The Heroes we Are

Chapters

The Boy Amidst the Flames
Mage and Knight 1
Mage and Knight 2

The Boy Amidst the Flames

The Heroes we Are: Prologue: The Boy Amidst the Flames

Fire burned. Flesh tore from the bodies, blood poured from the veins and charred skin filled my eyes. The world was a special hell that I’d bought myself into. The site was a feast of blood and a baptism of fire. I saw nothing but the result of my dream.

My ears only registered the screams of people who clung to life mere moments before they tumbled to their demise. My eyes only witnessed the inferno that threatened to claw and thrash at the world itself. My skin only felt the dry air that filled the wind’s breath and attacked to crack my skin. My throat only tasted the heavy blood that ran through my mouth. My nose only noticed the familiar scent of gunpowder that, over time, had become a part of me. My mind only recollected a past memory that would be the beginning of the path that would lead to this moment.

I want to be a hero!

I started to laugh, my lips jutted up and down in the lively manner I was never allowed to have. A sickly chuckle accompanied the image of despair that is this reality. I started to calmly go mad. What is this farce? Is this the end of my ideal? Is this reality or illusion, life or death? Why must I, alone, suffer this fresh hell? I lived my life for THIS? THIS is the result of my dream?

Why, why, why. I started to scratch at my hair. Why, Why, Why. I started to claw at the only thing I can at this point. WHY, Why, Why. I started to tear everything out. WHY, WHY, WHYYYYYY!!?!? My throat gave sound and a wretched scream pierced the air.

My eyes were frozen, doomed to forever witness the death of many. I saw the dry air contrasting with the fresh life dying before me. The buildings fitted the scenery I was forced to witness. The sight of the impact on windows painted the scene of ruin. The bricks are splattered over like the scene of blood splashed across a human chest. The rooftops laid on the ground, forever stained with the inability of doing their purpose. The furniture, inside, forever split like human limbs sprawled across the floors.

Howls of anguish flooded the air like the music of a symphony. The scene of extreme sorrow violated my heart. The banquet of fire fluttered through the ashes. The beauty of the destruction only magnified the tragedy of it all. The thought of hope only gave sight to this image of despair.

The people that were the highlight of this tragedy were the only things I had eyes for. All of them had the grip of flames clenched to their bodies. Many of them were lucky. Most unleashed a single harrowing scream before they faded into death.

Some weren’t so lucky.

Some had to live through the rubble on them, their countdown to death being the fading fury of their hearts. Some were run through with the shards of glass that released their despair. Some of them lived only to witness the despair of their family members and follow them afterwards. Some of them managed to raise a valiant effort against the flames walking around for any survivors but, alas, the flames eventually overtook them. They all waited for the hand of death called fire to send them away from this scene of despair called hell.

I ran. My legs carried me to the sources of such anguish and horror. I did the impossible and ran across this scene of carnage. I searched for anyone still alive, any person able to live through this environment. The sight of countless corpses filled the next few hours. As I pushed back the rubble that buried countless people possibly still breathing, I wondered to myself. Was it all worth it?

The next thing that gave me grief was the sight of a child. His pale, bloodless body was covered in red. I couldn’t tell if it was his blood or that of others. His eyes weren’t that of the image of an innocent child, no, he had seen far too much for that anymore. His cracked skin was that akin to a smoker’s, the surface being fractured by the dry air attacking him. I saw every part of him. I saw myself at that age, innocent, pure with only a simple wish.

I want to be a hero!

The simple wish taunted me now. What was once pure and sweet, over time, became covered with the blood of despair and the ordeal called obsession. I cursed everything about it. I cursed the ideals I held in my hands and, with a roar to the sky, I tore at myself. I cursed my existence for bringing my ideals to such a place. This landscape of horror was my reality now.

Where did my dreams take me? Here? Why? I only lamented these questions. I only contemplated the beautiful and ugly things before. Only now I realized the truth. The ugly things became beautiful here and the beautiful things became ugly. The truth I knew was shattered and inverted beyond my scope of vision.

I wanted to cry that this wasn’t my desire. I wanted to lament that this wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to yell that this was just an illusion. I at least wanted to lie to myself. I didn’t give birth to this tragedy. Only the crackle of flames surrounds my body. My lamentation gave voice to my own hypocrisy. This is what being a hero means. The young voice once again echoes through my mind.

I want to be a hero!

Shut up... shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP YOU BASTARD!

A groan of anguish filled my throat. The echoes of sorrow cut through the crackles of destruction. A voice of long forgotten regrets grew to be a part of the scenery called hell.

How much of this was the result of my ideals? How much of this was not my fault? How much sophistry must I go through before I’m satisfied!?

But I couldn’t turn back now. The price of justice has been paid in blood. I couldn’t turn time back or spin the fabrics of reality to prevent this monstrosity from happening. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. A silent sob escaped my throat and my eyes started to well up in tears. I cried silently into the boy’s chest, ignoring whatever horrors were being released beyond this moment. The world had gone in flames and I choked in grief at my inability to stop this scene. These daily occurrences were never going to stop. Never... never, never, never, Never, Never, NEVER!

Unless...

I looked up at the sky. Dawn hadn’t cracked its light down yet. There was one way, one way to make this scene stop. If some greater power is there, give me power. If my wish is too big for one man to realize, then give me power to realize it. If the scope of my dream is too big for one man to accomplish then give the power to make them come true. If the magnitude of my being is too small to attain the miracle that is my ideal then give me a greater power.

I shouted out to the gods above me. The slightest crack of light enveloped my body.

“HEY! Listen to me! I can’t save the world from itself with my own power! So you know what? Give me more power! If I can’t do it with my own power then give me power to save the world! You can do it, can’t you, you BASTARDS!”

My tirade against the beings beyond the earth ended in a hoarse throat and my hopes enlightened and crushed in a matter of seconds. I wavered a few seconds of consciousness. Finally, my vision caved in, my eyes served their final purpose. The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was a hoof of white reaching out from the crack of dawn with a single tease.

“Your wish will be reality.”

Mage and Knight 1

The Heroes we Are: Chapter 1: Mage and Knight: Night of Schemes

The sound of wind stirs my conscious. I can’t seem to open my eyes quite yet. I start to get up. My body isn’t moving the way I want it to and it seems unfamiliar in its movements. A groan escapes the limbs and joints. I feel a smooth surface rubbing against me as my body starts going up. I finally lift myself from the floor.

I try to crack my head sideways as is my daily wake up ritual. The crack of consciousness brings my senses to shape. A motion of the jaw releases the sound of yawning to my ears. The jolt of activity brings me to crack at least one eye open. I open myself to the world before me.

I see a room filled to the brim with exquisite works of art. The marble floor has stained tile patterns to match the beauty of its occupants, its peerless reflection serving to allow the observer to see brilliance from any angle of the room. The walls are adorned with works of art that strive to surpass the fickle scythe of time. I could see how cared for the masterpieces are, with the rows of brushes and cloths neatly placed on a table on the far side of the room. They are all stained with the mark of a hygienic hand and the blots known as filth.

The one peculiar oddity about these artworks is the subject of them. They are all about ponies. I’m not talking about the ponies you see next to a very cliché picture of a farm. I’m talking about the ponies you see in fantasy books. Ponies with wings, that seemed to soar beyond the paintings themselves, made their company in the canvas. Ponies with sources of magic on their foreheads were painted as champions of magic, defending against forces beyond the mundane. The only ponies I could recognize were the ponies that were given the warmth of nature surrounding their bodies, interacting with what was around them.

