Winterspellby KarmaPoliceChaptersPrologueThe Fall of Storm's BreakThe King's CouncilThe New MissionThe MarchThe Secret MeetingPrologue“It’s time, Milord.” The unwelcome intrusion woke Lord Commander Gale from his shallow sleep. He sat up sharply, waving off the soldier who had the unenviable task of waking him. He moved briskly, donning his armor and inspecting his warfeathers for appropriate sharpness. Finding them satisfactory, he stepped outside. The cold air bit into his face as he took in the white expanse before him. Soldiers moved around, preparing for a coming battle. Large cumulonimbus were being amassed- and with them, he would lay waste to Storm's Break, a major earth tribe bastion. If, He thought. The parlay does not go according to plan. Those he passed bowed low to him and he would typically acknowledge them with a nod- but on this morning his mind was preoccupied. Their fighting strength was diminishing, not through battle losses, but through a much more vicious killer- starvation. Lack of food was bleeding his fighters dry. The earth tribe, on the other hand, was well fed and well-ready for a conflict. The larders of Storm's Break were laden with grains and fruits in cold-storage. Enough to supply an army to siege the magical stronghold on Mount Shine, even. Enough perhaps to secure his family's superiority for all time. Gale reached the edge of the cloud and simply stepped off of it. He unfurled his wingspan, keeping things slow for his lack of cold-weather gear. The windchill was known to cost foolhardy fliers their ears, and doctors were in short supply. The massive walls and towers of Storm's Break loomed in the distance, the massive pyres in the towers lighting them for all to see, a bright contrast to the bleak horizon beyond. He landed near the clearing designated for the meeting. His personal lieutenant was there to greet him. Misty was an accomplished fighter in her own right, although her ribs would be prominent if she were to remove her armor, much the same as the rest of his fighting force. Sharp warfeathers glistened among her tawny plumage, made dull from a poor diet of scrub grass. “Are they here, yet?” He asked, the strain in his voice painfully audible, even to him. “They’re waiting. They’ve fulfilled the terms of the parlay, too. I’ve had our detachment stand off.” Gale sighed. “Walk with me. I’ll value your council.” The pair made their way towards the opening in the brush, finding the area lit well enough by perimeter torches. Two of his prospective enemy stood there, in their characteristic heavy iron armor. Their back shoes each had three sharp iron spikes on their bottoms. One of them removed his helmet to step forward. He bore a ragged scar across his right cheek- and his right eye was pale and sightless. Gale stepped towards him, standing back at a respectful distance. “Chief Rockjaw. I cordially thank you for agreeing to the terms of the meeting, and-” Rockjaw scoffed at his assumed polite demeanor and shattered Gale’s barrier of personal space. He strode to within hoof’s reach of Gale and stared him in the eyes, the breath roiling from his nostrils visible in the brisk air. “Enough with your useless words. Say your terms. The morning is cold and I should like a good laugh.” Gale sighed. He wasn’t off to a great start. “Very well. You stand in face of a superior fighting force. You are commanded to lay down your arms and open Storm's Break to us. We will take half of your food stocks, half of your weapons, and half of your gold. We will conscript one-quarter of your fighting stallions to our cause, and a further one quarter of your growers. You will then allow free acquisition of materials from your greatwoods, and in return I will leave Storm's Break intact under the protection of a detachment of my warriors. Do you agree?” Gale knew what the answer was even before Rockjaw roughly spit in the dirt, his remaining good eye nearly glowing with intensity. He howled at Gale with unbridled rage- “You dare to presume that you can take your starving group of cloud-jumpers to my castle gates and make demands? I should like to see you try to take anything from us, Gale! For every pegasus that lands inside my walls, I will add a new feather to my chamber tapestry. Starting, perhaps, with yours.” Rockjaw strode forward aggressively. Misty smoothly stepped forward and extended her wing between Gale and the angry warlord currently staring him down, displaying her razor-sharp blades. "Remember the agreement, Chief. If you take another step, it will be your last." Rockjaw's lieutenant stepped forward but he was roughly waved back. Rockjaw eyed the both of them down with murderous intention. "You have one last chance to accept my terms." Gale spoke in an icy tone. Rockjaw growled, a low, threatening rumble that Gale was not afraid to admit unnerved him. "Enter my lands and try your luck, fool. I will see you on the battlefield." Gale nodded. “I had considered the possibility of you saying that. I regret to promise you that your family line will end tonight. This meeting is over.” He and Misty bowed slightly before taking a slight running start and alighting from the clearing, leaving the pair of earth warriors to stomp the ground and head back to their fortress. Misty and he flew silently, slicing through the cold air. Their siege cell loomed above, casting a dark shadow on the already-dark ground. The towering cumulonimbus were black with energy, sharp blue bolts bursting from their puffy formations. He hoped it would be enough. They landed in front of the command room. Another officer was there to meet them. Lieutenant Rainband could tell from their faces that their encounter with the enemy had not gone as ideally as it could have. “We are prepared to move into position, Lord. At your command, Storm's Break will be ours by next nightfall.” Gale sighed. “And the soldiers. Do they have the energy for this siege?” Rainband paused for a moment. “Lord, if I may speak frankly, we have enough left in us for another fight. And we are determined. Should we fail here, we may not have what it takes for another conflict, at least not for some time. And by then we will be even weaker. We are driven by our loyalty to you, but we are equally driven to crack that castle open like a nut and take her bounty for ourselves.” Gale nodded. “Then make it so. Order the cumulus into position.” Rainband bowed low, and flew off. Orders went through the chains of command, and soon dozens of his warriors were aloft, moving the clouds into position. The dark shadows they cast cut a swathe through the greatwoods. The massive forest was perhaps the greatest asset Storm's Break had to offer. The towering oaks stretched skyward, some of them in excess of one hundred and fifty feet, and twelve feet in diameter. The timber he could harvest there could build him a city, or a fleet. If I had the stallion-power to do it. He mused. He watched with his dark eyes as the towering clouds finally arrived in position over the castle. Misty landed beside him. “All elements are ready, Lord." Gale sighed. “At my signal, unleash Tartarus on them.” Misty bowed and flew off. Gale waited a few more minutes, contemplating the endless conflicts and the family he had left behind. Finally, he turned around. He nodded to the archer standing at the ready, who lit his arrow in a brazier and let it fly. At once, the massive cumulonimbus unleashed their energy onto the castle. With every drumbeat-synchronized buck from the legion of Cloudkickers, a brilliant bolt of lightning flew forth. These clouds had been seeded above the great plains and had been artificially grown to levels of energy far surpassing any that would occur in nature. They had been transported here over the past month, and their transport required an army in it's own right. The earth tribe had learned from previous engagements. They had outfitted the towers with lightning rods. He watched as the tops of the castle’s battlements attracted lightning, in awe at the sort of beauty of it. The dry lightning could be seen for many leagues. A testament to his army's strength, Gale thought with pride. But even their lightning rods could not hold off the full strength of the barrage. As he watched, an orange glow began shining off the battlements- he knew the wooden structures within had taken flame. The Cumulonimbus finally ran dry, and the barrage stopped. He knew Rockjaw would have measures in place to fight fire, but the orange glow gave way to visible flames as the buildings within were consumed. Many of Rockjaw's warriors may have died, but there were doubtless many more- enough to pose a real threat. There was only one thing left to do. Gale ran off his cloudy perch, streaking towards the burning castle at top speed. He felt barely encumbered by his light armor and warfeathers, and the adrenaline flowing made his heart beat in his ears like timpani. As he got closer, he could see his warriors streaming down towards the castle too, and the sounds of screaming and combat penetrated the rushing air to reach his ears. The wooden structures were well aflame, but the central structures were all of heavy cobblestone, and out from them poured ironclad earth warriors in worrying quantities. The fighting was everywhere, and it was fast paced and vicious. His warriors were not anywhere near as ferocious as he had seen them to be in past raids, nor as fast. For seemingly every time they tried to attack from above, an earth warrior, despite his heavy iron armor, was able to snatch them and wrestle them to ground. Gale sighted one of them, a hugely muscled stallion with scored armor from many engagements, streaked in red. His helmet was not starkly iron, as was standard- it bore a multicolored plumage. A war trophy composed of pegasus feathers. Gale shot towards him. The enemy noticed him almost immediately, years of training no doubt yielding him quick instincts and a gaze ever-skyward. He ran, his iron shoes pounding the ground. Gale gritted his teeth against the speed he was reaching, at the last second shifting into a standard dive-attack- back legs first. The earth warrior dove out of the way, leaving Gale to slam into the ground, elegantly transferring his momentum into a roll. He came up ready to fight and was surprised with the speed that the enemy had reached him with. He lashed out with his wing, but his warfeathers failed to find a chink in the warriors armor. He grunted as he dodged out of the way to avoid being impaled by a buck from the warrior’s iron-spiked shoes. He shot skyward again, attempting to regroup and strike from a more strategic angle. But just as fast, a weight around his neck jerked him back to ground. Instantly, the chaos of the battle was drowned out by a hellish tinnitus, and Gale panicked as is vision left him . As he fought for breath, he regained blurred vision enough to see that another earth warrior had downed him with a lasso and the one with the feathered helmet was moving in for the kill. Gale slashed the rope with his warfeathers, gasping for air as the slipknot around his neck was released. He scarcely managed to roll out of the way as the big warrior stomped down, shattering the paving stone where Gale’s head used to be. Gale bucked out, striking his enemy in the breastplate and staggering him back, allowing enough time to scramble to his hooves. The big warrior howled a battle cry and charged. Just as he pivoted to deliver a death-dealing buck, Gale shot up and struck down in one fluent motion. It had the exact effect he had hoped for- the warrior slammed down on his belly, his legs sprawled out. Gale landed on his back hard, not giving him any time to recover, and slashed the exposed back of the neck with his wing. Bits of the earth warrior’s black mane joined the red on the ground as Gale shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears, not pausing before charging back into the din, sighting a new opponent. The Fall of Storm's BreakThe last remnants of smoke roiled off the collapsed pile of blackened timbers where a longhall used to be. Gale watched it as it drifted up, being suddenly sucked away in an eddy of wind once it was higher than the castle wall. The fighting had been treacherous, and now that the losses were sinking in, he began to wonder if it had all been worth it. But he quickly shoved aside those thoughts. His Lord father taught him that a good commander never second-guesses himself. Perhaps he was right- Gale looked around and reminded himself that Storm’s Break was now his. His soldiers milled about, taking stock of their losses. And their plunders. Scribes scribbled down information as carts with bushels of wheat, barrels of apples, and hay bales were wheeled into the center courtyard, being placed in a semi-organized heap. Too much to be taken by chariot, he mused. He could conscript some of the earth pony prisoners to carry the rest back through the mountain pass to the plains that Cloudwatch sat above. I don’t envy them. He thought as he watched the carts roll through the large stone-arch main door of the castle. Now, some of them were laden with glistening gold bars. He could use them to trade with some of the outlanders for more food and steel. The families they left behind at Cloudwatch would be well-fed for many moons, now. With the earth pony growers they had taken prisoner, they could begin to grow sustainable crops. But the losses…. He regarded the ground, where red patches and spots adorned the grey paving stones. Yes, the losses had been tremendous, for both sides. He was down over half of his best soldiers, either wounded or dead. Many of the earth tribe, too. He lowered his eyes. Gale had kept his word- Rockjaw and his sons were among them. Gale coughed as he inhaled at the wrong time and sucked in a cloud of acrid smoke. With a sudden wave of revulsion he imagined what other materials besides