FLOW

Sir Quincy had seen many battles, but this was the first time he had ever seen some pony thrown a helmet at another. As he adjusted his monocle on his right eye, he watched in great interest as the two continued to fight. One knight was dazed, surprised at the thrown helmet. The other was a mysterious pony with long draping hair over his face. This stallion was quite unusual, he had medical training before learning to fight, and his stances along with fighting style were all quite unorthodox.

The stallion seemed to be yelling now, a smooth voice carried by the wind: "How frustrating!" He stated, crumpling upon his knee and wincing at the wound. "Why do I have to carry all these duels for you? And for what? A few gold coins? My parents are still innocently trapped in the dungeon!" The crowd watched on, confused, sure that this was merely a backstory to sway them rather than the truth. The other knight got up, patting the dust off his armor. He continued pointing the sword at the helmet-less knight, still wary of any attack. Quincy noted how quick and agile the complaining stallion was, though his strokes weren't strong, they landed well and in the most dangerous places. As he got more angry, the crowd grew astonished as the stallion's eyes seemed to glow red. As he took another strong blow in the stomach, he tumbled to the ground.

"That's it, I've had enough!" He yelled out in an unusually high voice, then he rushed forward, the dust gathered around to match his mood. The other knight was surprised and fell backwards, with a single slice the man broke through his defenses and pointed the sword at his neck. The long-haired man stomped away from the battle, the audience clapping, but he was already ready to leave.

"If you'll excuse me, sire, may I ask your technique?" Quincy inquired, twiddling his mustache, curious to learn how he managed to learn battling well enough to master such a skill. The knight merely ignored him and continued onward, even while Quincy continued: "Er, I'm terribly sorry, but-- " As he grabbed onto his shoulder, he tried to pull him off, only to snag his fancy monocle on his clothes. He could've sworn he saw the knight's face glow a little red though he quickly went forward, leaving Quincy to dismiss this thought as imagination.

That night the knight talked to one of his friends hidden in his tent. "So, Jalmyr, are you giving up?" the mare asked.

The knight thought it through and slowly nodded. "Alas, I learned, there is no honor to be won in battle. Only pain. I thought it was bad in the one war I fought in, but I could only free my mother. Even as I work my ways up the ranks, the leader continuously says my father is still unpardonable. What shall I ever do, Amelia?"

The mare's eyes seemed to sparkle. "Hey, don't worry, us girls got to stick together. I'm sure that we can find something else to do. My sister disappeared quite some time ago, and I'm sure you can help me. My father's not quite as unreasonable as your leader, and I know that he'll help release your father." The knight nodded, ready to set foot forth.

In the morning, Quincy would awake to see outside his window two vague mares walking out. But was one of them a knight? He rubbed his eyes again. Hmm, perhaps he needed new monocles. He thought over how rough the battles were and how the knight he had seen might've wanted to leave because of that. But then he smirked. Perhaps the battles were indeed painful. He had seen maybe unfortunate soldiers lose their life for no result. This knight was lucky in comparison. In his opinion, the true honor was not to win a battle, but to be able to move on and learn upon a lost.