I examine the higher parts of the room. There are windows higher than my ‘body’ can reach. The light shining through the windows indicates that it’s night’s time to appear. A moan goes through my mouth as I try to figure out exactly what happened to me.

What’s going on?

As I start to put my hand on my forehead to calm myself down, I realize something. My hand is, for a lack of a better word, black. It’s kind of like an off-focus photograph, the outlines of the black hand were constantly shifting, like a mist, I can even see double or triple the features of my hand as if by hallucination. My eyes aren’t just the only part of me trying to disbelieve this alien sight. My mind is forcing me to consider this a nightmare.

I dare not scream as to not cause a scene. I don’t know anything about this place. Why would I consider giving myself away? I needed more information before going on. My eyes turn away from the abnormal hand and decide to examine the rest of my body.

What. The. Hell.

My whole body is enveloped in the black fog that obscures the defining features of my hand. My body itself is tinted with a pitch black that engulfs my very being. The illusionary mist, combined with the black hue of my body, makes trying to figure out my body a mystery to me.

One of the features I can tell from sight alone is the fact I was a bipedal creature, with discernible legs and hands. From the way the floor looks, from seeing it through my head at full height, I estimate a height of about 6 ft 10 inches. Another, rather embarrassing, fact I would prefer not to say is that I’m naked. No, get your head out of the gutter, I can’t see if I have such defining features or not, they are all cloaked in the illusionary mantle of fog and I’m not going to use my hands to find out.

I consider what my face looks like so I tried to take a careful look at the reflection of the floor. I creep down with my legs to try to get a clearer image. My eyes start to focus closely at the reflection on the floor. The shape is almost there. My eyes are just adjusting to the finer details. I see it at last… and immediately regret my decision.

I slap my hands across my mouth to stop myself from screaming. I can’t even describe it. I wouldn’t know where to begin. It’s a combination of sickly and disturbing rolled into one nasty ‘face’. Even the fact that my face was the only part of me that isn’t obscured by the black fog gives me no solace. In fact, I want the fog to hide everything about it.

The thing I could tell with absolute clarity was the shape of the eyes. They were a hue of pure white. There was no room for irises or different shades, being the picture perfect example of achromatic color. They reflected everything they saw, just a faded lifelessness overlooking everything I see.

Ok, calm down, think about it for more than a few minutes, you’re an unknown creature in an unknown world. Concentrated white eyeballs aren’t going to make that any worse or different.

A thousand thoughts race through my head to consider what I’d do next. Some are of the rational nature, some irrational and some just plain weird. After careful consideration, I figure out what I’m going to do. I have to get out of here, seek help and figure out this world. Seems crazy, probably is; then again, I’m basically a black mass with fog shifting around me. I think I need to adjust my level of sanity here.

I decide to examine the room for anything I could use. Amidst the collections of artwork, reveals a mass covered by cloth. My eyebrows furrow, this didn’t seem like your usual hidden sculpture or bust. I decide to walk over, the crack of bone perhaps, creak through the air with every step towards the concealed pile. I reach the bundle of cloth and, after mentally preparing myself, lift off the cloth hiding what was under.

Wind bursts out. A violent storm takes hold of the space in the room. A thousand blades of wind rage their edges against the confinement of the small room. The typhoons claim everything in their wake. I immediately cover my eyes and face to protect myself from the thrashing swords, letting my body take the brunt of the forceful tempest. The teeth of the formless steel drive their fangs into my ‘flesh’. I get a little closer to going unconscious as the violent zephyrs beat against my body.

The runaway gales tear through the paintings like raging storms should. Every few seconds, scratches would appear on the works, those scratches would turn into cuts and later those cuts would appear as if a berserker had taken his sword and took a good few unskilled swings at the paintings. The sculptures fared no better, the unrelenting winds being able to slash through marble easily as a hot knife to butter. The destruction resulted in a site of disarray, the marks of thrashing storms laid out for anyone to witness.

I’ll have to pay the owners back later.

I examine my condition first off. My body’s not too bad for wear, a few grazes and cuts, but not bad compared to the ruin surrounding me. I feel a light wind pass through now. I turn my eyes to the source of the tempest.

There’s a sword or, at least, what appears to be a sword, I can’t tell. I can only tell that the blade is covered in a barrier of wind, multiple layers shifting to conceal the sword’s true identity. The handle is the only revealed part of the sword. I grasp at it, reaching out to hold it. It fits perfectly with my hand. I examine the edge of the sword more closely. It looks as though blades of wind are surrounding the sword. I resist the urge to reach my other hand to touch the actual blade. These blades just indirectly caused a calamity so I wasn’t going to shove my hand in there. The one thing that was clear, this sword didn’t belong with the setting of the room.

Maybe someone left it here, perhaps? I’ll send it to the authorities here.

Then for some reason, as I stare at the supposedly peerless sword, words pop into my thoughts, I scrunch what I think are my brows deeper and concentrate on recalling the words, closing my eyes for absolute focus.

Empty Edge - Breath of the Unicorn King: A barrier of wind unsurpassed in speed and edge that releases high compressed air to conceal the identity of the sword behind it. These blades of wind distort the refraction of light and renders what is hidden invisible to the naked eye. These layers of wind can take the form of tearing blades, flowing fields of air or become a vacuum of force. They can increase the speed and cutting potential of the weapon hidden underneath or become a ranged burst of wind. The most versatile of weapons, a hero never reveals his true abilities.

I open my eyes. The words fade away from my mind. I try to smile, not sure if my face is capable of doing so. I check the floor once again. Nope, it only turned out a grimace. A silent shrug passes through the room. At least I have a tool to help me. I further examine the room for anything else. The only things I can see are the cloth I threw on the floor and the scene of chaos that covers the otherwise spotless floor, a few specks of something shining peering through the rubble. The cloth… it kept the wind from bursting out earlier, perhaps it nullifies magic? It seems like it could be useful. I reach out to grab the cloth and cover the obscured sword with it, wrapping it around the sharp edge.

It’s time to get out of here.

I started for the door, not wishing to spend any more time here, when a sound at the door alerts me. My mind goes into gear and I decide the best method is to observe the situation that plays out.

I turn my body towards the behind of the only sculpture left intact right beside the door, a statue of a unicorn in armor draped in a cape. The cape itself is fastened by the shape of moons connected by a chain of intertwined crescents. The only signs of what makes this pony unique, beside attire, are his eyes. They have the twinkle of all-compassing power, lunar shaped irises that gave absolute authority to all who opposed him. I don’t have the time to consider whether this is artistic license or not.

I bend my legs down the ground and wait for who or what is on the other side. The door swings open. A few seconds later of checking the condition of the room and they seem to let themselves in.

I can at least tell they’re ponies or have the shape of ponies. I can’t get a clear look at their coats, peering from just behind the statue. The capes and hoods that cover their coats and heads would be the second reason. They’re of a black dye with deep blue trims on their edges. After a few moments of silence, they both open up their hoods and reveal their true colors.

One of them is a dirt-brown unicorn with a darker brown mane, his eyebrows fixed on his face, examining what was on the floor with a cool eye. The other unicorn seems more of a shifty nature, his grey coat constantly twitching and his white mane disheveled. They both check what has become of the room.

“W-w-what happened right?”

“You’ve never seen something broken?”

“I-I-I mean did someone else scour the place already!?”

“They said this was our mark, someone must’ve decided to hinder our search. Let’s proceed and for Celestia’s sake, be silent.”

“o-o-OK!”