wood might be mixed in with that smoke. A voice shook him from his stupor. “Five thousand wheat bushels. Fifteen-hundred hay bales. Five hundred barrels of apples. Another Five hundred barrels of whiskey. Seventy barrels of sterile water. Three thousand pure gold bars. We haven’t finished counting the weapons. Two hundred earth ponies dead. One hundred and five more wounded. They’re rooting out the peasants from the catacombs now.” Gale closed his eyes and grimaced. Misty had an uncanny ability to remember these numbers, and he knew very well what statistics she would be telling him next. “One hundred and thirty of ours dead. Another sixty wounded, half seriously. We have one hundred and twenty able-bodied fighters left. I’ve already sent a messenger back to Cloudwatch with everything I just told you, Lord.” Gale opened his eyes to stare up at the towering castle. Under different circumstances he would have admired the architecture… “Was it worth it?” Gale looked to Misty. She favored her right foreleg heavily, and her neck bore a nasty gash. “Get that taken care of.” Gale grunted. “And, yes. It was worth it. Think of what would have become of us if we hadn’t struck them? We would have lasted maybe a month before we wasted away too much to fight. And then what? If they hadn’t killed us then, then the Unicorns would have. They would have come off their mountain and slaughtered us. We couldn’t have hidden on Cloudwatch forever, either. Sooner or later we would have to come down and scraggle for food.” Gale kicked at a loose stone. “Order them to begin loading what we can into chariots. Then get all the prisoners together and command them to carry the rest. Flog any of them who refuse.” With that, Gale took to the sky. He made his way back to the outpost, floating back where they had assembled it. When he landed, he turned back to look at the smoke and the debris. Then he went inside to wash his face. He never wished to see Storm’s Break again. Butternut had been taking shelter with the others when the pegasi kicked the door down. Some of the other commoners had simply screamed in horror, others had stood stock-still with their jaws agape and their eyes fixed in a terrified stare. She however had somehow known that this day would arrive. Her father lived and worked outside the walls, a timber-jack who harvested the greatwoods. She clung to hope that he had lived, but the same pragmatism that told her that the castle would soon fall also told her that her father had almost certainly been conscripted. They were herded like livestock through the catacombs at spearpoint. Even the dismal light outside was blinding compared to the torchlight in the dank grotto they had been locked in for the past two days. She was taken aback by the devastation she saw. When she had walked through the great arch door and taken a last look, the towers stood tall and the stonework was elegant, with the lower structures standing just as proud. Some of their timbers even bore eloquent scrollwork, the product of fine earth tribe craftsmanship, despite the hardscrabble times. Now there was mostly ruin. The tops of the some of the towers were pulverized by lightning. Stone debris littered the courtyard, and most anything wood had taken flame and burned. The smoke from those fires was long gone, and the only thing aflame was Rockjaw’s feather tapestry. She scoffed at the cruelty of that barbarian who was certainly dead now. The soldiers who drove them looked anemic and pale. Some of them stumbled as they walked, and those who flew did so slowly and awkwardly. Many of them bore wounds, and she knew they had been given a good fight. But desperation drove them, and Rockjaw’s army was not enough to protect the keep. It too had been whittled down by battle losses. Her uncle had died then. She averted her eyes from the corpses on the ground, even those who the fates had granted the dignity of a clean death. She knew her father may be among them. After being roughly assembled into a cluster in the center of the courtyard, one of the invaders flew up so all could see and hear. Her armor bore the ornate scrollwork of what must have been a high rank, and a soaked-through bandage was at her neck. She spoke in a powerful voice, but one that betrayed the hunger and battle fatigue. “Your attention here. I am Lieutenant Misty of Cloudwatch. I am commander of the garrison here. You are now subjects of the free pegasi of the Great Plains.” She took a moment to assess the crowd before continuing. “I will extend a promise of mercy to all those who swear fealty to us. If we are to continue on good terms, you will all kneel.” Butternut heard the shuffling of ragged clothes all around as they all begrudgingly knelt. Several did not, most of them burly stallions who stood with their chests puffed out in defiance. Lieutenant Misty looked as if she fully anticipated this. “Bring them” she said as she nodded to her soldiers, who roughly dragged the dissenters from the crowd and forced them to stand in front of her. She regarded them with her icy blue eyes. “You will not kneel, sirs?” One of them stepped forward. Butternut recognized him- a young lad who was a timber-jack’s apprentice. Strong and well-muscled. She didn’t know his name. He spoke boldly. “I will bend my knee to no foreign bastard who has slain my family and invaded my home.” Misty cocked her head. “Bold words from one who hid from the battle with the old mares and the cripples.” He shouted back. “I begged to fight. My father chose me to protect the others. You can ask him” he gestured towards the pegasi who’s nose he had broken when he had barged in- “how I did my duty!” “You may have done your job. But you are doing your compatriots no good by offering this foolish resistance. Bend the knee.” He spat. “I won’t! Take our food and be damned, you worthless featherneck!” Misty narrowed her eyes at the racial slur and nodded to one of the soldiers who she must have had standing by for this occasion, as he carried a large bullwhip which he lashed the colt with, brutally across the back. He gritted his teeth but did not cry out as he stared back at Misty. The lashes came, twice then thrice again. On the fourth, as the whipper reared back to strike again, the colt lashed out and delivered him a solid buck in the chest, blood from his back flecking across the stones. The other soldiers moved quickly to restrain him, and one held the tip of his wing to the throat. Butternut could see the sharp blades that the pegasi took for weapons there. The crowd stirred. Misty noticed this. She must have known that a revolt was at hand. And so she nodded again to the soldier. Butternut averted her eyes and as the crowd gasped and someone let out a scream she knew it was done. The other two who had chosen not to kneel did so now. As the young colt’s body was dragged away, Misty resumed her speech. “If there will be no more foolishness, I have need of a party of laborers. We will take our spoils back to the Great Plains and Cloudwatch." Butternut imagined that journey- a thousand leagues at least. It would take months, and they would have to make the treacherous crossing at The Scar, a brutal chain of jagged granite mountains. Misty continued. "Whoever volunteers for this duty will be given a double ration of food and drink for the duration of the trip. Who among you are trained growers?” The hoofs of a quarter of those present went up. Butternut’s did, too. She tended to a corner of the castle garden that yielded squash so delicious it went straight to Rockjaw’s great table. But she was able to steal some for her family, too. Her father appreciated nothing more after a day of labor. Misty took note of the number. “Very well. You will accompany us as well. The rest of you will be permitted to go back to your homes, if they remain. You will each be assigned a new job and will be expected to follow the command of any soldier to the letter.” She took a second to look around before finishing. “That will be all. Volunteers and growers, step to the right. All others to the left.” Soldiers waded through the crowd. Butternut was roughly herded to the right group. Most of the others there were other young peasants. She recognized some from the gardens, but none of her friends seemed to be there. They were shoved further out into the ruined courtyards. The other group was moved back into the keep. As Butternut watched them go, she wondered if she would ever see them again. The King's CouncilDamned cold. Damned incessant cold. These were the typical morning ruminations of Marvel, personal attendant to Archmage Lumin II. On this morning, that cold drove him to wake, and he rose from his bed and went to the window, opening the wooden shutters and taking in the familiar view. His fortunate location for a bedchamber was in the uppermost floor of Castle Greystoke. He looked out lazily over the distant mountain peaks out in the hazy distance. From the southern slopes of Mount Shine, Greystoke faced inward towards the neigh-impregnable inner circle of forest surrounded by the high peaks that made up the Round Table. They reached towards the sky; sharp, steep things. Their distant tops were obscured by the fog on this morning. Were it not for that fog, he may have been able to see the tell-tale shimmer of the barrier kept up by a constant shift of sworn castle mages. He had only once seen all the way to the other end of the circle, to the looming castle Highguard at the other end. He had just been a young colt then. Marvel leaned out the window, wincing where the cold stones touched his bare pelt. There was a shortage of activity in the courtyards. He thought it typical for a morning such as this. He closed the shutters to keep the draft out and moved to the hearth on the far wall. He thought to use the firesteel, but Lumin’s words scratched in his ears as if the old mage was standing right beside him- Use every opportunity for practice, child. Do not waste life’s offers. And so on, he thought, scoffing audibly. His old master’s teachings held weight with him, though, and so he concentrated on the paper kindling and focused his magic on it. His eye twitched with the exertion. Smoke began rolling off the paper, and a tiny, black-rimmed hole appeared at the center of his focus, but no flame sprung from it. He sighed and instead focused on a more familiar spell- telekinesis, to pick up the firesteel and quickly strike a hot flame into birth. After setting the kettle over the flame to boil, he sat back in the chair, sighing and looking over the meager decorations he had chosen to adorn his chamber with. The bare stone walls oozed trails of red-brown water stains in places, a product of the iron bacteria which was a component of the castle’s ancient mortar. His furniture was rickety and sparse but Lumin had taught him that material desires held little weight in the world. Personally, he found it wrong to use his position in the castle hierarchy to procure expensive trinkets while the commoners below burned their furniture for warmth. He sat and sipped the coffee, a rare luxury that he only rationed to himself on important days- there was a reason he had left the warm comfort of his bed this morning, he reminded himself. A council meeting. The politics used to bore him immensely, but now was a time of much turmoil out in the world and the meetings grew more intense every month. There were some that resented his presence there- what business does a mere colt’s presence have here? They muttered. But he cared not for them. After all, Archmage Lumin was one of the most wise and learned Unicorns in all history, and he was the Archmage’s attendant. It would stand to reason he would sit in on the council meetings to assist the Archmage in hearing and to serve as personal scribe. When it came time, he briskly trotted through the halls, noting how the wall sconces flickered with a draft that no one in three generations had managed to seal. When he reached the council chambers, the guards there took one sharp, synchronized step each, parting their golden halberds to let him pass. He focused a spell on the magical door, watching as it’s intricate cogs and pushrods moved, a mechanism older than his entire family and that he shuddered to imagine trying to fix. The table inside was half-full, but Archmage Lumin was there at his place- a withered, gray-maned old stallion with a dull blue coat. His sea-green eyes still shone bright despite his age, and anyone who thought he was as dull as his appearance suggested was a fool. The old stallion was always first to the meetings. Marvel gave him a dutiful bow and a polite but curt greeting and took his place beside him. He avoided stares from the likes of Minister Lark, who in contrast to Lumin’s conservative appearance wore a silken gown adorned with rubies, a grotesque display of wealth in these times. His horn was wrapped in a thin gold lace to make it sparkle. One would be lucky to have clothing at all, Marvel thought. Let alone that atrocity of fashion. The others filed in shortly. And there came the king’s squire. To announce his lord’s entry, the squire spoke in a confident voice- “All rise for the presence of His Highness King Lilac the First, Crowned protector of Castle Greystoke, Lord of the Round Table and rightful ruler of the Equine lands.” They all rose. The squire bowed deeply as the King strode in. He wore a similar silk as Lark, mercifully without the ridiculous jewels, and he took for his crown a modest golden circlet with the mark of the castle. He was tall and lean, and his sharp horn jutted out from his head. His dark violet eyes scanned the table as he walked to the large chair at the head of it. He cleared his throat. “Ministers. Thank you for your attendance, again. I’ll skip over the traditional pleasantries this time as I believe we have rather pressing matters to discuss. Duke Jian, if