Youngblood

Chapter One

The streets of Canterlot were alive. Equestria’s capital bustled with activity. Ponies exchanged goods on the streets, their stalls lined along the cobble-stone roads like an endless chain of wood and fabric. Each of the stalls selling pretty much the same produce with the odd variation between each of the many streets. The average pony went about their daily business as the crowds surged within the cramped alleyways of the city from one stall to the next. This was common throughout the entire lower district.

Above the ground, stood the strong whitewash buildings that helped to create ‘The Crystal City’s name, each one square and adorned with intricately designed roof work. Occasionally, a puff of ash would emerge from one the countless chimneys as young colts and fillies earned their keep at the orphanage. And across the whole of the lower district, they ran free like mice in a field of stonework.

The middle district held onto what dignity it could possibly acquire, as the occupants continuously tried and outdo each other as to make a good impression on those in the upper district. It was quite literally an uphill struggle, as ponies who attempted such a feat, quickly found themselves in poverty. Still, the residents kept their pleasant way of life for themselves and away from the ‘scum’ of the lower district.

As expected, the grand air of the upper district held its nobility against the keep of the royal palace. Each structure was as well dressed as their residents; clean and jewelled. Fine carriages carried noble figures to and from easily trotted locations as the refined streets sold their gems and other trinkets deemed essential by the most famous of the upper classes.

And rising above it all, the great towering palace at the centre of the bustling city shone like the sun. Canterlot Castle stood proud, the sparkling crystal-white walls maintained by troops of unicorns, reflected the glorious sun like a serine lake at the peak of summer. The many towers rose to the heavens like graceful geysers of stone, each one capped by a royal-blue tiled cone.

And emerging from the inner keep, the royal quarters rose from the mountainside. The entire structure was the same white as the walls and gleamed in the sun just the same. It also sported the tallest of the towers: one had an external staircase and was topped with the extensive royal library, its books dating back to the times before the city itself; one rose to a platform, with no stairs, it would be impossible for any creature that could not fly to ascend up to its summit (which was notably higher than that of the library); and finally, between the two, the princesses’ chambers, containing the two young monarchs that had the power to raise and lower the sun and the moon. All of this overlooked the grand gardens and courtyard, as the most noble of ponies went about their leisurely morning strolls.

All the while, a particularly curious blue unicorn cautiously peered from around the corner of one of the display cases in castle’s museum. The stone floor had been heated by the midday sunshine and graced the pony’s knees with a pleasant warmth. He scanned the room. An imperial guard stood facing rigidly toward him at the entrance to the next exhibit hall. He would not see the unicorn roll over to the next display case; the heat and the knowledge that the day’s work was far from over dwelled in the guard’s mind as he stared out into oblivion.

The room was completely silent; no noise could be heard except for the melodic twittering of the songbirds nested in the expansive gardens bellow. The wooden ceiling blocked all of the sunlight from above, but the great, tall windows allowed their shapes to be cast the breadth of the hall.

He would have to avoid disturbing the cast shadows and remain in the shade. The guard was easily fifteen metres away, still silently staring outward. Despite this advantage, the archway He guarded was no more than a few yards wide, and that meant that the guard would definitely see him if he attempted to sneak through it without distraction first.

The blue unicorn remained under the display case for a few seconds before stealthily crawling under the next. He repeated the action until he was no more than seven metres away and off to the left-hoof side of the archway. Again he halted, he would need that distraction.

From this distance he could easily pick out the many features of the guard: the fixated eyes; quivering from the intense glare of the sun, the dead-pan expression worn by every guard on duty in the castle, the glistening white coat drenched in the sweat of hours of sentry work in the heat and the finely cast breast plate of silver with its decorative designs and freshly polished sheen. And against his shoulder, a long, ornate spear struck upward, the head as if the beak of an attacking eagle who had confused the ground with the sky.

“The usual,” the unicorn thought to himself.

He glanced rightward, looking for any means of distracting the guard. The floor provided no stones or clutter (with thanks to the OCD governed castle cleaners), the wall held no loose material or shelves lined with easily dropped books and the ceiling was… well, a ceiling.

The unicorn’s face dropped a few emotional levels at this discovery until his eyes fell upon one of the cleaning trollies used by the staff at the castle. It was left in the corner of the room and was just out of sight from the guard. The trolley contained an assortment of brooms and other cleaning equipment, plus a doorstop of some kind; possibly a spare.

A plan quickly formulated in the young unicorn’s mind, a simple, but quite possibly a very effective plan. He shifted beneath the display case, readying his magic. There were many objects in the space between him and the trolley and each one provided a distraction to his concentration. Carefully hiding his horn underneath his improvised bunker, the unicorn reached out with his telekinesis.

It took him a few seconds to finally reach the trolley, which started to glow with the same silvery-blue aura as his horn. Then, with a gentle tug, two of the brooms came free, along with the doorstop.

He carefully lowered the edge of the broom handles to the floor as not to make any sound and kept the doorstop hidden behind the trolley. Then he took a silent breath as he readied for the next stage of the plan. Mimicking the hoofsteps of a slowly trotting pony, he began tapping the floor with the broomsticks. He started very quietly, simulating the virtual pony’s distance.