I confirm a few things, they seem to be the only ones coming in, and they were looking for something. These unicorns are capable of telekinesis, a magic grip holding the pieces of rubble and throwing them aside. The two unicorns work in tandem with each other, the brown one holding the rubble up high and the other throwing it aside as they switch the magical burdens. They inspect the site of ruin in search of their objective with a drive of clinic precision.

I hold my breath, waiting for a chance to get out. I can’t be absolutely certain that I can get the upper hand even with a surprise attack. My body is still too stiff to attempt such a rash decision. If I use the element of surprise on them and I don’t get both on the first try, the other will retaliate. I have no idea how fast they would react but I definitely know that this site of wreckage would be the perfect battlefield for wielders of telekinesis. The shards of picture frames and fragments of statues would, in a mistake’s notice, turn into spears and swords capable of tearing through my flesh.

Even at the off chance their minds won’t be alert, I can’t be sure my body wouldn’t share that same flaw. I’ve just gotten here in an unfamiliar body. This is no time to aggravate these unicorns without reason. I continue to observe the hunt these unicorns are processing with, the sheen of their magic still driving the search forward.

Finally, the shine of magic dims and the room shines with only night’s light. The only movement in the room is the brown unicorn’s with his eyes scanning everywhere, the gleam in his eyes being the only sight inspecting the disarray. He looks over the rubble of the statues and the mess of the site. He surveys the area with a through eye, scouring what his magic can’t at the moment. After a few minutes of his eyes fixated he turned with a cool stare to his partner.

“Let’s go, we shouldn’t linger.”

The grey unicorn nods in agreement and, as they fasten their cloaks to cover their appearance, he stares at the statue I’m hiding behind. I see into his eyes for the first time since he came in. I almost shriek in surprise. The sight of the eyes leaves me craving a clear space to empty my stomach.

They’re normal in shape and gold in hue but an abnormality takes hold of that gaze. It is of a mad nature, filled to the brim of insanity and crazed frenzy. Those eyes are the eyes of a hunter robbed of all reason, a zeal that only madness could rein tight. They hold a blue light overseeing everything that the mad hunter sees. They stare at the statue-

No. An infectious thought clouds my mind. My mind stays fixated on one stubborn idea. My throat runs ragged with the breath of desperation. My blood freezes at the thought of this occurrence.

Does this unicorn see me?

I stay my breath, my hands clamp onto my mouth in the hopes of not giving away my position. I can’t be entirely certain he does know I’m here, logical reasoning asking why he hasn’t told his partner yet. If the unicorn is planning a surprise attack however, that’s a different story.

If he pounces at me, there’s no way he wouldn’t be able to tear me apart with the weapons laid out on the floor. Even if I anticipate it, the moment he jumps me will be the moment that this fight breaks into a two against one slaughter against him and his partner. With the rubble prepared for them, only a fate of spears skewering me and blades cleaving my body apiece awaits.

My mind flashes, considering any idea that I could put to action. If he doesn’t know I’m hiding then I can simply rest assured. If he does know that I’m hiding, then the only reason he isn’t swooping at me would probably to have me make the first move. Should I take the risk? His gaze stays on me, unwavering in its focus. The grey unicorn’s eyes are still visible even after he’s fastened his cape and covered his face. The light of his gold eyes burns a bright blue focusing its glare at me. I have the sinking feeling he can see through objects.

I prepare my legs to burst forth. I can only rely on the explosive power of my legs now. I’ve made my decision. I’ll dash at the grey unicorn and knock him out. I’ll take care of the brown unicorn afterwards as he realizes what happened. I can only bet on my endurance and agility, my only hopes are that my legs outpace their magic and that my body can take the jagged edges of the debris that may come. My knees crouch in preparation for the start of the ambush. My mind turns into a blade, its edge as sharp as what I want my movements to be. This is it, as soon as I seize weakness in his movements, I’ll strike.

He keeps his eyes locked onto me, never leaving my sight. The unicorn didn’t seem to want to move, his body as still as his eyes. The atmosphere between us is as malleable as a warm scalpel carving into human skin. I feel a numbing strain where I bent my knees, the silence between us has gone long enough. This is it. The moment he blinks is the moment I thrust forth. I already know which part to target, the most fragile part of most living beings, the head.

I peer into his unflinching stare. His eyes are emanating an unrestrained bloodlust seeping out of his eyes. He’s going to strike. He’s not going to show any weakness and I can’t hope for a careless moment at this point. His hooves aren’t poised for attack but his eyes scream a lust for slaughter. His body shows the emotion of impatience but his eyes state the inhumane nature of the unicorn before me. Now’s the time, either him or me, who will success first? I breathe slowly, my claws poised at the unicorn like the killing glare locked onto me…

The grey unicorn turns away from me, those mystical eyes averting their gaze from me. The heavy atmosphere takes its leave from this room. He turns to his partner and a different tone takes hold of his voice.

“L-l-let’s go-”

As if by an agony controls his body, his mouth seizes, and just as suddenly, spews a layer of red onto the floor of the storage of beauties. The liquid spreads erratically on the floor, the cracks of a red spider web given life. The supposedly mad unicorn shows true signs of humanity: weakness.

His mouth sprawls downwards while his suffering erodes any remaining signs of reason, manifesting as groans of anguish. His partner heeds no attention to this display of misery and continues his stroll towards the outside with an air of indifference.

“Hurry now, we can’t afford to give away our position now.”

The grey unicorn’s body spasms as the pain overrides even his furious howls. Finally, as the voice of coherent words reached him, his body froze with a surreal calm. Only a slight twitch from his hooves told of his recent fits. His head ascends with a strained composure.

The pair starts to leave the shimmering room of wonders with the grey unicorn lagging behind slightly. They leave the storage and, with their capes fluttering about, blend with the darkness that lurks outside.

I relax a bit, my breath moving at a normal rate. My body sags lightly, the muscles loosening from the calm of an uneventful respite. I decide what I should consider next-

Hang on, what’s with the voices outside? I move around the statue and put my head against the wall beside the door and take note of what’s happening. The murmur of voices engages my attention. They seem to not have moved past three meters from the warehouse.

“Her presence will only hamper our progress.”

“S-S-so what do you s-s-s-ugge-s-st?”

A heavy pause occupies the atmosphere.

“That we do not allow her to hamper our progress.”

A cold feeling takes hold of my body, coating it in a chill I’ve never felt before. Was there an unwelcome witness? If so, then they were planning on… I shake my head and ponder on my next actions with an air of caution. The smart thing would be to mind my own business, I mean, logically this is none of my concern. The smart thing would be to simply let them do what they’re going to do. The smart thing would be to shut my mouth and simply let them eliminate the witness.

The jump of my legs pouncing through the night rushes past my ears, the wind whishes from the charge of my sprint. My arms, outstretched, lunge forth to smash the head of the enemy before me. A look of bare comprehension crosses the brown unicorn, as he turns to face me, just before his face contorts from the impact of my fist.

The unicorn flies easily through the night like a puppet thrown through the air. His body crumples with a thud, the crunch of flesh and earth echoing through the night sky. The only sign of life left in the broken pony is his chest, gasping at whatever air the broken body could scour.

God, I’m an idiot, so much of an idiot that idiocy must run through my veins like the blood that keeps me alive.

The grey unicorn jerks his face towards me, his eyes glaring a twisted vengeance straight at me. My body’s already in motion with my left arm upraised, poised to strike. The clothed sword mercilessly tears through the air. The decisive moment between victory and loss, a few seconds before the crazed mage falls as easily as his partner. Finally, it comes, as if time stops-

Herk-!?

No, time doesn’t stop, only my sword stopping seconds short of digging into the supposedly mad mage. The dim glow of magic halts the swing of my arms. The ghastly grasp of his magic cling its unyielding hands to the blade. The unicorn before me manages a feat of precision beyond a magician who’s supposedly forsaken all reason.

