her.

Saiph pursed her lips. “Brighthaven? The name sounds familiar, but I just can’t place it…”

“I’m not surprised. It’s an obscure village, but one with a history: Brighthaven’s one of the towns the more vocal opponents of Princess Luna fled to when she became Nightmare Moon.”

“We’re going to a settlement of sun fanatics!?”

Stuffing his poncho liner into his saddlebag, Perichot nodded. “We’ve lost two scouts and reports of Diamond Dog activity have skyrocketed. No way that’s just coincidence. Any information we can gather from the locals could lead us to them.”

Saiph grimaced. “Perichot, these aren’t just the average, paranoid yokels. They’re carrying a thousand-year grudge against the princess and anything related to her! It’s just as likely that they’re the reason Teal Gulch and Jadalaque are MIA!”

Perichot went silent, lifting his gaze to the silhouette on the moon for a moment. “I’ve considered the same thing, Saiph.” He placed a hoof on her shoulder. “And if that’s the case, well… we’ll finish what Princess Luna started.”

With that, Perichot went to brief the other members of their four-pony squad. Saiph looked down to the figurine in her hoof, eyeing the gash she’d accidentally carved into its side. Her eyes then went to the knife she’d dropped earlier. She picked it up, wiping the instrument off as best as she could on her armor, staring into her slitted eyes in the blade.

The Thestrals had inherited a monumental task in Princess Luna’s absence; they were the nameless soldiers of the Equestrian frontier, laboring a thankless, terrible task without end. But until death came for them, they would continue their grim duty without complaint. They were monster hunters, after all, and so they would do what they had for a millennia: they would hunt monsters.

The night saw Saiph and her comrades travelling through the dense Ravenwood Forest. They could not to cover the distance more quickly as Lilac Cross was not a pegasus, but they made acceptable pace regardless, taking turns carrying him. Fortunately, they’d only encountered a few skittish deer and the odd fox as they headed to their destination.

The moon bathed them in its gentle glow as, after a little over a full day of tedious travel, they found themselves staring up at the great wooden walls of Brighthaven. The wall was a string of staunch lumber erected length-to-length, as though fused to one another after sprouting from the very earth itself. A dirt path led from its entrance to a small creek teeming with game. Aside from the obvious tampering that went into crafting the village, the surrounding forest was left largely untouched; it would take a flier―and one with a keen eye at that―to take notice of the relatively small dent in the overhanging blanket of nature.

“Bit more fortress-y than I was expecting, I tell you,” Vivid Root said, standing before its gate. “The sun-lovers know how to put together a defense if nothing else. Guess Celestia, in her ‘divine wisdom’, must have planted the notion of good craftsmanship into their minds.”

Perichot snorted, appraising the sharpened stakes filed from the abundance of oak surrounding them primed to gut any unwelcome guests who got the idea to climb over the walls. “Well, it’s that or have the wildlife tear you to chunks, Root. I doubt Brighthaven would be here after all this time if they weren’t able to adapt.”

Saiph brushed past Lilac Cross, whose horn was alight as he spent what time he could spare meditating to draw from the magic surrounding them, to inspect the gate. “Unoccupied,” she muttered, suspicious. Raising her voice, she said, “I’m not sure how the sun worshippers think things work, but there tends to be a pony at the gates.”

“Saiph, it’s past midnight. What else would you expect?” Vivid Root said.

“I’d expect there to be somepony at the gate, Vivid Root. We’re in the middle of the forest; anything could crawl out of the brush at any point in the night and you’re telling me nopony’s at least standing watch?”

Vivid Root’t expression turned ponderous as Perichot pursed his lips.

Wings twitching, Saiph said, “I’ll be right back.” Before anypony could say anything, she launched herself into the air, easily gliding over the spiked walls and landing on the other side of the gate. She kicked the catch and strained, trying to pull the wheel controlling the gate.

“What the hay, Saiph!” Perichot shouted, having followed after her. “Do not run off like that!”

“Noted, sir,” Saiph grunted, pushing against the defiant wheel. “Mind helping me with this?”

Huffing, Perichot moved her aside and replaced the stick acting as a catch for the wheel. Lifting his hoof to his mouth, he whistled, and a moment later Vivid Root flew over the gate, Lilac Cross in tow.