you would please.” Jian was Duke of Castle Highguard, the castle built into the northernmost peak of the Round Table. The view from it’s towers provided an expansive panorama of the great forests to the west, the expansive, windswept plains to the east, and dividing them down the middle, The Scar. That mountain chain was nigh-on impossible to cross but for a few choice spots. Jian himself was a small stallion of middle-age, with a well-kept beige coat and a mane of splotchy gold and silver. “Firstly, pressing internal matters continue to make themselves well apparent. We continue to deplete our resources at a rate ever-increasing with the cold. We have less than a year left before we will need to take measures to alleviate this situation. Highguard’s larders are running dry, and as for those of Greystoke-” “I need not a report on the stocks of my own castle.” King Lilac cut him off. “You spoke of urgent developments in the west.” Jian bowed his head before speaking with some excitation in his voice. “A scouting party has reported after a moon in the field, sire. Storm’s Break has fallen to the pegasi forces. Chief Rockjaw is dead, and his line is extinct. The castle keep lays in ruin.” “I hadn’t expected Rockjaw would keep that hold. A dumb barbarian he was, not a battle commander. But this move by High Commander Cirrus is most curious.” Spoke Minister Wick, a grizzled old mare and second oldest present. “Cirrus wasn’t present at that raid. It was carried out by Lord Gale.” Said Jian. “His son?” Lilac asked. “Second son. A curious move sending one inexperienced in command to siege such an important earth tribe redoubt.” Muttered Wick. “Their moves smell of-” “-Desparation.” Minister Lark cut her off, with his conniving, hoighty tone. “Their atrophy finally pushed them to the breaking point. They struck to plunder the castle.” Jian nodded. “And that they have. That is the importance of this meeting. Some of their supplies they move by air, out of our reach. It is not the right time to strike Cloudwatch, not yet. But such is the volume of their spoils, they must move it on the ground. And in order to get from the western forests to the plains of the east..” Marvel suddenly understood. “They will have to cross The Scar.” He spoke without realizing it. Lark’s eyes burned with disdain at Marvel’s speaking out of turn, but Jian nodded approvingly. “Indeed, young one. They must transit The Scar with their goods in tow. Probably using captive labor. Your highness, this gives us the perfect opportunity to strike!” King Lilac had been listening to this all unfold with a keen interest. “For thirty years we’ve kept the barrier. And now you believe is the time to finally strike out at them?” Marvel understood the king’s hesitation. For the barrier was not there to keep out the other two tribes. Militarily, they were no match for the magical strength that Unicorns possessed. The barrier was constantly staffed with the hold’s top mages because every old mare could still tell vivid stories with haunted looks in their eyes- stories of draconys, the great black dragon that had besieged their home a generation ago. The beast had come from the endless wilderness to the west, seeing the Round Table as a suitable territorial expansion, the theory was. The ruins of Castle Blackiron served as a gruesome reminder as to the battle. Marvel’s own grandfather had perished in the battle, he was told. From that day, the Barrier was materialized by seven hundred mages and never had fallen since. Jian nodded in earnest. “We must strike while the iron is hot, sire. The pegasi have lost a great number of their fighting forces and are headed this way right now with food enough to replenish the larders of both castles.” Lilac stroked his beard in thought. “The pegasi nor the earth tribe have seen naught of us for nearly thirty years. But we may soon grow just as desperate as the pegasi were. For all of our magic, still we can not grow the food of the earth tribe.” He turned to Marvel’s corner of the table. “Archmage Lumin. You are quiet as ever. What is your council?” Lumin looked up. He truly had been deep in thought for the length of the meeting. When he spoke, he did so in a scratchy but powerful voice. “We should let them pass, highness.” Wick and Jian eyed him with a curious glance each, but Lark blustered “Have you gone mad, old one? Our citizenry stands to starve and you would let a bounty walk right past our doorstep?!” Lumin gave him a steely gaze. “I fear that you don’t recognize the true threat. We have been studying intently for months. The climate shows no signs of warming. On the contrary, all evidence says that it will only get colder. There will be little use for food when we are frozen to death.” Lark cursed. “It’s the pegasi, it must be. This trickery with the weather is their doing. Somehow-” Lumin shook his head. “It is not their doing. They are not capable of it. Something else is causing this, some magical force we cannot comprehend. Stuck in the Round Table as we are, we can still observe the happenings in the other lands.” Lark scoffed and shook his head, but everyone else at the table stared at Archmage Lumin with a sort of terrified interest. Finally, he sucked in a raggard breath and spoke with finality- “It is unmistakable. With each battle, the land grows weaker.” The New MissionThe chariot landed roughly, and Gale cursed at the thought of breaking another axle. He stepped out onto the ground, shuddering as the brisk wind caught his face. His neck throbbed, the chill aggravating the sprain he had received in battle. He winced as he turned to look out at the horizon. He could just see the looming white towers of Cloudwatch out in the distance. He nodded to the chariot drivers, who saluted him before taking off. The empty chariot bumped over the uneven ground before becoming airborne. Gale watched it disappear. Custom dictated that he return to the city himself, and he agreed with it- no proud battle commander should return on a chariot. He stretched his wings and took to the air, fighting a slight headwind as he flew. He watched the rough scrub bushes below him streak by. Eventually, they gave way to signs of civilization- ramshackle huts and rough dirt paths. The town beneath Cloudwatch was home to most of the lower-class citizens- those too poor, old, or wounded to live in the massive floating keep resided here. Gale knew that life was a constant struggle there- hunger and raids by roaming Griffon war parties were nearly a part of daily life. Thermals from the sandy plains below pushed him skyward as he approached Cloudwatch. The keep was built three generations ago by Gale’s paternal great-grandparents, and had stood unopposed ever since. Who could oppose it? Griffons were too disorganized and barbaric to form a proper army, and Dragons had no interest in the clouds. Gale landed outside the gilded gates, servants rushing to offer him water and to shine his armor. He brushed them aside- he would prefer his father to see that his victory wasn’t easily won. Moving into the castle courtyard, Gale kept his eyes locked ahead, ignoring the fanfare and applause that had been prepared for him. An honor guard detail flanked his path, keeping a welcome barrier of stoicism between him and the crowd. He ascended the steps of the throne room tower, once again alone with his thoughts as the noises receded. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the massive white doors, ornately detailed with depictions of past battles, that stood as the entrance to his father’s throne room. The first comfort he received was the sight of his family there to greet him. His mother, Spring Rain, wordlessly embraced him, struggling to hold back her tears. “Mother” he murmured, relieved to find that she was still in good health. Then came his younger brother, Shear Wind, and his paternal cousin, Dust Devil. They were both respected commanders in their own right. Shear Wind greeted him with a salute, which Gale returned with a grin. Dust Devil’s preferred method of greeting was to tackle him to the ground. As they tussled, Gale managed to get on top and get his cousin in a hooflock. Dust Devil laughed. “Okay, Okay! I give up.” Gale relented, allowing his cousin to stand up and give him a proper embrace. Gale grinned as he noticed a fresh scar marring Dust Devil’s sandy tan coat, just above his left eye. The pale brown of that eye glinted at him, full of energy. “Looking good, Dusty. Did you get too fresh with one of those mares from court?” He said, teasingly. Dust Devil scoffed. “I wish. This is a token of esteem from a very pleasant Griffon who we caught out on the plains. Don’t worry, I taught that worthless cat-bird a lesson.” “I’m sure you did.” Gale replied, before he remembered the task at hand. He steeled himself and walked forward. His father, Cirrus, sat on the cloudy throne at the other end of the long hall. When Gale reached it, he withdrew a tattered piece of fabric from behind his breastplate and placed it on the ground before bowing low. Cirrus rose from the throne. His father had earned the title of High Commander through blood and ambition, and it showed. His silvery coat bore a hundred scars and his breathing was ragged. “Rise, son.” He spoke, picking up the cloth. He unfolded it, taking in the golden sigil on the forest green cloth- a depiction of Storm’s Break surrounded by great trees. Gale rose. “It is done, High Commander. Storm’s Break is yours. Her spoils are yours. The Earth Tribe’s greatest army is defeated.” Cirrus closed his eyes. “Twenty years, we’ve been fighting. And now it’s over…” He sat back on the throne, groaning at the movement. “Did I tell you the story of the first time we met Rockjaw in battle?” Gale knew the story inside and out, but he shook his head respectfully. “No, High Commander. You have not.” Cirrus chuckled. “Enough with the titles. You’ve been calling me that since I won the throne. You were so young then, you didn’t know what it meant…” Gale shuffled uncomfortably. “Very well… Father.” Cirrus stared off as he spoke. “It was on the shores of the Black Pit- you’ve seen it? The lake seemed to swallow all color. It was cold, even then. Rockjaw met our force with a thousand warriors. Head-to-hoof in iron armor, spikes on their shoes three inches long, they would go right through you.” He paused to grunt as he shifted to a more comfortable position. Gale wondered how clouds could possibly be uncomfortable. “And he won, you know. We were routed. I lost most of my soldiers. But not before I met him in single combat, right on the water’s edge. I gave him that ugly scar and took his eye with a swipe of my wing. Did you see him?” Gale reflected on their mutual adversary. He had been full of vitriol then, in the battle, but in the grand scheme of things Gale almost regretted destroying such a legendary opponent. Rockjaw had been ruler of the forestlands for nearly thirty years, and had a fearsome reputation for it. And yet he had been dragged from his castle keep alongside his sons and put to the blade. He had spat insults at Gale until his last breath. Gale nodded. “Yes, father. I met him. He refused to yield the castle, as you said.” Cirrus coughed, a laborious, dry crackle from his throat. “Too proud. Too dumb, maybe. But I knew my son could do it. It had to be my blood to take that castle. If not Twister, than you.” Gale soured at the mention of his brother, but he managed to keep his outward composure. Twister had been the favorite son. He’d led armies against the griffons and earth tribe, and he had been legendary for it. He was everything that Gale wanted to be. And then disease had cut him down within a fortnight. And suddenly that responsibility that Gale so craved had been laid on his shoulders. Cirrus sighed. “I don’t mean it that way. You’ve proven yourself more than capable now. And now that you’ve been proven, I need you now more than ever.” Gale bowed. “What would you have me do?” Cirrus replied bluntly. “I’m dying. Each day I waste away a little more. I can’t fly for more than a few seconds, and soon I won’t be able to walk either. The time has come to pass on the leadership.” Gale frowned. “Father, I’m far too young to-” Cirrus cut him off. “To rule, I know. The throne is yours by right, but someone more capable should rule in your stead until you gain that experience. Which you will get as the new Wing Commander of our royal army.” Gale was taken aback. This was an honor he had never expected to receive. He thought of words he could use to convey the sense of pride he felt, but decided getting down to business might impress his father more. “What would you have me do?” He asked. His father closed his eyes. “We might have defeated the Earth Tribe, for all intents and purposes, but this world is still full of danger for us. The food you took will feed us for a few months. The earth pony growers you captured can make food enough to support Cloudwatch, but the peasants down in the plains towns…? It’s still not enough for them.” Cirrus’ hoof twitched as he spoke. Gale noticed his father’s movements were shakier and more labored than the last time he had stood here. It was four months ago he had been given command of the force to take Storm’s Break and sent away. Not long, perhaps, but he still felt like he had matured greatly on the journey. But for as much as he had grown, his father had seemed to deteriorate in his absence. Cirrus broke the silence. “It’s bad enough we have to deal with Griffon raiders. We still have the Unicorns, hiding behind their shield. We think they’re planning something.” Gale scowled. “We’ve seen naught of them for twenty years, father. I’ve only met two in my life.” “They aren’t as reclusive as you think. We may not know what’s going on behind that magic wall, but we know they have to eat, too. And now we have the advantage in that area.” “But the barrier. Even if we can outlast them in a siege, we can’t break that wall. It’s made to keep out dragons, not just pegasi.” Cirrus had a hint of a grin as he spoke. “They aren’t as reclusive as you think, I said. For the past year, they’ve been opening a hole in the barrier in strategic places to send out scouting parties. We’ve never captured any of them, but we know they’re out and about, and they’re looking for something.” Gale pondered that, and he had to jar himself back to reality to focus on what Cirrus was saying next. “Your first mission, Wing Commander Gale, is to capture one of these scouting parties. You will interrogate them for information, and you will use that information to determine when the barrier will open next. You will then take a small complement of our best fighters into the Round Table, and from there you will execute guerilla attacks on the barrier mages until it’s weak enough that we can smash through it with lightning.” Gale was conflicted. On one side, this was to be a mission like no one had ever performed. No pegasus had ever stepped a hoof inside the unicorn’s wall. And weakening them could bring an end to the seemingly endless conflicts and secure his race’s superiority for all time. But it was cowardly, too. He preferred to face opponents on the open field and win through superior strategy and bravery, not through subterfuge and backstabbing. But orders were orders, and he would carry them out. He would prove to his father that he was worthy. He bowed low. “Then it will be so, father. May I have my leave?’ Cirrus waved him off. “Go, go. Clean yourself up and break your fast. Enjoy the comforts of home while you can.” Gale rose and wordlessly walked out of the room. His family waited for him outside the throne room, and they looked at him expectantly. He sighed. “I need something to eat.” The MarchButternut shivered and inched closer to the small fire. She stared into the coals, trying to imagine that she was sitting at home by the hearth, watching chestnuts roast on a flat stone. But the fantasy was quickly vaporized as a crude wooden bowl of brown stew was thrust at her face. She looked up. “Rations.” Grunted the pegasi, before moving on to someone else. She ate the stew slowly, trying to savor what little flavor there was. This time, she stared off at the horizon. The setting sun cast a dull red glow on the lower half of the sky, and she could see the jagged mountain peaks in the distance, like teeth in the mouth of some foul beast. The Scar was roughly the halfway point of their journey, and also the most arduous part. They had struggled through the forests and hills for nearly a month. Each day she carried two barrels of wheat on a crude leather saddle. It was uncomfortable and bulky, and anyone who split their cargo was flogged. The pegasi who drove them were quick to anger, and each of them was in a foul mood about having to walk the entire way. There were rumors that the detail was some punishment for them, and Butternut could believe it. She reached the bottom of the bowl, and kept licking at the wood until it was thoroughly clean. They were fed twice a day, and it was nothing like what they considered food. The stews and hay were supplemented by a crude flatbread that some of the earth ponies had been making in secret, but the whippings if one was to be caught with it made it almost not worth the trouble. Butternut was certain that the confiscated “contraband” went straight into the pegasi guard’s stomachs as soon as they were out of sight. They too were under strict orders to not touch the spoils from Storm’s Break and that only served to worsen their demeanor. She wondered what she would find at The Scar. She had never been that far west before, but she had heard from those that did that the crossing was treacherous and cold. A traveler could expect to combat steep climbs, rockslides, and an incessant icy wind that could quickly take one’s ears and nose. She strained to look south, where she knew that the straight mountain chain would branch out and form a circle where the Unicorns lived. She thought she might be able to see the magical wall she had learned about, but all there was in that direction was more trees and a few wispy clouds in the sky. She supposed it was perhaps a good thing. She had been taught that the Unicorns were a dangerous race to be feared and that their magical powers could level entire armies. If it were not for dragon attacks on their strongholds they could have conquered the world. Now they hid behind that wall and she had never met one. She wondered if perhaps the rumors were wrong, and they might actually be friendly. “Fires out! Get in your bags!” Came the gruff command, and Butternut bitterly muttered that she would prefer the unicorns over the situation they were in now. She unrolled the roughly-sewn sleeping bag they all carried along with their supply cargo and kicked dirt over the fire, struggling to break the frost layer on the ground. She squirmed to try and get warm in it’s absence, focusing on staying still to stop the shivering. She turned over on her back to watch her breath rise, looking at the brilliant sky, speckled with bright stars. Each of them was a sun like their own, she had learned. She wondered if more worlds like this may be out there among them. She hoped that if there were, whoever lived there was having a better time. She drifted off to sleep with thoughts of a faraway alien civilization feasting on white bread and rich golden hay, and frolicking under a warm summer sun. Butternut’s sleep didn’t last long. Seemingly as soon as she closed her eyes, a rough kick woke her suddenly. “Up!” commanded the voice, and Butternut obliged as fast as she could, crawling out into the unwelcoming cold and rolling up the bag. The camp was a flurry of activity. The sun was just rising and the camp was shrouded in mist. She walked to get in line with the other prisoners to receive their cargo. This time, she was saddled with a barrel of apples, strapped across her back. It wasn’t nearly as light as the oat sacks she had carried before. The command to move out came, and they were headed west once more. As they walked, Butternut sensed someone coming up behind her. She turned, expecting a pegasus there to roughly command her to go faster, but found to her relief that it was just Marigold, a mare older than herself, who she had gotten to know in the weeks of their journey. Talking was forbidden, but conversations could be had among the laborers if they were careful enough. “How are you doing?” Asked Marigold, her voice hoarse. “Fine. I hate carrying barrels. At least the sacks match the contour of your back.” Butternut grunted. “I know.” Responded Marigold sympathetically, she herself with a barrel of unknown contents. Potatoes, perhaps. “What do you think it’ll be like?” “The mountains? I suppose it’ll be difficult going.” “No, no. When we get there. To their city. What do you think they’ll do to us?” Butternut realized she hadn’t really considered that. She and everyone else had been so focused on the long journey and the looming mountains in front of them that she hadn’t thought of the end result. “Well, they expect us to grow food for them. We may not be treated fairly, but they’ll keep us alive.” Marigold was quiet from then on. They walked, eyes glued to whoever was in front of them. They passed stands of trees and frozen lakes, and most torturous- a hot spring. They had no choice but to trot past it, each of them freezing and sorely in need of a bath. Eventually the sun began to set, and the command came to set the camp. Pegasus soldiers observed from above as they set about collecting firewood and pitching tents. Butternut herself was on firewood detail. She prefered this most as it allowed a little time alone from the others, and she could walk without the weight on her back. She plodded through the forest, picking up dry sticks and adding them to a stack she was building nearby. As she moved towards a spruce to collect it’s pitch, something caught her eye. She thought it may be one of the others, but quickly she realized that this was no pony. She struggled to make it out through the trees, and it was some distance away, but from what she could see, it was a creature that could not be of the earth. It looked like it was made of ice. It floated, but not with wings like a pegasus might- instead, this thing was wispy, like a cloud, and yet solid at the same time. The most clear feature was the eyes- a piercing, evil blue. She stood there, stock-still, terrified. The monster seemed to freeze her with it’s very gaze. It seemed like an eternity, but eventually, another noise snapped her out of it. She whipped her head around to find a soldier- one of the younger, kinder ones. “What are you still doing out here? Come on, grab that wood and let’s get back.” She turned to look for the ice creature again, but it was gone. The Secret MeetingMarvel trotted through the courtyard, watching the smoke drift up into the sky. He was headed for Lumin’s quarters, as his master had summoned him with some urgency. This was rare for him- Lumin was typically very reserved and quiet, and typically came calling himself rather than sending a messenger, despite his old age. Marvel ascended the ancient stone spiral staircase that led to the top of the Archmage’s tower,listening to the long echos of his hoofbeats. When he reached the heavy oaken door at the top, he knocked three times briskly, and then stood back. The door shimmered with Lumin’s dull green magical aura, clacking as the deadbolt was released and the door parted. Marvel walked in apprehensively. Lumin sat as his rough old table. A mare was there, who Marvel recognized immediately. It was Antares, who was ten years older than Marvel, and had been Lumin’s apprentice before him. She had moved to Highguard to serve as their castle mage and Marvel had only met her once before- yet she had made a lasting impression. She must have come along with Jian, Marvel thought. He bowed to Lumin. “You summoned me, master?” Lumin nodded. “Sit down, child. I’m afraid we have a matter of great importance to discuss.” As Marvel sat, Lumin’s horn flashed, and the door latched and locked behind him. “You remember Antares, I take it.” Marvel nodded. “A pleasure to meet you again.” Antares cleared her throat. “I wish I were here under more favorable circumstances. The information you receive here is not to be discussed outside of this room, no matter what. If you do not wish to carry this burden, you may leave now.” Marvel leaned forward. He said nothing, which served as a clear communication that he wished to stay. In fact, he thought, he wouldn’t leave this room at swordpoint. Antares blinked, unsurprised. “Very well. Master, shall I?” Lumin nodded, and Antares spoke in a neutral but serious tone. “As you know, Marvel, we have been sending scout parties beyond the wall for some time now. We don’t believe our enemies know of this, but observations from the field have made our situation… troubling. You have noticed the weather.” Marvel nodded. This year’s summer was short and precious few days were comfortable. “We believe that the deteriorating conditions are tied to the battles raging outside. The pegasi forces have been waging a large campaign against the earth tribe, with the largest battle in recent history occurring only weeks ago. At Highguard, we were able to measure an immediate drop in the temperature coinciding with this battle.” Marvel was confused. “What is the cause? Is it the pegasi’s doing, as Duke Jian says?” Lumin sighed and shook his head. “Jian is a fool, and his foolishness may yet be our undoing.” Marvel was taken aback. It was rare to hear his master comment on political matters, and even rarer to hear him speak insults about others. He prefered to stay grounded in the living moment and immerse himself in magic. But Marvel listened as Antares continued. “We can only conclude that this is the result of an unknown magical entity. As you know, Marvel, there is magic in all equine races, not only ours. And all our magical forces are tied to nature, as well. Somehow, the wars outside must be causing an imbalance.” Lumin spoke now. “This could be the end of all of us, should it continue. And now Jian stands to take an army outside our wall and attack a traveling party.” Marvel finally spoke up. “So, then, you wish to stop him? How can we do this?” Lumin grit his old teeth and drummed a hoof on the table. “We cannot stop him, child. Against my council, Lilac has decided to agree with Jian’s plans. The barrier will open and our army will march for the first time in a generation.” Marvel was confused. “So, then…” “Then if we cannot directly intervene, we will follow them in secret and see if we can directly interact with this magical entity. If it can be destroyed, then perhaps there is still hope for us.” This excited Marvel. He had heard stories of the barbarism outside the barrier, but the urge for adventure excited him still. He had seen nearly all the land inside the Round Table had to offer, and the thought of millions of acres outside of it with new and uncontacted races tantalized him. “Would you have me go, Master?” Lumin sighed. “No, child. It is too dangerous for you. Antares and I must go alone.” Marvel’s stomach sank. “But, master…” Lumin leaned in. “You have an important mission here, Marvel. You will need to take over my duties in my stead. It may be many months before I return. Greystoke will need someone of your talents.” Marvel was beyond disappointed with this revelation, but he bowed all the same. “As you wish, Master.” Lumin leaned back and closed his eyes. “I fear that there are a great many things we cannot see. We must use caution in the coming weeks.” He opened his eyes. “You may go, Marvel. Retire to your chambers. I will call for you in the morning.” Marvel got up wordlessly. He walked out and shut the door behind him.