That expression, if there were any redeeming features to it, starts to be dyed with the color of malice. Anger distorts the face, frozen in a murderous fury. It twists its jaw and lets out a groan lacking in any human speech. A hunter who preys on his target, the golden gaze is locked onto his vulnerable victim. The unicorn bellows a scream befitting of a mad beast, howling a heartless verdict of death.

There’s no way I can let go of my blade. The moment my grip loosens, the moment the blade turns into a fang for the mad beast.

Desperately, I try to wrench the blade away from the magical glow. The translucent hands remain adamant, its demonic claws clenching on my sword. Despite the skilled art my eyes witness, the wielder doesn’t show any strain from the use of magic alone. His face doesn’t contort or writhe from this show of thaumaturgy.

The disheveled unicorn’s legs crouch down with a groan from the turning of bones, preparing a stance unlike a mage’s. He’s preparing to pounce, the action of a hunter who prepares to fire the final bullet at his weakened prey. There’s a distance of two meters, a distance that the unicorn’s legs could probably close in a flash.

My body prepares to meet his charge, my knees crouching down to prepare for collusion. I can only hope to clash at close range. My mind races with numerous scenarios as image after image of what a telekinesis user such as him could do to me. A small pebble could become a ruthless bullet and a piece of cloth, a hangman's noose.

I roughly shoved those thoughts aside. Any distraction on my part could easily become a far greater weapon for my opponent.

Thus, the only thing I can hope for is a range with I can smash my fists at his flesh. I can only fight him in my range, the range that my hands extend out, and take advantage of the senseless nature of his charge. His jaws lurch outward, showing incisors peerless in ripping apart flesh, preparing to sink those fangs into me. The moment his senses become occupied by the feel of reckless abandon… I’ll drive my knuckles into his ribs.

Before my mind registers what could happen, the consequences of failing, my ears hear a screech in the night.

“GET DOWN!”

My body ducks, the knees further descend without my mind’s consent. My hands let go of the sword and plummet to the ground. It takes half a breath before I realize what would happen.

The air bustles forth above my head with the roar of execution with a rain of rocks pounding against the mad unicorn’s body. To the unicorn whose mind was occupied by mad zeal, the rocks mercilessly sink in the mindless predator.

The barrage savagely, without care or concern, smashes its might into him. The raining projectiles increases in force, each growing more violent as the prior ones tear into his body. The uproar of the collision of flesh and earth groans with the cries of pain from his mouth. They start to howl louder than the gradually sharper shattering of his bones. His body, in just two seconds, becomes a landscape of devastation.

The unicorn bustles through, following the force of the rocks that pierced into his flesh, and collides down with a sickly crunch. The sword suspended in the claws of his magic falls with a clatter as the glow disappears.

The grey pony twitches slightly, his body finally registering the pain it was being subjected to. I try not to listen to his howls of agony but, sure enough, they start to flood the air. The thing is they’re so quiet they come off more as feeble groans. Apparently the impacts busted more than just his central body.

I rise up to take a look at my rescuer, mostly to thank whoever saved me.

A sword rips through the air like the casual tearing of cloth and strikes at the ground behind me. I just barely felt the edge cut through my face as it passed by. I turn my head back. The sword is deeply embedded into the ground, its blade digging thoroughly into the earth.

A little unconventional but I can live with it.

I turn back to see what my rescuer looks like.

After a thump, sharp twinge of pain in my throat and a sudden change of view later, I’m flat against the ground. I’m looking at my so-called rescuer before the moon. I really wish that the blade pressing at my neck wouldn’t dig so deep. They do tend to hurt.

She’s, I think it’s a she, a purple unicorn with golden hair that stretched as long as half way to her hooves, one of them still choking me. She fixes a cool stare at me. The first thing I notice besides her body and the blade inching closer into my neck is the sweat on her brows.

Her face is straining with her brows scrunched together. Her teeth are grinding against each other, screeching a tone of discord. Her face muscles are twitching a nervous dance, spasms shifting back and forth between the sides. Her throat is raking husky screams that tell more of her agony than words could. Even with all that, the most disturbing part of her is her eyes.

They were frigid. Eyes fixed in one position that don’t even flinch in the night air. An unnatural calm holds my attention. These eyes didn’t register the pain surrounding them. It’s as if they’re completely separate from the pony herself. I change my mind. Frigid doesn’t quite fit the feel of them. In fact, I feel nothing from them. Eyes that hold no joy, no pain and no emotion capture me.

The only signs telling me a mere machine isn’t staring at me are the flesh bearing down on me and the color that those eyes carry. Two hues of silver, darkened by the shadows of night, direct their stare at me.

I hold my breath. There has to be a reason she stopped her blade just short. I have to wait just the right amount of time. A weak moment, a second of hesitation, is all I can hope for now. I’ll try to reason with her the moment she relents.

The blade stays its position, fixed on the surface of my neck. I look at her body, her legs pinning my lower body still and her front hooves wringing my neck shut. Seconds lingers in the silence between us. The night air flutters her golden hair through the darkness, her strands obscuring her eyes now.

A grinding sound escapes her lips. It breaks the mutual silence between us. Her body starts to jerk and spasm, it’s not unlike a human suffering from an epileptic fit. Her hooves twitch and shake. A display of fury throbs at my throat but doesn’t direct its attention at it. The grinding stops, and after a few seconds of uneasy silence…

Something drips from her covered face. The unknown drops freely fall from her face and slowly flow down my cheeks. My face soon becomes quelled by the flow of droplets that fall without restraint. I take a careful glance at the liquid descending from the cloak of gold.

Blood?

Blood spills, brilliant colors splatter their petals down onto my face. I assume her blood has colors. It’s too dark to tell. Vivid flowers decorate the surface and replace the hue of black. The flow of blood, thick with life’s veins, sliding down my cheeks tells me that it can’t be tears. Tears don’t flow that easily. I finally realize what she’s been doing all this time.

She’s been biting her lips, the sign of restraint. Her teeth that should tear into flesh full with the blood of green now bear down on herself. Teeth made to grind and grit nature’s creatures of green are now dyed with her blood.

I can’t even see an emotionless monster before me, the sight I see is just too pitiful. I wouldn’t even believe such agony could exist if I didn’t see it myself. No one deserves to suffer, to endure this pain-!?

Silence, once again, takes hold of the space between us. She’s as still like a doll, her body keeping an unnatural stillness. Though the blade still stays at my neck and the force pressuring my held body parts retains its power, there seems to be no activity from her.

Finally, after a few seconds of constrained peace, a breeze pulls her hair away from her face revealing what is behind the golden curtain.

I still see the silver eyes staring at me. They’re peering into my eyes as mine are to hers. There’s a difference though, unlike the void of emptiness that bore into me, these eyes… have the light of concern shining through the glint of night. It’s as if she’s an entirely different pony.

A few moments of discomfort between us and she finally realizes the compromising positions we’re in. Her face seizes with embarrassment for a few seconds of respite and then she proceeds to bear down on me with that stare.

After a few seconds, her mouth starts.

“Why?”

I don’t understand the question so I eloquently reply.

“Hmmmm…?”

She stares at me in confusion.

“Why don’t you hate me?”

Now I’m the one who’s confused, my eyebrows arch and my lips stutter my response.

“Hm?”

She looks at me in worry, her eyes watering.

“I attacked you, hurt you and tried to kill you… Why don’t you hate me?”