The guard did not budge for a few seconds, eye still locked in place. However, as the noise became less ambient to the guard, his suspicions arose. He had seen nopony enter the exhibit hall from neither his or the opposing side. Therefore, those hoofsteps must have been from…

The guard instantly broke his stance, spear held in jaw as he scanned the room. The blue unicorn winced from closed eyes as he heard the guard become aroused. He was safe, however, as the guard had turned toward the locations of the sound.

He opened his eyes, realising the guard was approaching his Fantasia re-enactment. He stepped up the volume of the broomsticks. The guard now a mere three display cases away; he would be able to see the brooms as soon as he reached the third.

The unicorn stood poised, the guard stood ready and both of their hairs stood on end. Two display cases left, the unicorn felt for the doorstop. “Just a few more yards and…”

Last display case… The unicorn flared his horn, swinging the doorstop from behind the trolley and sending it on a collision course with the guard’s head. Just as the eyes of the guard met the dancing brooms and a “Wha-?” escaped the guard’s mouth, iron met steel as the sound of the collision chimed through the open air of the exhibit hall.

The guard hit the floor like a sack of manure, out cold. The young unicorn smiled in glee as his plan succeeded. Now it was a home run through the archway and into the next hall. He cantered out of his hideout, releasing his magic and leaning against the white stone of the archway, feeling the grooves of the pillar-like supports against his fur.

He peered around the corner. This time, there was no guard to watch the hall. He steeped from around the corner, scanning the room for his target. There. Right in the centre of the far wall, encased in a glass box and mounted on a wooden set of legs lay Arcane Objects and Artefacts.

The book had a faded green cover; turning yellow at the edges, a red ribbon; old but not frayed and solid silver icon on the front cover; a five-pointed star surrounded by a regal reef. It had a majesty quite indescribable to our blue unicorn.

The book was mentioned in the library as being a full guide to every object of archaic importance, however it had become increasingly limited in copies over the centuries and the last accessible copy known to the librarian had been in the Canterlot Castle museum. The problem his curiosity faced was getting into the museum, as then rules stated that no young colt or filly was permitted to enter the museum under any circumstances.

But this was Youngblood; he was no stranger to evading the authority and had developed an increasing reputation amongst the lords and ladies of the castle as the ‘Little Trouble Maker’. The title was used both endearingly and not so by different members. Using what he had learned from his band of street urchins after his parents were killed, he had been able to sneak into the museum unnoticed. However, his taking up of residence within the castle signalled the end of his days as a stealthy scavenger. Now, he longed for adventure, and this book would give him just that.

He was in the clear. He failed to contain his excitement as he galloped full speed into the hall and past the many display cases, much like the previous evasion. He reached the glass box containing the tome. He could hear the knowledge within its ancient pages call out to him, resonating through the glass and the air around him, each leaf of the book singing a single note in the harmony of the entire literature. It was purely magnificent.

Pressing his face against the glass for a second, he gazed with the eyes of a curious colt at the majesty of the book, every detail singing out into the room. This was it. The case lay before him. All he had to do was open it and… He tried the glass box again, again and again. Nothing, it would not open. He quizzically inspected the box, brow furrowed and eyes squinted.

Then he spied it, the lock. It held the lid together with the base, made solely of steel and bolted tight. The easy option would have been to smash the glass, but no. Not only would the sound attract countless guards but it may damage the book. He would have to go through the lock to reach his prize.

Being of vagabond and thief origin, Youngblood held the skills he would need to pick the lock, having been presented with the obstacle many times in the past. This lock was little different from the ones he had beaten previously, only it looked much nicer with its artistic engravings. It released its vice-grip and fell instantly after a few precise movements of the tumblers, his telekinesis serving him yet again.

Now the book was his!

He lifted the glass lid with excited forehooves, the book feeling the fresh air for the first time in decades. Relishing the moment, he lifted the tome from the case and instantly fell to his haunches. He sat in pure awe, the power resonating from the book within his hooves.

He could see his reflection in the silver symbol. His well-kept, brown mane swept over his fore head above his emerald eyes, sweeping across his fur like a wave in a calm pool. His face also bore a single scar down his right cheek; a result of his previous life as a vagabond. His exceptional grin stretched across his muzzle, a bridge between both sides of his beaming face. And his blue coat, the same colour as the summer sky, was highlighted by Celestia’s warm sun.

He felt the power, the warmth, the feeling of achievement and the pat on the back from adventure himself. Wait… pat on the back? More like the sure grip around his left shoulder.

His head darted around to face a stern captain of the guard. His eyes locked in an angry stare with those of the young pony.

“Master Youngblood,” he said; his voice a stern monotone, “you had better come with me.”

Youngblood gulped and allowed himself to be carried out of the archway he had just entered through. The book had been yanked from his hooves by the captain’s magic and now rested in his green, magical aura.

He was lead passed the guard he had knocked out. He was being attended to by two nurses, each with damp towels in their hooves, dabbing at the fallen guard’s forehead.