Prologue“It’s time, Milord.” The unwelcome intrusion woke Lord Commander Gale from his shallow sleep. He sat up sharply, waving off the soldier who had the unenviable task of waking him. He moved briskly, donning his armor and inspecting his warfeathers for appropriate sharpness. Finding them satisfactory, he stepped outside. The cold air bit into his face as he took in the white expanse before him. Soldiers moved around, preparing for a coming battle. Large cumulonimbus were being amassed- and with them, he would lay waste to Storm's Break, a major earth tribe bastion. If, He thought. The parlay does not go according to plan. Those he passed bowed low to him and he would typically acknowledge them with a nod- but on this morning his mind was preoccupied. Their fighting strength was diminishing, not through battle losses, but through a much more vicious killer- starvation. Lack of food was bleeding his fighters dry. The earth tribe, on the other hand, was well fed and well-ready for a conflict. The larders of Storm's Break were laden with grains and fruits in cold-storage. Enough to supply an army to siege the magical stronghold on Mount Shine, even. Enough perhaps to secure his family's superiority for all time. Gale reached the edge of the cloud and simply stepped off of it. He unfurled his wingspan, keeping things slow for his lack of cold-weather gear. The windchill was known to cost foolhardy fliers their ears, and doctors were in short supply. The massive walls and towers of Storm's Break loomed in the distance, the massive pyres in the towers lighting them for all to see, a bright contrast to the bleak horizon beyond. He landed near the clearing designated for the meeting. His personal lieutenant was there to greet him. Misty was an accomplished fighter in her own right, although her ribs would be prominent if she were to remove her armor, much the same as the rest of his fighting force. Sharp warfeathers glistened among her tawny plumage, made dull from a poor diet of scrub grass. “Are they here, yet?” He asked, the strain in his voice painfully audible, even to him. “They’re waiting. They’ve fulfilled the terms of the parlay, too. I’ve had our detachment stand off.” Gale sighed. “Walk with me. I’ll value your council.” The pair made their way towards the opening in the brush, finding the area lit well enough by perimeter torches. Two of his prospective enemy stood there, in their characteristic heavy iron armor. Their back shoes each had three sharp iron spikes on their bottoms. One of them removed his helmet to step forward. He bore a ragged scar across his right cheek- and his right eye was pale and sightless. Gale stepped towards him, standing back at a respectful distance. “Chief Rockjaw. I cordially thank you for agreeing to the terms of the meeting, and-” Rockjaw scoffed at his assumed polite demeanor and shattered Gale’s barrier of personal space. He strode to within hoof’s reach of Gale and stared him in the eyes, the breath roiling from his nostrils visible in the brisk air. “Enough with your useless words. Say your terms. The morning is cold and I should like a good laugh.” Gale sighed. He wasn’t off to a great start. “Very well. You stand in face of a superior fighting force. You are commanded to lay down your arms and open Storm's Break to us. We will take half of your food stocks, half of your weapons, and half of your gold. We will conscript one-quarter of your fighting stallions to our cause, and a further one quarter of your growers. You will then allow free acquisition of materials from your greatwoods, and in return I will leave Storm's Break intact under the protection of a detachment of my warriors. Do you agree?” Gale knew what the answer was even before Rockjaw roughly spit in the dirt, his remaining good eye nearly glowing with intensity. He howled at Gale with unbridled rage- “You dare to presume that you can take your starving group of cloud-jumpers to my castle gates and make demands? I should like to see you try to take anything from us, Gale! For every pegasus that lands inside my walls, I will add a new feather to my chamber tapestry. Starting, perhaps, with yours.” Rockjaw strode forward aggressively. Misty smoothly stepped forward and extended her wing between Gale and the angry warlord currently staring him down, displaying her razor-sharp blades. "Remember the agreement, Chief. If you take another step, it will be your last." Rockjaw's lieutenant stepped forward but he was roughly waved back. Rockjaw eyed the both of them down with murderous intention. "You have one last chance to accept my terms." Gale spoke in an icy tone. Rockjaw growled, a low, threatening rumble that Gale was not afraid to admit unnerved him. "Enter my lands and try your luck, fool. I will see you on the battlefield." Gale nodded. “I had considered the possibility of you saying that. I regret to promise you that your family line will end tonight. This meeting is over.” He and Misty bowed slightly before taking a slight running start and alighting from the clearing, leaving the pair of earth warriors to stomp the ground and head back to their fortress. Misty and he flew silently, slicing through the cold air. Their siege cell loomed above, casting a dark shadow on the already-dark ground. The towering cumulonimbus were black with energy, sharp blue bolts bursting from their puffy formations. He hoped it would be enough. They landed in front of the command room. Another officer was there to meet them. Lieutenant Rainband could tell from their faces that their encounter with the enemy had not gone as ideally as it could have. “We are prepared to move into position, Lord. At your command, Storm's Break will be ours by next nightfall.” Gale sighed. “And the soldiers. Do they have the energy for this siege?” Rainband paused for a moment. “Lord, if I may speak frankly, we have enough left in us for another fight. And we are determined. Should we fail here, we may not have what it takes for another conflict, at least not for some time. And by then we will be even weaker. We are driven by our loyalty to you, but we are equally driven to crack that castle open like a nut and take her bounty for ourselves.” Gale nodded. “Then make it so. Order the cumulus into position.” Rainband bowed low, and flew off. Orders went through the chains of command, and soon dozens of his warriors were aloft, moving the clouds into position. The dark shadows they cast cut a swathe through the greatwoods. The massive forest was perhaps the greatest asset Storm's Break had to offer. The towering oaks stretched skyward, some of them in excess of one hundred and fifty feet, and twelve feet in diameter. The timber he could harvest there could build him a city, or a fleet. If I had the stallion-power to do it. He mused. He watched with his dark eyes as the towering clouds finally arrived in position over the castle. Misty landed beside him. “All elements are ready, Lord." Gale sighed. “At my signal, unleash Tartarus on them.” Misty bowed and flew off. Gale waited a few more minutes, contemplating the endless conflicts and the family he had left behind. Finally, he turned around. He nodded to the archer standing at the ready, who lit his arrow in a brazier and let it fly. At once, the massive cumulonimbus unleashed their energy onto the castle. With every drumbeat-synchronized buck from the legion of Cloudkickers, a brilliant bolt of lightning flew forth. These clouds had been seeded above the great plains and had been artificially grown to levels of energy far surpassing any that would occur in nature. They had been transported here over the past month, and their transport required an army in it's own right. The earth tribe had learned from previous engagements. They had outfitted the towers with lightning rods. He watched as the tops of the castle’s battlements attracted lightning, in awe at the sort of beauty of it. The dry lightning could be seen for many leagues. A testament to his army's strength, Gale thought with pride. But even their lightning rods could not hold off the full strength of the barrage. As he watched, an orange glow began shining off the battlements- he knew the wooden structures within had taken flame. The Cumulonimbus finally ran dry, and the barrage stopped. He knew Rockjaw would have measures in place to fight fire, but the orange glow gave way to visible flames as the buildings within were consumed. Many of Rockjaw's warriors may have died, but there were doubtless many more- enough to pose a real threat. There was only one thing left to do. Gale ran off his cloudy perch, streaking towards the burning castle at top speed. He felt barely encumbered by his light armor and warfeathers, and the adrenaline flowing made his heart beat in his ears like timpani. As he got closer, he could see his warriors streaming down towards the castle too, and the sounds of screaming and combat penetrated the rushing air to reach his ears. The wooden structures were well aflame, but the central structures were all of heavy cobblestone, and out from them poured ironclad earth warriors in worrying quantities. The fighting was everywhere, and it was fast paced and vicious. His warriors were not anywhere near as ferocious as he had seen them to be in past raids, nor as fast. For seemingly every time they tried to attack from above, an earth warrior, despite his heavy iron armor, was able to snatch them and wrestle them to ground. Gale sighted one of them, a hugely muscled stallion with scored armor from many engagements, streaked in red. His helmet was not starkly iron, as was standard- it bore a multicolored plumage. A war trophy composed of pegasus feathers. Gale shot towards him. The enemy noticed him almost immediately, years of training no doubt yielding him quick instincts and a gaze ever-skyward. He ran, his iron shoes pounding the ground. Gale gritted his teeth against the speed he was reaching, at the last second shifting into a standard dive-attack- back legs first. The earth warrior dove out of the way, leaving Gale to slam into the ground, elegantly transferring his momentum into a roll. He came up ready to fight and was surprised with the speed that the enemy had reached him with. He lashed out with his wing, but his warfeathers failed to find a chink in the warriors armor. He grunted as he dodged out of the way to avoid being impaled by a buck from the warrior’s iron-spiked shoes. He shot skyward again, attempting to regroup and strike from a more strategic angle. But just as fast, a weight around his neck jerked him back to ground. Instantly, the chaos of the battle was drowned out by a hellish tinnitus, and Gale panicked as is vision left him . As he fought for breath, he regained blurred vision enough to see that another earth warrior had downed him with a lasso and the one with the feathered helmet was moving in for the kill. Gale slashed the rope with his warfeathers, gasping for air as the slipknot around his neck was released. He scarcely managed to roll out of the way as the big warrior stomped down, shattering the paving stone where Gale’s head used to be. Gale bucked out, striking his enemy in the breastplate and staggering him back, allowing enough time to scramble to his hooves. The big warrior howled a battle cry and charged. Just as he pivoted to deliver a death-dealing buck, Gale shot up and struck down in one fluent motion. It had the exact effect he had hoped for- the warrior slammed down on his belly, his legs sprawled out. Gale landed on his back hard, not giving him any time to recover, and slashed the exposed back of the neck with his wing. Bits of the earth warrior’s black mane joined the red on the ground as Gale shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears, not pausing before charging back into the din, sighting a new opponent.