Ah… a scene of someone crying appears in my mind. Her tears flow with a weight that I can’t comprehend. She’s crying for what, for whom? Her tears are reserved for a person other than me in this picture. I then return to the pony holding back her regret. There’s really only the obvious to say.

“You saved me, that’s enough a reason for me.”

She now looks at me in surprise. Her throat chokes back a gasp. It’s as if it’s her first time seeing something like this. She smiles a crocked smile, the corners of her lips twitching slightly. A rather bittersweet chuckle pass through her mouth and harshly cuts through the air.

“I almost kill you and you forgive me? This is the part where you punish me.”

My mouth moves in a way that I hope would convey a teasing smile full of good natured humor.

“Too bad.”

She finally manages to hold back her tears and returns my good natured gesture with a laugh.

“Hahahahahaha…”

She finally relents, the blade’s pressure letting up as well, and ascends to let me up. I finally get up, my body trying to get used to the lack of earth behind me. I quickly pick up my clothed sword, take a few practice swings at blank air and examine the condition of the two victims in the night. At the very least, they’re breathing, not in critical condition I’d assume. Someone will eventually find them. I mean they’re out on the streets! They’re like the town drunks at my town except I assume with less belching and more writhing.

I turn to my rescuer. She shrinks away, probably from leftover shame. A pause between us holds our minds. An awkward silence between us passes by. What do you say to someone who nearly tried to kill you and apologized right away?

I realize quickly that the footsteps of an uninvited guest start to intrude on this scene. The thumps of movement start to grow louder and louder against the packed earth as the intruder begin to inch closer.

The purple unicorn looks at me.

“You should go right about now.”

I hear the obvious logic in her words, I’m not a pony, the fact she hasn’t run away from my strange appearance is outlandish enough. Something crosses my mind though… Why was she here at this exact moment? I remember the conversation those two crooks had moments before I ambushed them.

“Her presence will only hamper our progress.”

“S-S-so what do you s-s-s-ugge-s-st?”

I gulp, recalling the sheer remorselessness of the next statement.

“That we do not allow her to hamper our progress.”

She’s out with criminals and villains like that crawling around? I can’t let her do that.

“No.”

She does a double take, her eyes flinch as surprise becomes her demeanor.

“Please, go now.”

The footsteps start to echo louder and louder as the intruder invades our privacy.

“There might be other assailants around. You’ll need someone to protect you.”

There are obvious reasons to join her side. She’s a pony which means she’ll probably be a citizen of this town. Judging from her projectile spell, she’s an accomplished mage which makes being attacked a less tiresome ordeal. She probably knows more about this world and can fill me in. None of those reasons come close to the one that prompts me to protect her.

The footsteps roar louder. I can hear them as if the intruder is right beside me. Why is she being so stubborn in refusing my assistance?

She sighs, looks at me and stares straight at me with these hauntingly beautiful silvers.

“You will move away from this scene, you will run to safety…”

She hesitates. A slight gasp holds her throat. The words in her mouth remain unsaid for a moment’s time.

“Please leave me alone…now.”

I blink my eyes as I sprint away from the two crippled bodies that littered the streets. The sound of my legs rushing through the streets is silent except to a choked sobbing that floods my ears.

I rush through the streets, my feet pounding into the earth. My legs carry me past buildings of equine origins. The beating of my heart stresses how much energy I’m putting into a flight without a clear destination. My footsteps thunder through the silence of the night. My feet pick up speed with every passing step.

I don’t know where I’m going at this point. All I know is that I should run away from that scene of breathing corpses. My mind moves at a speed just below the sprint of my legs.

My body freezes, as if by magic and feels a chill that surpasses fear. A premonition that tells of danger, it tells me that a foe beyond my capabilities lies beyond the path I run. I change directions, running through one of the alleys that resides beside two buildings. My breath turns ragged, it tells of my effort more than the sweat on my brows could-

Hm!? A sharp pain throbs at my head, the same ominous premonition. All the sudden, a cloaked pony is before me, I can’t see its face. The cloak obscures its body and the night helps to hide its features. There’s only ten meters before the two of us. I’ll reach him in two seconds.

I stare at it and its eyes stare me, a blue glow directs its gaze at me.

The violent crack of bones is the last imprint that my senses leave before darkness beyond the night takes me.

Mage and Knight 2

The Heroes we Are: Chapter 2: Mage and Knight: Morning of Interlude

Magic flowed through this room. As easily as air, magic exalted its breath in the workshop of wonders. The workshop was filled with an eerie quiet, as if it was merely the calm before the storm. The sound of mystic elixirs brewing hummed a tune in the silence. The crack of an ashen dawn hadn’t shown its light through the window quite yet.

Noble Colours kept on through with her slumber, sleeping through the hum of the chemicals. On the desk she laid there in a sprawled position, unaware of décor or conduct. It was as if she didn’t care where she slept as long as she had a solid surface to rest her head. The magician remained indifferent to the mannerisms her room had acquired over the years: the crinkle of wore parchment, the boiling of magical liquids and the crank and turn of various contraptions more magical than mundane in use and craft.

Despite this cacophony of tones assaulting her ears, her head remained still. She had gotten used to the sounds that lurked about her workshop for years. She kept on with her eyelids fixed, her nostrils shifting up and down for air and her mouth taking in air and letting out empty words. A husky feel in her throat buzzed through as she breathed. As if she was awake, her mouth slipped slightly into a serene smile. A sluggish magician in a lazy morning, nothing could ruin this idyllic scene.

The thunderous roar of the alarm on her desk pounded down like hammers against an anvil.

A slight acknowledgement of the nagging noise came as her smile turned into a grimace. Her eyelids still remained shut. She moved her hooves, a crick of activity echoing through the workshop, and tried to remember where she had put the infernal contraption. Finally her hooves found the blaring device before her brain could.

Without rhythm, without beat, she started pounding at the enemy of sleep. A brazen force moved her hooves and they started to thrash at the alarm. Signs of impact started to show with each passing hit, the imprint of her hooves showing the extent of her fury. Finally, when it became abundantly clear that her normal wrath wasn’t going to cut it, she cracked one eyelid open.

The sheen of magic enveloped her right hoof and with it, the hoof of destruction mercilessly smashed through the alarm. The crack of gears being smashed apart thundered through the room. The gears and parts shot across the workshop. A clattering sound of the gears landing with a thud became the last melody that the alarm would ever sing again.

A weary groan escaped her lips. She was already awakened up by the raucous ringing of the alarm now. She decided to lift her body off her desk. As her torso moaned a mild discomfort, she considered what her plans for the day would be.

The NMM would probably have a new assignment for her to complete. She had to wake up soon and arrive at the headquarters in a few hours.

The magician of the workshop, with a clearer head than before, opened her eyes to the place she called home for years now. She smacked herself in the head to further snap her head into focus. The aroma of tea lingered in her tongue. The lingering scent of lilies roamed free in her thoughts. The formulas were mulled over in her mind. The incident last night…

The events under the moon were put under the lens of remembrance’s gaze.

A creature darker than the night itself rushed at her, a beast whose skin was as pitch-black as oblivion itself. Its white eyes peered at her with a mindless gaze, engraving its glare into her memory. Using her mystic eyes, she stopped the charge of the beast. It didn’t completely stop the charge of course. The creature was still in motion when she used them. With the crash and crunch of bones and flesh against earth, the beast stopped its mad rush.

Examination of species was still necessary to clarify which habitation it came from. After subjugating the subject, she examined the creature in great detail. With hooves skilled in the examination of creatures of unknown and otherworldly potential, she scanned the body for any clues to its identify.