“Celestia’s sun-plastered flanks, Cross, cut the pie out of your diet!” Vivid Root said, panting.

“If you weren’t carrying me, I’d give you a shiner for that,” Lilac Cross responded.

“Alright, stop your bickering, you foals, we have work to do.” Perichot nodded his head at Saiph, and everypony fell into step. The town had a second wall constructed behind the gates, a large door sitting closed that would allow the Thestrals entrance.

Lilac Cross praised the forethought that went into preventing large predators from waltzing in and having an all you can eat buffet if they’d ever gotten past the first gate. “Contingencies, eh? Clever,” he said.

The four pushed through the door, eyes searching for any threat, when they noticed just how quiet the town was. The roads linking the agricultural area to the communal houses were empty, and every house was absent of light. In a town of ponies who worshipped the light and despised the night, that there was next to no source of it, no sign of patrolling sentries or even the odd late-night drunk, made Saiph’s coat stand on end.

The only place that seemed to be alive was the building in the middle of the town. All roads led to the church, and so the squad followed Perichot to the nucleus of Brighthaven.

Despite herself, Saiph breathed a relieved sigh when they discovered a sign of life within the monastery. There, at the foot of the chapel, rested a lantern glowing warm with incense. Muted chanting could be heard on the other side of the door. The building was humble and sturdy in design as all others in Brighthaven were, but it was clear this was where most of the community’s attention went after the defenses in the town’s construction.

Perichot’s lips were a straight line. “Alright. Vivid Root, Lilac Cross, you two remain out here. Me and Saiph will go inside and speak to whoever is in charge. We don’t want to spook the populace, but be ready to spring if things go south. We’ll regroup at the brook outside the walls if we’re separated. Any questions?” When everypony uttered their understanding, Perichot looked at Saiph. “C’mon, let’s go introduce ourselves to the locals.”

Saiph grimly nodded. Looking back to her other squadmates, who were already watching for danger, she rolled her withers as she prepared herself for any upcoming excitement. When she reached Perichot’s side, the stallion lifted his hoof and slowly pushed the door to the church open.

“Risen the sun,
upon my soul it shines…”

Upon entering, Perichot and Saiph looked around, finding several ponies, seated in rows, praying in unison. A few were roused from their recitation when the door shut, turning around to glance at the two.

“The shadow leaves me,
fearful of Her light.”

At the far end of the room, sitting on a raised platform, was a black-haired unicorn clothed in a flowing blue robe. Wrapped around her eyes was a white blindfold. Saiph noticed that a small few of the gathered audience, too, shielded their eyes, and for some reason the hair of her coat stood on end. She and Perichot slowly stepped forward through the center aisle.

“Risen the sun,
through me flows Her light,
making me pure,
worthy of Her sight.”

By now, most of the room had ceased their prayers, those with their eyes unobstructed staring expressionlessly at the two newest guests as they made their way to the cleric. The unicorn, undeterred, finished the hymn even when the voices of her chorus faded to static:

“Risen the sun,
higher than all.
I fear not the Moon,
shielded by Her hold.
Risen the sun,
upon my soul it shines.
To Her Divine Radiance
I offer soul and life.”

All eyes remained on the visitors. The room was silent as the grave. Perichot felt a line of sweat trail down his forehead beneath his helmet, and Saiph’s eyes shifted restlessly from one potential threat to the next as she settled into a stance that would allow her to quickly fight or retreat. The cleric hummed.

“‘Twould appear we have visitors,” she said, her voice soft. The mare turned her head to the Thestrals as though unblinded, and, though her eyes were hidden, Saiph felt the penetrating stare leveled at them. “Though, moon-scented, and wearing the brand of the Bloody Revenant… What black force compels thee to defile these most hallowed of halls with thy presence, servants of the Nightmare?”

“Vicar,” Perichot diplomatically greeted. “I am Perichot. This here is my partner, Saiph.”

“I know who thou art,” the vicar said. “Forego the pleasantries, darklurker. Wherefore art thou here?”

“We’ve lost two of our own, ma'am. We came to collect any information those local to the area may be able to provide to aid us in our search for them.”

“Then thy search was in vain.”

Perichot growled, taking a step forward. Several acolytes moved from their seats at the action. “This is your problem as well, vicar. Something out there is snatching up ponies, and we have reason to believe it to be the work of the Diamond Dogs. Doesn’t that worry you?”