The Fall of Storm's BreakThe last remnants of smoke roiled off the collapsed pile of blackened timbers where a longhall used to be. Gale watched it as it drifted up, being suddenly sucked away in an eddy of wind once it was higher than the castle wall. The fighting had been treacherous, and now that the losses were sinking in, he began to wonder if it had all been worth it. But he quickly shoved aside those thoughts. His Lord father taught him that a good commander never second-guesses himself. Perhaps he was right- Gale looked around and reminded himself that Storm’s Break was now his. His soldiers milled about, taking stock of their losses. And their plunders. Scribes scribbled down information as carts with bushels of wheat, barrels of apples, and hay bales were wheeled into the center courtyard, being placed in a semi-organized heap. Too much to be taken by chariot, he mused. He could conscript some of the earth pony prisoners to carry the rest back through the mountain pass to the plains that Cloudwatch sat above. I don’t envy them. He thought as he watched the carts roll through the large stone-arch main door of the castle. Now, some of them were laden with glistening gold bars. He could use them to trade with some of the outlanders for more food and steel. The families they left behind at Cloudwatch would be well-fed for many moons, now. With the earth pony growers they had taken prisoner, they could begin to grow sustainable crops. But the losses…. He regarded the ground, where red patches and spots adorned the grey paving stones. Yes, the losses had been tremendous, for both sides. He was down over half of his best soldiers, either wounded or dead. Many of the earth tribe, too. He lowered his eyes. Gale had kept his word- Rockjaw and his sons were among them. Gale coughed as he inhaled at the wrong time and sucked in a cloud of acrid smoke. With a sudden wave of revulsion he imagined what other materials besides wood might be mixed in with that smoke. A voice shook him from his stupor. “Five thousand wheat bushels. Fifteen-hundred hay bales. Five hundred barrels of apples. Another Five hundred barrels of whiskey. Seventy barrels of sterile water. Three thousand pure gold bars. We haven’t finished counting the weapons. Two hundred earth ponies dead. One hundred and five more wounded. They’re rooting out the peasants from the catacombs now.” Gale closed his eyes and grimaced. Misty had an uncanny ability to remember these numbers, and he knew very well what statistics she would be telling him next. “One hundred and thirty of ours dead. Another sixty wounded, half seriously. We have one hundred and twenty able-bodied fighters left. I’ve already sent a messenger back to Cloudwatch with everything I just told you, Lord.” Gale opened his eyes to stare up at the towering castle. Under different circumstances he would have admired the architecture… “Was it worth it?” Gale looked to Misty. She favored her right foreleg heavily, and her neck bore a nasty gash. “Get that taken care of.” Gale grunted. “And, yes. It was worth it. Think of what would have become of us if we hadn’t struck them? We would have lasted maybe a month before we wasted away too much to fight. And then what? If they hadn’t killed us then, then the Unicorns would have. They would have come off their mountain and slaughtered us. We couldn’t have hidden on Cloudwatch forever, either. Sooner or later we would have to come down and scraggle for food.” Gale kicked at a loose stone. “Order them to begin loading what we can into chariots. Then get all the prisoners together and command them to carry the rest. Flog any of them who refuse.” With that, Gale took to the sky. He made his way back to the outpost, floating back where they had assembled it. When he landed, he turned back to look at the smoke and the debris. Then he went inside to wash his face. He never wished to see Storm’s Break again. Butternut had been taking shelter with the others when the pegasi kicked the door down. Some of the other commoners had simply screamed in horror, others had stood stock-still with their jaws agape and their eyes fixed in a terrified stare. She however had somehow known that this day would arrive. Her father lived and worked outside the walls, a timber-jack who harvested the greatwoods. She clung to hope that he had lived, but the same pragmatism that told her that the castle would soon fall also told her that her father had almost certainly been conscripted. They were herded like livestock through the catacombs at spearpoint. Even the dismal light outside was blinding compared to the torchlight in the dank grotto they had been locked in for the past two days. She was taken aback by the devastation she saw. When she had walked through the great arch door and taken a last look, the towers stood tall and the stonework was elegant, with the lower structures standing just as proud. Some of their timbers even bore eloquent scrollwork, the product of fine earth tribe craftsmanship, despite the hardscrabble times. Now there was mostly ruin. The tops of the some of the towers were pulverized by lightning. Stone debris littered the courtyard, and most anything wood had taken flame and burned. The smoke from those fires was long gone, and the only thing aflame was Rockjaw’s feather tapestry. She scoffed at the cruelty of that barbarian who was certainly dead now. The soldiers who drove them looked anemic and pale. Some of them stumbled as they walked, and those who flew did so slowly and awkwardly. Many of them bore wounds, and she knew they had been given a good fight. But desperation drove them, and Rockjaw’s army was not enough to protect the keep. It too had been whittled down by battle losses. Her uncle had died then. She averted her eyes from the corpses on the ground, even those who the fates had granted the dignity of a clean death. She knew her father may be among them. After being roughly assembled into a cluster in the center of the courtyard, one of the invaders flew up so all could see and hear. Her armor bore the ornate scrollwork of what must have been a high rank, and a soaked-through bandage was at her neck. She spoke in a powerful voice, but one that betrayed the hunger and battle fatigue. “Your attention here. I am Lieutenant Misty of Cloudwatch. I am commander of the garrison here. You are now subjects of the free pegasi of the Great Plains.” She took a moment to assess the crowd before continuing. “I will extend a promise of mercy to all those who swear fealty to us. If we are to continue on good terms, you will all kneel.” Butternut heard the shuffling of ragged clothes all around as they all begrudgingly knelt. Several did not, most of them burly stallions who stood with their chests puffed out in defiance. Lieutenant Misty looked as if she fully anticipated this. “Bring them” she said as she nodded to her soldiers, who roughly dragged the dissenters from the crowd and forced them to stand in front of her. She regarded them with her icy blue eyes. “You will not kneel, sirs?” One of them stepped forward. Butternut recognized him- a young lad who was a timber-jack’s apprentice. Strong and well-muscled. She didn’t know his name. He spoke boldly. “I will bend my knee to no foreign bastard who has slain my family and invaded my home.” Misty cocked her head. “Bold words from one who hid from the battle with the old mares and the cripples.” He shouted back. “I begged to fight. My father chose me to protect the others. You can ask him” he gestured towards the pegasi who’s nose he had broken when he had barged in- “how I did my duty!” “You may have done your job. But you are doing your compatriots no good by offering this foolish resistance. Bend the knee.” He spat. “I won’t! Take our food and be damned, you worthless featherneck!” Misty narrowed her eyes at the racial slur and nodded to one of the soldiers who she must have had standing by for this occasion, as he carried a large bullwhip which he lashed the colt with, brutally across the back. He gritted his teeth but did not cry out as he stared back at Misty. The lashes came, twice then thrice again. On the fourth, as the whipper reared back to strike again, the colt lashed out and delivered him a solid buck in the chest, blood from his back flecking across the stones. The other soldiers moved quickly to restrain him, and one held the tip of his wing to the throat. Butternut could see the sharp blades that the pegasi took for weapons there. The crowd stirred. Misty noticed this. She must have known that a revolt was at hand. And so she nodded again to the soldier. Butternut averted her eyes and as the crowd gasped and someone let out a scream she knew it was done. The other two who had chosen not to kneel did so now. As the young colt’s body was dragged away, Misty resumed her speech. “If there will be no more foolishness, I have need of a party of laborers. We will take our spoils back to the Great Plains and Cloudwatch." Butternut imagined that journey- a thousand leagues at least. It would take months, and they would have to make the treacherous crossing at The Scar, a brutal chain of jagged granite mountains. Misty continued. "Whoever volunteers for this duty will be given a double ration of food and drink for the duration of the trip. Who among you are trained growers?” The hoofs of a quarter of those present went up. Butternut’s did, too. She tended to a corner of the castle garden that yielded squash so delicious it went straight to Rockjaw’s great table. But she was able to steal some for her family, too. Her father appreciated nothing more after a day of labor. Misty took note of the number. “Very well. You will accompany us as well. The rest of you will be permitted to go back to your homes, if they remain. You will each be assigned a new job and will be expected to follow the command of any soldier to the letter.” She took a second to look around before finishing. “That will be all. Volunteers and growers, step to the right. All others to the left.” Soldiers waded through the crowd. Butternut was roughly herded to the right group. Most of the others there were other young peasants. She recognized some from the gardens, but none of her friends seemed to be there. They were shoved further out into the ruined courtyards. The other group was moved back into the keep. As Butternut watched them go, she wondered if she would ever see them again.
The King's CouncilDamned cold. Damned incessant cold. These were the typical morning ruminations of Marvel, personal attendant to Archmage Lumin II. On this morning, that cold drove him to wake, and he rose from his bed and went to the window, opening the wooden shutters and taking in the familiar view. His fortunate location for a bedchamber was in the uppermost floor of Castle Greystoke. He looked out lazily over the distant mountain peaks out in the hazy distance. From the southern slopes of Mount Shine, Greystoke faced inward towards the neigh-impregnable inner circle of forest surrounded by the high peaks that made up the Round Table. They reached towards the sky; sharp, steep things. Their distant tops were obscured by the fog on this morning. Were it not for that fog, he may have been able to see the tell-tale shimmer of the barrier kept up by a constant shift of sworn castle mages. He had only once seen all the way to the other end of the circle, to the looming castle Highguard at the other end. He had just been a young colt then. Marvel leaned out the window, wincing where the cold stones touched his bare pelt. There was a shortage of activity in the courtyards. He thought it typical for a morning such as this. He closed the shutters to keep the draft out and moved to the hearth on the far wall. He thought to use the firesteel, but Lumin’s words scratched in his ears as if the old mage was standing right beside him- Use every opportunity for practice, child. Do not waste life’s offers. And so on, he thought, scoffing audibly. His old master’s teachings held weight with him, though, and so he concentrated on the paper kindling and focused his magic on it. His eye twitched with the exertion. Smoke began rolling off the paper, and a tiny, black-rimmed hole appeared at the center of his focus, but no flame sprung from it. He sighed and instead focused on a more familiar spell- telekinesis, to pick up the firesteel and quickly strike a hot flame into birth. After setting the kettle over the flame to boil, he sat back in the chair, sighing and looking over the meager decorations he had chosen to adorn his chamber with. The bare stone walls oozed trails of red-brown water stains in places, a product of the iron bacteria which was a component of the castle’s ancient mortar. His furniture was rickety and sparse but Lumin had taught him that material desires held little weight in the world. Personally, he found it wrong to use his position in the castle hierarchy to procure expensive trinkets while the commoners below burned their furniture for warmth. He sat and sipped the coffee, a rare luxury that he only rationed to himself on important days- there was a reason he had left the warm comfort of his bed this morning, he reminded himself. A council meeting. The politics used to bore him immensely, but now was a time of much turmoil out in the world and the meetings grew more intense every month. There were some that resented his presence there- what business does a mere colt’s presence have here? They muttered. But he cared not for them. After all, Archmage Lumin was one of the most wise and learned Unicorns in all history, and he was the Archmage’s attendant. It would stand to reason he would sit in on the council meetings to assist the Archmage in hearing and to serve as personal scribe. When it came time, he briskly trotted through the halls, noting how the wall sconces flickered with a draft that no one in three generations had managed to seal. When he reached the council chambers, the guards there took one sharp, synchronized step each, parting their golden halberds to let him pass. He focused a spell on the magical door, watching as it’s intricate cogs and pushrods moved, a mechanism older than his entire family and that he shuddered to imagine trying to fix. The table inside was half-full, but Archmage Lumin was there at his place- a withered, gray-maned old stallion with a dull blue coat. His sea-green eyes still shone bright despite his age, and anyone who thought he was as dull as his appearance suggested was a fool. The old stallion was always first to the meetings. Marvel gave him a dutiful bow and a polite but curt greeting and took his place beside him. He avoided stares from the likes of Minister Lark, who in contrast to Lumin’s conservative appearance wore a silken gown adorned with rubies, a grotesque display of wealth in these times. His horn was wrapped in a thin gold lace to make it sparkle. One would be lucky to have clothing at all, Marvel thought. Let alone that atrocity of fashion. The others filed in shortly. And there came the king’s squire. To announce his lord’s entry, the squire spoke in a confident voice- “All rise for the presence of His Highness King Lilac the First, Crowned protector of Castle Greystoke, Lord of the Round Table and rightful ruler of the Equine lands.” They all rose. The squire bowed deeply as the King strode in. He wore a similar silk as Lark, mercifully without the ridiculous jewels, and he took for his crown a modest golden circlet with the mark of the castle. He was tall and lean, and his sharp horn jutted out from his head. His dark violet eyes scanned the table as he walked to the large chair at the head of it. He cleared his throat. “Ministers. Thank you for your attendance, again. I’ll skip over the traditional pleasantries this time as I believe we have rather pressing matters to discuss. Duke Jian, if you would please.” Jian was Duke of Castle Highguard, the