Nothing, nothing pertaining to any pre-existing species was found from thorough examination. She sighed. It simply meant giving it to the NMM for further research and experimentation. Admittedly it wasn’t so bad, a little discomfort here and a little prodding there. Still, it was a long ordeal and no one loves being exposed to every eye in sight.

She carefully crossed the streets of Canterlot. She had another job to deal with, her original purpose which she forgot for a second. After a while of walking through the darkness of Canterlot, she found two thugs on the street. The moonlight revealed them to be unconscious and badly injured. The brown unicorn was twitching and gasped for whatever air he could get. The grey unicorn was convulsing and moaned a lifeless scream.

She called the others and ordered the capture of the creature and the two thugs, lifting them with magic. With that, they carried them off to the ‘underworld’ of Canterlot. The Noble Magic Ministry, a den of magicians and witches alike all devoted to the words of the Colours family. A place of heresy with conjurers and phantasms alike, all committed to the advancement of magic and the examination of fantasies.

It was a place of infinite discoveries and infinite questions to match the zeal for knowledge. Her brows furrowed with regret. She threw that creature into a den of zealous magicians, thirsty for more of the mystical and mysterious nature of unknown beasts. She shuddered. It’s said that the tireless fervor of knowledge outlast thousands of years with some of its current magicians. Some magicians there are said to have forsaken their original bodies to carry out the pursuit of greater truth and discovery.

Noble sighed. The memories of last night were pushed aside for more pushing matters. She had to leave for work soon.

She decided to leave after applying the right cosmetics. With a weary body, she crawled straight to the washroom she installed a few years ago. She barely used the thing for more indelicate matters. A shower once a day, dapping of blush and curling of eyelashes were what she used the washroom for the most part. It was a rather lavish expense on her part. Yet, as she came out of the washroom, an exotic beauty came out, unspoiled by sleep or weariness. It almost made the waste of bits worth it to allow such a blossoming lily come out.

She walked across the workshop to her wardrobe, clothes do make the lady and these clothes will make her the best lady. Magic glowed its ethereal touch onto the cloaks and robes that made their company in the wardrobe. Finally the hands of magic pulled out a cloak.

A luxurious cloak of ancient design, sanguineous red dyed the salamander skin scarlet. That cloak lay suspended in the air of the workshop. The shine of golden patterns adorned the majestic ensemble through the edges. The insignia of the scarlet lily was laid on the center of the cloak, outlined by the gold features.

She wore the cloak with pride in her heart and strength in her soul, a refined flower in the magician’s workshop. As she fitted the blood dyed cloak on her, she picked out a flower out of the vase on her desk, the one decorated with scarlet lilies. She picked out one out of the grandiose vase. She placed the lily onto her mane, a red flower blossoming on a golden landscape.

After the fitting of the cloak, she fastened the cloak with her chain, petal patterns linking the two red flowers in place. Satisfied with her appearance, she went out.

The crack of a new dawn gave her a cordial greeting, her face coated in a new day’s light. She trotted across the stone laden streets. A wave of faces greeted her as she carried onward to the headquarters. But they weren’t those of greeting or acknowledgement.

Stallions and mares were charmed by the otherworldly beauty. A mare whose allure was paralleled by only gods was the sight their eyes were fixated on. This was not some perverse attraction, only a creature of unequalled grace could attract the sight of every eye in sight without fail.

Her footsteps echoed through the streets as if her presence captured even the air around her. They carried her to the construction site that had been worked on for months now. A theatre was apparently being built here. She graced her eyes to the toil of the burly stallions working on the stage.

The pieces of fresh wood were suspended by magic alone, the unicorns dutifully doing their job. The pegasi soaring about were putting the finishing touches on the theatre’s roof. The earth ponies were sweating through the carrying of more wooden planks. It seemed like a united front on the ponies’ part.

She waved a genial hoof to the workers, even giving a little air kiss for their efforts. A gesture that told more of her personality than the lavish cloak fluttering gently in the dawn’s wind would tell.

The construction workers’ hearts were captured by the mere acknowledge of the regal beauty. Some of the unicorns dropped their heavy wooden planks onto the heads of still gobsmacked earth ponies. Some pegasi stopped fluttering in the air and dropped down. The shock dropping the pegasi’ mouths and allowing them to eat dirt as they landed head first.

She chuckled a bit at the show of folly, an amusing bunch they were. She grinned at them with her dazzling pearly whites. The majority of them fainted from it, their infatuation-filled skulls crashing down on the earth. Some of them managed to say an eloquent ‘uh?’ as their mouths laid open for the world to see.

She turned around and curled her mouth upward, an unseen smile. She cantered along the stone-paved streets. She went about a few meters when she heard a familiar sound. Whistles, a symphony of lewd infatuation ringed through the street. Sometimes some of the construction workers would even follow her at times. She knew the construction workers did it out of playful affection. She didn’t care. She welcomed this more than the beauty captured eyes that followed her everything she went.

Her hooves carried her forward, the headquarters expanding as she got closer. She then took a scenic route. She still felt some eyes looking at her. She spotted an alleyway and decided to take the unorthodox path. She walked into the belly of Canterlot, the alleys, and let the shadows take her in.

The stench of rotten apples, long forgotten by neglectful ponies, filled her lungs. The sight of garbage bags, the seams being gnawed away by waste’s corroding taste, became her world. The silence of the alleys would tell exactly how many people walked through here. The scraps of crates, paper cups filled with black sludge and ooze that resided on the ground told her how decrepit these streets truly were.

She tried to ignore the unpleasantness of this place. A silent mocking curse passed through her mind. How fallacious to push away the ugliness of this when she was about to do worse. Her footsteps stopped short and with that, the sounds of footsteps long overlapping with hers echoed long and clear through these desolated streets.

She smiled with just a stretch of her lips extending. She would give them a moment of respite before they spoke. She turned around. Her eyes saw two unicorns draped in pitch-black cloaks with deep blue trims on their edges, the kind of cloaks unsuitable for summer mornings.

The same fabrics found on the magicians they put in jail last night. She narrowed her eyes. The faces and color of their coats were obscured by the alley’s shadows. The one on the left was of a stockier build, his cloak barely fitting him. The other one on the right was lankier, his cloak lightly fluttering through the alley. She cleared her throat to let them speak their demands.

The stockier built unicorn stepped forward, a tiny gesture that took the tone of this confrontation.

“You put our agents in jail. We would like to respectfully ask you to let them go.”

Noble’s face remained passive. She knew this conversation would start like this. She did silently laugh a little at how transparent these ponies were. Depending on how she reacts to this might decide if this turns violent. With that in mind, she kept her silence.

The unicorns remained adamant in their demands, staring her down. The unicorn that spoke continues onward.

“We are working a glorious cause. The more you resist it, the more you resist the path to true salvation.”

Noble started to feel an annoyance towards these loose lips. Her hooves remained fixed on the ground, to stop her from smashing their mouths. It took all she had to keep herself from ruining her chances at more information.

“Why do you not understand the glory of our dream? The gravity of our salvation outweighs the needs of the royalty. Why do you not understand that?”

Noble bit her lips, her teeth digging into her flesh. Whatever words would come out of her mouth now would only contain mocking spite. Whether she could keep her silence would decide how this would end.

“Join us, Noble Colours, in our dreams of saving the world.”

Noble took her silence far enough, a small chuckle escaped her lips. The laugh came out slowly but surely bursting out of her lungs. She took great pleasure at the looks of her confused confronters. Jeering words spat out of her lips like acid corroding flesh.

“Glorious? Salvation? Please. The fact that you feel the need to skulk in the shadows means you’re ashamed to show off your true colors. You’re not saviors. You’re cowards and bullies gathering under a banner of self-proclaimed salvation.”