“You have assaulted a member of the guard, stolen property of his majesty and quite frankly, insulted my very purpose.” He spoke sternly, catching the nurses’ attention as each turned their heads towards the scolding, holding expressions of annoyance and pity for the young colt. “You’re lucky that it was me who found you and not Lord Capital himself! He loves this book more than-” he was cut off.

“More than what, Captain?” A regally dressed pony stepped through the door into the exhibit hall, his purple cloak adorning his perfectly white hide.

“Uhh... Sire, I…”

“That will be all, Captain. Be gone, I shall deal with this perpetrator.”

The captain bowed in acknowledgement and left with great haste, the book levitating away from him, now within the regal’s magical grip. He stood with pride, his head upright and his forelegs completely straight.

He inspected the tome for damage, his purple eyes scanning it over several times before concluding that the book was unscaved. He turned and did the same with Youngblood, though looking more at his terrible posture and sorry face.

“With me young one!” he commanded.

Youngblood complied without voice, following Lord Capital out of the same door he entered. Just as they left he heard the guard wake up and curse him; Youngblood was in for it, he just knew it.

***

“You know, Youngblood, this book means more to me than you’ll ever imagine. However, it holds little importance and so I do not fear for its safety all too much, you understand?”

“Yes, Sire”

“But you must also understand that it is also not an opportunity for you to go on a little mission and disrupt its security, without reason!”

“But, Sire”

“No questions, young colt! I have spoken. You will remain here for the duration of the day; I wish to discuss this manner further with you in due course.”

“Yes, Sire,” he gave up.

“Hmph… Thank you Quill, leave us.”

The beige unicorn stopped scribbling, bowed to his king, and left without a word. Now, it was just him and the Lord Capital. It always ended like this, being sent to the big man after the rant with whoever had caught him. It was silent, the regal pony sat on his council chair staring straight at him, his eyes filled with the cool, disciplinary sharpness expected by such a great figure at times like these.

“I think he’s gone now.”

Youngblood looked behind him; the wooden doors had closed just before the king made his assumption. “You’re right, sir.”

“Are you sure? He could be eavesdropping, you know.”

Youngblood turned to face his king again, his tone partially sarcastic, “I don’t the guards would let him.”

The king laughed heartily, “You’re very good, Youngblood; too good if I may add. Go on then, how did you do it?”

“Do what, Sire?” He joked.

“Seriously, how did you? It’s not every day a guard is taken off duty injured due to the actions of a young colt such as yourself.”

He explained his actions; how he had knocked out the guard with the doorstop before sneaking through. “It was quite simple really.”

The king gave him a look of sarcastic questioning, his left eyebrow almost touching the ceiling. He always loved it when Youngblood pulled off his antics, despite his position and the views of the other castle residents. The truth was that Lord Capital had felt sympathy for the young colt when he discovered him as merely a street urchin. He had tried to swipe some of the king’s food from beneath a table during a street party in the upper district. He was caught, disciplined and brought before the king who ordered that he be locked in prison. Obviously, the king had other ideas and had dismissed the guards to talk to him once he was thrown in captivity. On discovery of his origins, parents’ death and of his talents, he took him in, raising him up as a pony born and bred in luxury. This had left the media in a spin but it was ordered by the king that he had his reasons. And those reasons were very soon to be revealed to Youngblood.

“Well then, that must be seen to; can’t be having… untrusted… criminals breaking in!”

Youngblood chuckled. He loved Lord Capital much like a father, but not in the same way he had loved his real father. One could call it some form of brotherhood they shared. But it was, again, different. In all the time he had spent with the king, he could never begin to describe it, even with the aid of the lessons designed to better his speaking ability, which he never paid any real attention to anyway.

He was of late teen age now, and all he wanted was adventure; adventure into the unknown, the uncharted, the unimaginable. This the king knew, it was clearly evident in Youngblood’s frequent antics, insistence on taking the classroom into the field and his constant nagging for it. Adventure was what fuelled Youngblood’s existence, it the reason why he lived. However, Lord Capital knew well that a life in the castle could not provide that.

Despite this fact, the king just could not bring himself to send his adopted… relative… into any kind of danger. He treated him much like his two children he had already, Celestia and Luna, and the lords and ladies of the castle always referred to Youngblood as his son.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed your little telling off! And if you wouldn’t mind, do tell Luna and Celestia that the banquette is a ‘go’ for tonight. ”

“Yes, Sire. But wasn’t I to remain here?” He turned to leave the room, a grin plastered on his muzzle.

“Don’t tell me that sneaking out would be too hard for you! I’ll tell Quill something to go in his records don’t you worry. Oh, and do take this.” The book was hovered over to him from the great, smirking alicorn.

“Thank you, Sire.” He looked back at the smirking face of Lord Capital, his own grin growing at the receiving of the book and the pure sight of the king’s expression.

As he left, the king began pondering, questions leaping into his mind like gaseous tigers. What had he wanted with that book? Why go to all the trouble? The questions Youngblood left him could only further excite the king, he would just have to wait and see what the unicorn came up with.