castle built into the northernmost peak of the Round Table. The view from it’s towers provided an expansive panorama of the great forests to the west, the expansive, windswept plains to the east, and dividing them down the middle, The Scar. That mountain chain was nigh-on impossible to cross but for a few choice spots. Jian himself was a small stallion of middle-age, with a well-kept beige coat and a mane of splotchy gold and silver. “Firstly, pressing internal matters continue to make themselves well apparent. We continue to deplete our resources at a rate ever-increasing with the cold. We have less than a year left before we will need to take measures to alleviate this situation. Highguard’s larders are running dry, and as for those of Greystoke-” “I need not a report on the stocks of my own castle.” King Lilac cut him off. “You spoke of urgent developments in the west.” Jian bowed his head before speaking with some excitation in his voice. “A scouting party has reported after a moon in the field, sire. Storm’s Break has fallen to the pegasi forces. Chief Rockjaw is dead, and his line is extinct. The castle keep lays in ruin.” “I hadn’t expected Rockjaw would keep that hold. A dumb barbarian he was, not a battle commander. But this move by High Commander Cirrus is most curious.” Spoke Minister Wick, a grizzled old mare and second oldest present. “Cirrus wasn’t present at that raid. It was carried out by Lord Gale.” Said Jian. “His son?” Lilac asked. “Second son. A curious move sending one inexperienced in command to siege such an important earth tribe redoubt.” Muttered Wick. “Their moves smell of-” “-Desparation.” Minister Lark cut her off, with his conniving, hoighty tone. “Their atrophy finally pushed them to the breaking point. They struck to plunder the castle.” Jian nodded. “And that they have. That is the importance of this meeting. Some of their supplies they move by air, out of our reach. It is not the right time to strike Cloudwatch, not yet. But such is the volume of their spoils, they must move it on the ground. And in order to get from the western forests to the plains of the east..” Marvel suddenly understood. “They will have to cross The Scar.” He spoke without realizing it. Lark’s eyes burned with disdain at Marvel’s speaking out of turn, but Jian nodded approvingly. “Indeed, young one. They must transit The Scar with their goods in tow. Probably using captive labor. Your highness, this gives us the perfect opportunity to strike!” King Lilac had been listening to this all unfold with a keen interest. “For thirty years we’ve kept the barrier. And now you believe is the time to finally strike out at them?” Marvel understood the king’s hesitation. For the barrier was not there to keep out the other two tribes. Militarily, they were no match for the magical strength that Unicorns possessed. The barrier was constantly staffed with the hold’s top mages because every old mare could still tell vivid stories with haunted looks in their eyes- stories of draconys, the great black dragon that had besieged their home a generation ago. The beast had come from the endless wilderness to the west, seeing the Round Table as a suitable territorial expansion, the theory was. The ruins of Castle Blackiron served as a gruesome reminder as to the battle. Marvel’s own grandfather had perished in the battle, he was told. From that day, the Barrier was materialized by seven hundred mages and never had fallen since. Jian nodded in earnest. “We must strike while the iron is hot, sire. The pegasi have lost a great number of their fighting forces and are headed this way right now with food enough to replenish the larders of both castles.” Lilac stroked his beard in thought. “The pegasi nor the earth tribe have seen naught of us for nearly thirty years. But we may soon grow just as desperate as the pegasi were. For all of our magic, still we can not grow the food of the earth tribe.” He turned to Marvel’s corner of the table. “Archmage Lumin. You are quiet as ever. What is your council?” Lumin looked up. He truly had been deep in thought for the length of the meeting. When he spoke, he did so in a scratchy but powerful voice. “We should let them pass, highness.” Wick and Jian eyed him with a curious glance each, but Lark blustered “Have you gone mad, old one? Our citizenry stands to starve and you would let a bounty walk right past our doorstep?!” Lumin gave him a steely gaze. “I fear that you don’t recognize the true threat. We have been studying intently for months. The climate shows no signs of warming. On the contrary, all evidence says that it will only get colder. There will be little use for food when we are frozen to death.” Lark cursed. “It’s the pegasi, it must be. This trickery with the weather is their doing. Somehow-” Lumin shook his head. “It is not their doing. They are not capable of it. Something else is causing this, some magical force we cannot comprehend. Stuck in the Round Table as we are, we can still observe the happenings in the other lands.” Lark scoffed and shook his head, but everyone else at the table stared at Archmage Lumin with a sort of terrified interest. Finally, he sucked in a raggard breath and spoke with finality- “It is unmistakable. With each battle, the land grows weaker.”
The New MissionThe chariot landed roughly, and Gale cursed at the thought of breaking another axle. He stepped out onto the ground, shuddering as the brisk wind caught his face. His neck throbbed, the chill aggravating the sprain he had received in battle. He winced as he turned to look out at the horizon. He could just see the looming white towers of Cloudwatch out in the distance. He nodded to the chariot drivers, who saluted him before taking off. The empty chariot bumped over the uneven ground before becoming airborne. Gale watched it disappear. Custom dictated that he return to the city himself, and he agreed with it- no proud battle commander should return on a chariot. He stretched his wings and took to the air, fighting a slight headwind as he flew. He watched the rough scrub bushes below him streak by. Eventually, they gave way to signs of civilization- ramshackle huts and rough dirt paths. The town beneath Cloudwatch was home to most of the lower-class citizens- those too poor, old, or wounded to live in the massive floating keep resided here. Gale knew that life was a constant struggle there- hunger and raids by roaming Griffon war parties were nearly a part of daily life. Thermals from the sandy plains below pushed him skyward as he approached Cloudwatch. The keep was built three generations ago by Gale’s paternal great-grandparents, and had stood unopposed ever since. Who could oppose it? Griffons were too disorganized and barbaric to form a proper army, and Dragons had no interest in the clouds. Gale landed outside the gilded gates, servants rushing to offer him water and to shine his armor. He brushed them aside- he would prefer his father to see that his victory wasn’t easily won. Moving into the castle courtyard, Gale kept his eyes locked ahead, ignoring the fanfare and applause that had been prepared for him. An honor guard detail flanked his path, keeping a welcome barrier of stoicism between him and the crowd. He ascended the steps of the throne room tower, once again alone with his thoughts as the noises receded. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the massive white doors, ornately detailed with depictions of past battles, that stood as the entrance to his father’s throne room. The first comfort he received was the sight of his family there to greet him. His mother, Spring Rain, wordlessly embraced him, struggling to hold back her tears. “Mother” he murmured, relieved to find that she was still in good health. Then came his younger brother, Shear Wind, and his paternal cousin, Dust Devil. They were both respected commanders in their own right. Shear Wind greeted him with a salute, which Gale returned with a grin. Dust Devil’s preferred method of greeting was to tackle him to the ground. As they tussled, Gale managed to get on top and get his cousin in a hooflock. Dust Devil laughed. “Okay, Okay! I give up.” Gale relented, allowing his cousin to stand up and give him a proper embrace. Gale grinned as he noticed a fresh scar marring Dust Devil’s sandy tan coat, just above his left eye. The pale brown of that eye glinted at him, full of energy. “Looking good, Dusty. Did you get too fresh with one of those mares from court?” He said, teasingly. Dust Devil scoffed. “I wish. This is a token of esteem from a very pleasant Griffon who we caught out on the plains. Don’t worry, I taught that worthless cat-bird a lesson.” “I’m sure you did.” Gale replied, before he remembered the task at hand. He steeled himself and walked forward. His father, Cirrus, sat on the cloudy throne at the other end of the long hall. When Gale reached it, he withdrew a tattered piece of fabric from behind his breastplate and placed it on the ground before bowing low. Cirrus rose from the throne. His father had earned the title of High Commander through blood and ambition, and it showed. His silvery coat bore a hundred scars and his breathing was ragged. “Rise, son.” He spoke, picking up the cloth. He unfolded it, taking in the golden sigil on the forest green cloth- a depiction of Storm’s Break surrounded by great trees. Gale rose. “It is done, High Commander. Storm’s Break is yours. Her spoils are yours. The Earth Tribe’s greatest army is defeated.” Cirrus closed his eyes. “Twenty years, we’ve been fighting. And now it’s over…” He sat back on the throne, groaning at the movement. “Did I tell you the story of the first time we met Rockjaw in battle?” Gale knew the story inside and out, but he shook his head respectfully. “No, High Commander. You have not.” Cirrus chuckled. “Enough with the titles. You’ve been calling me that since I won the throne. You were so young then, you didn’t know what it meant…” Gale shuffled uncomfortably. “Very well… Father.” Cirrus stared off as he spoke. “It was on the shores of the Black Pit- you’ve seen it? The lake seemed to swallow all color. It was cold, even then. Rockjaw met our force with a thousand warriors. Head-to-hoof in iron armor, spikes on their shoes three inches long, they would go right through you.” He paused to grunt as he shifted to a more comfortable position. Gale wondered how clouds could possibly be uncomfortable. “And he won, you know. We were routed. I lost most of my soldiers. But not before I met him in single combat, right on the water’s edge. I gave him that ugly scar and took his eye with a swipe of my wing. Did you see him?” Gale reflected on their mutual adversary. He had been full of vitriol then, in the battle, but in the grand scheme of things Gale almost regretted destroying such a legendary opponent. Rockjaw had been ruler of the forestlands for nearly thirty years, and had a fearsome reputation for it. And yet he had been dragged from his castle keep alongside his sons and put to the blade. He had spat insults at Gale until his last breath. Gale nodded. “Yes, father. I met him. He refused to yield the castle, as you said.” Cirrus coughed, a laborious, dry crackle from his throat. “Too proud. Too dumb, maybe. But I knew my son could do it. It had to be my blood to take that castle. If not Twister, than you.” Gale soured at the mention of his brother, but he managed to keep his outward composure. Twister had been the favorite son. He’d led armies against the griffons and earth tribe, and he had been legendary for it. He was everything that Gale wanted to be. And then disease had cut him down within a fortnight. And suddenly that responsibility that Gale so craved had been laid on his shoulders. Cirrus sighed. “I don’t mean it that way. You’ve proven yourself more than capable now. And now that you’ve been proven, I need you now more than ever.” Gale bowed. “What would you have me do?” Cirrus replied bluntly. “I’m dying. Each day I waste away a little more. I can’t fly for more than a few seconds, and soon I won’t be able to walk either. The time has come to pass on the leadership.” Gale frowned. “Father, I’m far too young to-” Cirrus cut him off. “To rule, I know. The throne is yours by right, but someone more capable should rule in your stead until you gain that experience. Which you will get as the new Wing Commander of our royal army.” Gale was taken aback. This was an honor he had never expected to receive. He thought of words he could use to convey the sense of pride he felt, but decided getting down to business might impress his father more. “What would you have me do?” He asked. His father closed his eyes. “We might have defeated the Earth Tribe, for all intents and purposes, but this world is still full of danger for us. The food you took will feed us for a few months. The earth pony growers you captured can make food enough to support Cloudwatch, but the peasants down in the plains towns…? It’s still not enough for them.” Cirrus’ hoof twitched as he spoke. Gale noticed his father’s movements were shakier and more labored than the last time he had stood here. It was four months ago he had been given command of the force to take Storm’s Break and sent away. Not long, perhaps, but he still felt like he had matured greatly on the journey. But for as much as he had grown, his father had seemed to deteriorate in his absence. Cirrus broke the silence. “It’s bad enough we have to deal with Griffon raiders. We still have the Unicorns, hiding behind their shield. We think they’re planning something.” Gale scowled. “We’ve seen naught of them for twenty years, father. I’ve only met two in my life.” “They aren’t as reclusive as you think. We may not know what’s going on behind that magic wall, but we know they have to eat, too. And now we have the advantage in that area.” “But the barrier. Even if we can outlast them in a siege, we can’t break that wall. It’s made to keep out dragons, not just pegasi.” Cirrus had a hint of a grin as he spoke. “They aren’t as reclusive as you think, I said. For the past year, they’ve been opening a hole in the barrier in strategic places to send out scouting parties. We’ve never captured any of them, but we know they’re out and about, and they’re looking for something.” Gale pondered that, and he had to jar himself back to reality to focus on what Cirrus was saying next. “Your first mission, Wing Commander Gale, is to capture one of these scouting parties. You will interrogate them for information, and you will use that information to determine when the barrier will open next. You will then take a small complement of our best fighters into the Round Table, and from there you will execute guerilla attacks on the barrier mages until it’s weak enough that we can smash through it with lightning.” Gale was conflicted. On one side, this was to be a mission like no one had ever performed. No pegasus had ever stepped a hoof inside the unicorn’s wall. And weakening them could bring an end to the seemingly endless conflicts and secure his race’s superiority for all time. But it was cowardly, too. He preferred to face opponents on the open field and win through superior strategy and bravery, not through subterfuge and backstabbing. But orders were orders, and he would carry them out. He would prove to his father that he was worthy. He bowed low. “Then it will be so, father. May I have my leave?’ Cirrus waved him off. “Go, go. Clean yourself up and break your fast. Enjoy the comforts of home while you can.” Gale rose and wordlessly walked out of the room. His family waited for him outside the throne room, and they looked at him expectantly. He sighed. “I need something to eat.”