That set them off, she thought. She couldn’t see their faces but the feral snarls coming from their capes were a fair clue to assume agitation. They started to crouch down their legs, ready to strike. A sneering growl escaped those obscured lips. She narrowed her eyes, the prelude to a fight.

The well-built unicorn on the left projected a glow, its horn brandishing intent to kill. Noble knew that the unicorn was enchanting its hooves to smash straight through flesh. The thinner unicorn on the right unleashed its light, the respite before a fight. A blinding light shined and a sword materialized. A simple tool perfect for cleaving limbs off faced the scarlet magician.

Noble knew the conduct of violence far too much. She knew the conduct of mages and magic wielders far too well. Knowledge of tactics, habits and rules of magi were merely some of the tools she needed to subjugate them. She, who inherited the name ‘Heretic Hunter’, was a terror who could purge all mages.

This fight… wouldn’t require any of that expertise at all. She didn’t need to face them as a magus. Simply forcing them down was good enough for these hoodlums. The stale alley air was suffocating. The air filled with the tense nature of anticipation. She let one breath of air into her lungs to signal the start of the brawl of spell casters.

The sword wielding unicorn rushed first, the cleaver upraised to tear her head off. A furious wind screeched as the violent blade swung through.

Too easy, Noble thought with a clear head. She easily side-stepped the sword and smashed her hooves against the side of the blade. The cold steel shattered far too easily, the particles lingering in the stagnant alley wind.

The now weaponless unicorn gaped in surprise. Noble took note of that. Apparently, they didn’t research all of her abilities. This would make it much easier for her then. The thinner unicorn took a few steps back, the sign of retreat.

The muscular unicorn on the left charged forth, a ferocious wind lunged at Noble. A strong hoof that could destroy flesh was thrown with merciless precision, aiming to obliterate Noble’s heart.

Noble read the charge with perfect clarity and proceeded accordingly. Her horn shined a brighter light in the alley. Magic reinforced her hooves in a spell that would match the rushing hoof coming at her. She punched at the charging menace, preparing to test her mettle at the opposing hoof.

Two hooves rushed through the air, the moment before victory or defeat for both of them. The collision of flesh against flesh smashing at each other echoed a resounding crack in the desolated alley.

However…

“-Herk!?”

The victor remained standing, the loser crumpled to the ground. The pain of having the bones in his hooves shattered compelled the downed unicorn to howl in agony. His ally bore witness to this display of pain and began to retreat a few steps even further, poised for an uncertain retreat.

Noble stared at the two unicorns in silence. Two thugs barely prepped in a fight of magic going up against her? It was a foolish idea with a predictable ending.

She started to leave, she had nothing left to spare for these two. Her footsteps resounded through the empty alley. She left behind the unicorn still mulling his poor life choices and the one retreating-

She went about three meters before a sword swished past her cheek.

She turned her head sharply, only to nearly meet a sword straight at her. She twisted her head away from the blade, only letting the blade draw a smidge of blood from her face.

Her eyes diverted to the unicorn shooting these edged arrows. The gaunt unicorn she thought had retreated had simply retreated to a magic contest of long range. Out of thin air they were conjured, blades of average craft. These blades, aiming at her head, were shot with a certain precision unlike the unicorn’s prior timid actions. They sliced through the air and bustled through with a violent force.

One by one, the arrows darted through, launching at Noble to pierce her flesh. She knew these attacks were no longer the rash actions of a thug. These were the calculated actions of a magus. Pragmatic and efficient were the use of these arrows. To the grasp of a magus, magic becomes a child’s toy. A magus is one with power to mold and craft weapons and tools made to further one’s goal.

Noble knew it was the time to unleash her true skill as a magus. Against this rain of blades, she emptied her mind of all distraction. Molding her mind into a state of focus, she began an incantation to accelerate her ritual. With a clear head, Noble chanted a spell to protect her from the bolts launched to tear through her skin.

“Ignis!” Noble called out. The lorica echoed. She felt the weaving of magic surging through the outer part of her salamander skin cloak. The rise of temperature tingled out the air. The flames came out young at first. They cried with a timid bawl before roaring with a vicious wrath. The flames trailed through her cloak with a raging fury. They emanated a ferocious inferno able to melt any metal that bore its edge at Noble.

As the blades came in contact with the raging flames, they dropped like flies. As they fell, only a slightly melted surface coated their edges. The irritating odor of melted steel filled the stale air. This scene, like the monotony of everyday life, repeated for a long time. Only when the shower of swords stopped, did Noble release the unwavering flames from sight.

Noble arched her eyebrows. This pause wasn’t the kind that invited a foolish offense. She noted the huffing of the lanky unicorn, his body lagging up and down in exhaustion. He was spent in terms of magic energy, a magical gem exhausted of stored energy. Noble darted her eyes to the downed unicorn still clenching his broken hoof. She finally got them.

Noble walked closer, her hooves advancing towards them. Her eyes narrowing the further she stepped forward. When she finally came close to the downed unicorn, her eyes peered into the two, as if peering into the ugliness of their hearts.

“You tell your organization that I’ll be hunting them down to the ends of Equis. That, no matter what atrocity they commit, the eyes of the Heretic Hunter will always follow onto them. I will be waiting at the end to serve as judge, jury and executioner to them… understand?”

A gulp and nod from the both of them gave the only approval Noble needed. She turned away from the two thugs. Her footsteps were the only sound the alleys cared to echo. As she walked closer to the streets, the rays of a morning’s sun bathed her in the warmth that the alley would never carry.

Noble wasn’t naïve, she knew that she had let two agents of an evil organization go. She knew she could have arrested them. She also knew that the other agents would respond in kind by wrecking havoc on the townspeople, prompting the release of those earlier and recently incarcerated. It was better to keep a lower profile of prisoners. It wouldn’t matter how well-disciplined the organization was, there were always a few bad apples in the orchard.

There was also the matter of their injuries, let them report their scuffle and her shown abilities. Let the report lure the others into a false sense of security. She welcomed the possibility they would attack her, thinking that the injuries she caused were the full extent of her magic. An unfortunate realization awaits all foolish enough to face her.

Lastly, her threat against the organization gave them a name to concentrate their rage and frustration. Let them oppose her, face her and understand defeat by her. She should be the only target they need to go after.

A smile crossed her face. The magician crossed the streets with a sense of a job well-done in her heart. Finally her hooves took her to the NMM headquarters. The place she considered kind of like a second home. The rustic feel that emanated from the building, the aged wooden exterior for all eyes to behold, the grainy touch of the door when you opened your eyes to a new world inside. All that and the piney scent she whiffed from afar reminded her that this was a home away from home for years now.

The rough feel of the door became a touch she’d been accustomed to for years now. The first time she opened the door, the prick of unfamiliar touch had bitten her. Now the feel of the door became one of the reminders that told her she was back to the same place she’d been to for years.

The door swung open, she opened her eyes to the same sights she’d seen yesterday morning. The same old countertop for serving drinks to any patrons who came by. The same black leather chairs and sofa for clients to get comfortable on top of the red carpet draped on the floor. The same bright light that tried to give warmth to the room, but instead added to the air of a cultured room shined at her.

Even the same dragon behind the bar counter was wiping the countertop, the same dragon whose presence has remained a fixation around here. A dragon with bloody crimson scales, stained by past experiences, and fangs and claws that told too much of the life he led before today. Now his claws were wiping the stains of yesterday with a simple cloth. He heard the door open and turned his weary eyes to the sight of Noble. An aged smile creased his face.