“It concerneth me not the disputes of thee and thy heathen, darklurker; Celestia’s light mercifully washes away such filth ‘pon her beckoning.” The vicar waved her hoof and her followers obediently took their seats once again. She then turned her head to the pair. “Thou wilt return to the shadows whence thou cam’st, and ne’er sully the paths of Brighthaven again, lest Her Majesty’s ire targets thee.”

“She’s hiding something, I just know it!”

“Calm down, Saiph,” Perichot said. “It’s not like we weren’t expecting worse. No use getting worked up over it.”

The Thestral squad was huddled up around a small campfire in a secluded patch of the Ravenwood. The crackle of the splintering wood in the flame was drowned out by the den of nocturnal ambience as insects and other creatures sang their waking songs. Lilac Cross and Vivid Root were pressed against one another, with Perichot on his belly by the fire, watching as Saiph paced about the fire.

“Yeah,” Vivid Root chimed in. “You’re a lot more restless than usual, Saiph. Why’s this got you so worked up?”

“I don’t know, I…” Saiph shook her head. “I think, no, I know that nun is involved somehow.”

Perichot plucked a blade of grass, tossing it into the fire. “I can’t fault you for thinking that, Saiph, but be rational: groups as insular as these? They never leave their walls. These ponies probably still think the princess is out there somewhere, ready to abduct them in the dark although there’s evidence enough to debunk that whenever you look up at night.”

“I don’t know, Perichot. I just have a feeling, I guess.”

“I’ll bring it up to Vega when we get back to camp. But it doesn’t make much sense for them to leave us be if they’re responsible for Teal Gulch and Jadalaque disappearing.”

Saiph plodded her plot down with a sigh. “You don’t reckon that―”

Everypony jumped to defensive stances when the snap of a twig thundered through the darkness blanketing their surroundings. Saiph scanned the forest for movement, trusting Lilac Cross to cover the source of the noise as he ignited his horn in preparation for a fight.

The bushes rustled, the Thestrals tensing, and out of the brush stepped the silhouette of a stallion. “Woah, woah, I come unarmed, black coats.”

“Are you one of the Solars?” Perichot asked, no less on guard. “State your business.”

“‘Twasn’t easy, the trip here,” the old stallion said, maintaining his distance. “Ye be warriors, yes? The hoof-chosen bloodshedders of Dawn’s Menace?”

“Choose your next words carefully, zealot,” Perichot said, his tone cold. “And then leave.”

As the figure hazarded a few steps closer, the fire revealed the weathered face of an old stallion. “I need your help,” he tiredly said.

“Pft. Why would you ask us for help, you old coot?” asked Vivid Root, confused.

“It’s about my son, Golden Shine. He’s been gone two weeks.”

“Why do you come to us asking this?” Perichot said. “What about your community?”

“Sister Dawn is not fond of outsiders, you see. Not fond at all. She hates them, she does. And she is not fond of questions about the outside, either. Ponies who ask too many questions, she sends into the woods for some time. Tells them to bring a divine offering back as a show of their faith. Radiance guides them safely on their journey in most cases, but… some are never again seen.”

Vivid Root scoffed. “What, you don’t consider that to be your goddess’ will?”

The old stallion glared at Vivid Root. “My faith in Her is not to be questioned!”

“If that’s so, then why’re you here?”

The stallion paused a moment. “How long ago did you lose contact with your kin?”

Vivid Root didn’t answer, narrowing his eyes at the old stallion.

“Not too great a difference in time, then. And that does not strike you as odd?”

Easing his stance, Perichot trotted toward the old stallion. “So you want the dreaded ‘darklurkers’ to bring you your son? I am doubtful your priestess will be pleased with that.”

“I love my son more than I fear her,” the old stallion said.

“...Very well,” Perichot said, nodding. “If we find him in our search for our own, we’ll get you your son back.”

The old stallion took a shuddering breath. “Bless you, sir. Bless you. My boy was last seen near Grainstone Peak. It would mean a lot to me to see him well.”

The old stallion shook Perichot’s hoof before turning around and fading back into the darkness.

Author's Note

Begin Episode 2.

Begin Chapter 3.

Huge thanks to HorseWordFan for allowing me to use his OC, Short Order. I really appreciate it!