The MarchButternut shivered and inched closer to the small fire. She stared into the coals, trying to imagine that she was sitting at home by the hearth, watching chestnuts roast on a flat stone. But the fantasy was quickly vaporized as a crude wooden bowl of brown stew was thrust at her face. She looked up. “Rations.” Grunted the pegasi, before moving on to someone else. She ate the stew slowly, trying to savor what little flavor there was. This time, she stared off at the horizon. The setting sun cast a dull red glow on the lower half of the sky, and she could see the jagged mountain peaks in the distance, like teeth in the mouth of some foul beast. The Scar was roughly the halfway point of their journey, and also the most arduous part. They had struggled through the forests and hills for nearly a month. Each day she carried two barrels of wheat on a crude leather saddle. It was uncomfortable and bulky, and anyone who split their cargo was flogged. The pegasi who drove them were quick to anger, and each of them was in a foul mood about having to walk the entire way. There were rumors that the detail was some punishment for them, and Butternut could believe it. She reached the bottom of the bowl, and kept licking at the wood until it was thoroughly clean. They were fed twice a day, and it was nothing like what they considered food. The stews and hay were supplemented by a crude flatbread that some of the earth ponies had been making in secret, but the whippings if one was to be caught with it made it almost not worth the trouble. Butternut was certain that the confiscated “contraband” went straight into the pegasi guard’s stomachs as soon as they were out of sight. They too were under strict orders to not touch the spoils from Storm’s Break and that only served to worsen their demeanor. She wondered what she would find at The Scar. She had never been that far west before, but she had heard from those that did that the crossing was treacherous and cold. A traveler could expect to combat steep climbs, rockslides, and an incessant icy wind that could quickly take one’s ears and nose. She strained to look south, where she knew that the straight mountain chain would branch out and form a circle where the Unicorns lived. She thought she might be able to see the magical wall she had learned about, but all there was in that direction was more trees and a few wispy clouds in the sky. She supposed it was perhaps a good thing. She had been taught that the Unicorns were a dangerous race to be feared and that their magical powers could level entire armies. If it were not for dragon attacks on their strongholds they could have conquered the world. Now they hid behind that wall and she had never met one. She wondered if perhaps the rumors were wrong, and they might actually be friendly. “Fires out! Get in your bags!” Came the gruff command, and Butternut bitterly muttered that she would prefer the unicorns over the situation they were in now. She unrolled the roughly-sewn sleeping bag they all carried along with their supply cargo and kicked dirt over the fire, struggling to break the frost layer on the ground. She squirmed to try and get warm in it’s absence, focusing on staying still to stop the shivering. She turned over on her back to watch her breath rise, looking at the brilliant sky, speckled with bright stars. Each of them was a sun like their own, she had learned. She wondered if more worlds like this may be out there among them. She hoped that if there were, whoever lived there was having a better time. She drifted off to sleep with thoughts of a faraway alien civilization feasting on white bread and rich golden hay, and frolicking under a warm summer sun. Butternut’s sleep didn’t last long. Seemingly as soon as she closed her eyes, a rough kick woke her suddenly. “Up!” commanded the voice, and Butternut obliged as fast as she could, crawling out into the unwelcoming cold and rolling up the bag. The camp was a flurry of activity. The sun was just rising and the camp was shrouded in mist. She walked to get in line with the other prisoners to receive their cargo. This time, she was saddled with a barrel of apples, strapped across her back. It wasn’t nearly as light as the oat sacks she had carried before. The command to move out came, and they were headed west once more. As they walked, Butternut sensed someone coming up behind her. She turned, expecting a pegasus there to roughly command her to go faster, but found to her relief that it was just Marigold, a mare older than herself, who she had gotten to know in the weeks of their journey. Talking was forbidden, but conversations could be had among the laborers if they were careful enough. “How are you doing?” Asked Marigold, her voice hoarse. “Fine. I hate carrying barrels. At least the sacks match the contour of your back.” Butternut grunted. “I know.” Responded Marigold sympathetically, she herself with a barrel of unknown contents. Potatoes, perhaps. “What do you think it’ll be like?” “The mountains? I suppose it’ll be difficult going.” “No, no. When we get there. To their city. What do you think they’ll do to us?” Butternut realized she hadn’t really considered that. She and everyone else had been so focused on the long journey and the looming mountains in front of them that she hadn’t thought of the end result. “Well, they expect us to grow food for them. We may not be treated fairly, but they’ll keep us alive.” Marigold was quiet from then on. They walked, eyes glued to whoever was in front of them. They passed stands of trees and frozen lakes, and most torturous- a hot spring. They had no choice but to trot past it, each of them freezing and sorely in need of a bath. Eventually the sun began to set, and the command came to set the camp. Pegasus soldiers observed from above as they set about collecting firewood and pitching tents. Butternut herself was on firewood detail. She prefered this most as it allowed a little time alone from the others, and she could walk without the weight on her back. She plodded through the forest, picking up dry sticks and adding them to a stack she was building nearby. As she moved towards a spruce to collect it’s pitch, something caught her eye. She thought it may be one of the others, but quickly she realized that this was no pony. She struggled to make it out through the trees, and it was some distance away, but from what she could see, it was a creature that could not be of the earth. It looked like it was made of ice. It floated, but not with wings like a pegasus might- instead, this thing was wispy, like a cloud, and yet solid at the same time. The most clear feature was the eyes- a piercing, evil blue. She stood there, stock-still, terrified. The monster seemed to freeze her with it’s very gaze. It seemed like an eternity, but eventually, another noise snapped her out of it. She whipped her head around to find a soldier- one of the younger, kinder ones. “What are you still doing out here? Come on, grab that wood and let’s get back.” She turned to look for the ice creature again, but it was gone.
The Secret MeetingMarvel trotted through the courtyard, watching the smoke drift up into the sky. He was headed for Lumin’s quarters, as his master had summoned him with some urgency. This was rare for him- Lumin was typically very reserved and quiet, and typically came calling himself rather than sending a messenger, despite his old age. Marvel ascended the ancient stone spiral staircase that led to the top of the Archmage’s tower,listening to the long echos of his hoofbeats. When he reached the heavy oaken door at the top, he knocked three times briskly, and then stood back. The door shimmered with Lumin’s dull green magical aura, clacking as the deadbolt was released and the door parted. Marvel walked in apprehensively. Lumin sat as his rough old table. A mare was there, who Marvel recognized immediately. It was Antares, who was ten years older than Marvel, and had been Lumin’s apprentice before him. She had moved to Highguard to serve as their castle mage and Marvel had only met her once before- yet she had made a lasting impression. She must have come along with Jian, Marvel thought. He bowed to Lumin. “You summoned me, master?” Lumin nodded. “Sit down, child. I’m afraid we have a matter of great importance to discuss.” As Marvel sat, Lumin’s horn flashed, and the door latched and locked behind him. “You remember Antares, I take it.” Marvel nodded. “A pleasure to meet you again.” Antares cleared her throat. “I wish I were here under more favorable circumstances. The information you receive here is not to be discussed outside of this room, no matter what. If you do not wish to carry this burden, you may leave now.” Marvel leaned forward. He said nothing, which served as a clear communication that he wished to stay. In fact, he thought, he wouldn’t leave this room at swordpoint. Antares blinked, unsurprised. “Very well. Master, shall I?” Lumin nodded, and Antares spoke in a neutral but serious tone. “As you know, Marvel, we have been sending scout parties beyond the wall for some time now. We don’t believe our enemies know of this, but observations from the field have made our situation… troubling. You have noticed the weather.” Marvel nodded. This year’s summer was short and precious few days were comfortable. “We believe that the deteriorating conditions are tied to the battles raging outside. The pegasi forces have been waging a large campaign against the earth tribe, with the largest battle in recent history occurring only weeks ago. At Highguard, we were able to measure an immediate drop in the temperature coinciding with this battle.” Marvel was confused. “What is the cause? Is it the pegasi’s doing, as Duke Jian says?” Lumin sighed and shook his head. “Jian is a fool, and his foolishness may yet be our undoing.” Marvel was taken aback. It was rare to hear his master comment on political matters, and even rarer to hear him speak insults about others. He prefered to stay grounded in the living moment and immerse himself in magic. But Marvel listened as Antares continued. “We can only conclude that this is the result of an unknown magical entity. As you know, Marvel, there is magic in all equine races, not only ours. And all our magical forces are tied to nature, as well. Somehow, the wars outside must be causing an imbalance.” Lumin spoke now. “This could be the end of all of us, should it continue. And now Jian stands to take an army outside our wall and attack a traveling party.” Marvel finally spoke up. “So, then, you wish to stop him? How can we do this?” Lumin grit his old teeth and drummed a hoof on the table. “We cannot stop him, child. Against my council, Lilac has decided to agree with Jian’s plans. The barrier will open and our army will march for the first time in a generation.” Marvel was confused. “So, then…” “Then if we cannot directly intervene, we will follow them in secret and see if we can directly interact with this magical entity. If it can be destroyed, then perhaps there is still hope for us.” This excited Marvel. He had heard stories of the barbarism outside the barrier, but the urge for adventure excited him still. He had seen nearly all the land inside the Round Table had to offer, and the thought of millions of acres outside of it with new and uncontacted races tantalized him. “Would you have me go, Master?” Lumin sighed. “No, child. It is too dangerous for you. Antares and I must go alone.” Marvel’s stomach sank. “But, master…” Lumin leaned in. “You have an important mission here, Marvel. You will need to take over my duties in my stead. It may be many months before I return. Greystoke will need someone of your talents.” Marvel was beyond disappointed with this revelation, but he bowed all the same. “As you wish, Master.” Lumin leaned back and closed his eyes. “I fear that there are a great many things we cannot see. We must use caution in the coming weeks.” He opened his eyes. “You may go, Marvel. Retire to your chambers. I will call for you in the morning.” Marvel got up wordlessly. He walked out and shut the door behind him.