“Good morning, milady,” he said with a genial humility. Noble raised his head high to meet the dragon’s smile. It wasn’t that hard to begin with, this dragon was woefully under the average height of an average dragon. A runt of his species, he was only an underestimated 7 ft 11 inches. His head couldn’t even reach three quarters to the ceiling. His wrinkled wings were shrunken from a long life and probably wouldn’t even reach the ceiling if he spread them out. What he lacked in stature, he more than made up for in age.

“Good morning to you as well, Firebrew,” Noble returned the greeting with a courteous reply. This old dragon had been in her life even before she was born. Firebrew was like an uncle to her, always ready to impart words of wisdom to her. He was honestly the only adult of her current age that Noble let into her life. Even then, the relationship wasn’t of a special nature of sorts. He was bound to the Colours family. The words he gave her were no different from the ones he would give to another family member. A cold feeling breezed through Noble’s thoughts. It’s better this way.

“How are the prisoners?” Noble inquired. The ones she and the rest had captured last night.

Firebrew looked her straight in the eyes, “The two thugs are reflecting their actions in a cell as we speak and as for the creature last night…” He looked rather cross with Noble. Noble knew that face. The face he gave when he was about to scold her. “Now, Noble, I’ve always supported your justice but weren’t you a little rough with him?”

Noble gave Firebrew a withering glance. “That’s none of your business.”

Firebrew stood his ground. “He deserved basic kindness.”

Noble said, “You think I didn’t give him that?”

Firebrew arched his scaly brow. “Perhaps it must’ve crashed down the ground like his body did,” he said with a straight face.

Noble stood there with a look of feigned indignation. This was a regular occurrence when she was scolded by Firebrew. He would reprimand her, she would tease him and he would say something so straight-laced that she had nothing to say to that. “Whose side are you on? Where’s the unwavering loyalty?”

Firebrew stood up straight. “I own my loyalty to one pony of the Colours family, and that pony is not you.”

Noble sighed. She honestly could say nothing to such a serious statement. Any teasing remarks out her mouth now would strain the relationship. This wasn’t the first time he reprimanded her. All she could do now is apologize and make reparations. “I’m sorry, Firebrew. I guess I forgot myself then.”

Firebrew relaxed his stern look and gave a humble bow, “As long as it doesn’t happen again, milady.”

A regretful sentiment brushed Noble’s thoughts. “I can’t make any promises.”

Firebrew brushed that comment aside, “There is always merit in trying, milady.”

Noble smiled, a bitter expression painted her face with the color of melancholy. “Don’t I know that…” she mumbled to no one in particular.

Firebrew kept his silence. He knew far too much about the emotion behind those seemingly careless words. He knew too much of her life to mistaken such sentiments for anything less. He knew better than to disrupt her moment of contemplation. Noble stared into space for a while, long enough for Firebrew to go on finishing the last few polishes of the countertop. After a while, Noble snapped her head to focus and turned her attention at Firebrew once again.

“Any new requests?” she asked with a professional tone.

“Not at the moment, milady,” Firebrew answered.

“Have you heard from Gleamed Jewel?” Noble pressed on.

“I haven’t heard from the Jewel family yet, milady,” Firebrew continued to answer.

Noble muttered a silent curse through her mind. It had been five days since she asked for a favor from the Jewel family and, still, they haven’t opened their doors or hearts to her. Then again, she resigned herself to the fact that the nobility had superficial relations between each other. A darkly humorous irony passed through her mind, the great Canterlot nobility couldn’t even spare the compassion for one favor.

“Thank you, Firebrew, now if you’ll excuse me…” Noble headed for the inner door. The door in front of her, on the opposite side of the outer door, opened to a corridor that the usual client wouldn’t have the authority to enter. She inched closer to the door with every groan of the floor. She stopped just short of the door.

“Firebrew, it would be in your best interests to disregard any voices you hear soon,” Noble suggested to him in a commanding tone.

Firebrew tilled his head and scratched his worn ears, “I’m sorry, milady, would you kindly repeat that? My age has apparently told my ears the news early,” he said in such an innocuous tone.

Noble smiled. Firebrew was always like this. She could only hope that he would never change in the future. As she started to open the door with her magic, she turned to him. “I’ll give him your regards as well.”

“Who exactly, milady?” Firebrew called out mildly with a smile that betrayed his intentions. Noble had to hand it to him. He always knew how to follow through, a true follower to the end.

The door flung out with an abrupt breeze, her magical grip opening the door. The sudden motion allowed the air to circulate in this stuffy room. Noble walked past the door, only a creak whining in the air as the door slowly closed. Noble continued onward.

She opened herself to a dimmed hallway. She took a few steps before revealing herself to the light of the corridor. The corridor led left to the upstairs and right down the dungeon. Wooden doors with a polished sheen surrounded Noble. A shining light coated the corridor, the light reflecting off the polish of the wooden doors. A name and a department title were engraved into the walls beside the doors. As she walked right, towards the dungeon, she noted the various departments passing her eyes: Tempest Talon – Weather Manipulation, Spook Speak – Soul Magic, Autem Mort – Miracle Invocation, Messiah Seer – Divine Thaumaturgy.

As she walked towards the stairs leading to the dungeon, the creak of a slightly opened door groaned across the corridor. Noble frowned slightly. Damn it, Messiah, why can’t you learn to close a door properly. Noble walked past the door opened by just a crack and continued downstairs.

The groan of her footsteps against the wood echoed through the dungeon as she descended down the stairs. She finally reached the stone floor of the dungeon. The same feeling she had, every time she came down here, encroached her, the initial chilling touch of the stone as it slowly warmed with every step of her hooves.

The glow of candles brightened the dungeon, greeting her eyes to the sight of five jail cells. Noble walked past them, iron bars separated her from those captured. She chuckled. They were reinforced with multi-layered magical enchantments able to weather brutal punishment, but they were iron bars nevertheless.

She first visited the two ruffians from last night. They occupied the second cell from the left. She stopped short of their cell and examined their condition. The brown one was still sporting a swollen bruise on his face, the purple spot overlapping with the natural brown of his coat. The grey one was still asleep, a drought of calm clouded over him.

Her expression darkened. The fact that villains, like these, still existed irritated her. She had lived a few years now, years devoted to hunting mages of unfathomable terror, beasts that forced fear into weak hearts and demons whose list of cruel deeds stretched past their life spans. Not once, in these years stained in blood and tragedy, did Noble resign herself to evil nor turn jaded at its existence.

Noble’s purple coat bristled violently. Noble took note of that. Perhaps this was an omen, she thought. She stopped examining the two agents and started for the creature from last night. The very end of the dungeon, where the last jail cell was, was where she found him laying there.

She crept closer at the bars and waited for his awakening, her eyes lingering at the creature’s unconscious demeanor. His eyes were closed and it was as if he was hugging himself for warmth. He looked so peaceful, the kind of experience you would only get from an out-of-body experience.

Noble wondered what he was thinking in that head of his. From the expression only, Noble guessed he was thinking about halcyon days. Nevertheless, she waited, the day growing wearier with the dripping of wax from the suspended candles keeping light. The crack and cackle of soft embers with the ongoing tap of fresh wax hitting stone reminded Noble of the time she spent down here.

A groan came first. A twinge of consciousness moved the black being on the other side of the bars. His movements were accompanied by the rattle of the chains. Noble watched as the creature sluggishly opened his white eyes, darted them all around the cell, and finally fixed their gaze at her. They stared at each other for quite a while until she spoke.

“I am Princess Noble vi Colours and I would like to ask… what ARE you?”