Quashed

There was much to do all over the country, but the capital had settled down significantly. Steelhorn was faced with boredom, alleviated mostly by long, one-sided conversations with Luna in which she would tell him about things and he would listen. He would continue to stand up and move around from time to time, but all of this sitting was beginning to take a toll on his back.

After about a week of inactivity, Steelhorn took Luna out into the city again. This time was not so exciting, as there was no peril to save ponies from, but it still improved his mood, and kept him from boring holes into the arm of Celestia's throne with the constant drumming of his fingers. When the date was over, he returned to the castle with a smile on his face.

The smile was not meant to last. As he entered the throne room, Boneshatter waited in Luna's chair, a kestrel on his horn and a large scroll in his hand. The scroll was bound with a black ribbon, never a good sign. This was reflected in Boneshatter's facial expression and trembling fist.

"What's happened?" asked Steelhorn, placing his hand on his adopted brother's shoulder. "What's the bad news?"

"In a moment," whispered Boneshatter, trying hard to keep his voice steady. "I've sent for Scrimshaw and Hardtusk. They need to hear this, too."

As if that was their cue, Scrimshaw and Hardtusk rushed into the room, looks of worry on their faces. They were followed by The priestess, as well as the princesses, and finally Arrow, who had been the one sent to collect them.

"We came as fast as we could," said Scrimshaw, his eyes widening at the sight of the black ribbon.

"How can we help?" asked Hardtusk, taking a deep breath and standing as tall as he could.

Boneshatter shook his head, startling the bird that rested there. "This is not something that you can help," he answered, unrolling the scroll. "The damage is done already. I called for you because you need to be made aware of this." He took a deep breath, and began reading. "From Lieutenant Ironblood of House Hournburg to Lieutenant Boneshatter of House Hornburg. Much has transpired in the past week at a much faster rate than can be accounted for. First and foremost, Houses Northwind and Stormshroud somehow convinced the Black Council to push the moot forward."

"What's the black council?" asked Luna. She was intending for her question to be rhetorical and quiet, but with all ears intently listening to the letter, the brief pause had caused a deafening silence broken only by her voice. She shrank down as Steelhorn turned to her, expecting to be silenced, but instead, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"When the king of the minotaurs dies, he leaves an empty throne," he explained. "His position is not passed down to his son, but instead to his advisors. They become the Black Council until the next king is chosen. That takes place at the moot, a gathering of the provincial lords, a few months after the funeral. It often begins in debate, and ends in contests of strength. Sometimes participants die in the struggle for the crown, but it's not often."

Boneshatter continued. "Having not enough time to send a falcon your way, I did what I thought was best, and sent in our stead warriors Pickhammer and Stonefist."

"Fine choices," nodded Steelhorn. "They're very skilled in battle."

"Pickhammer took to the field and accepted the poisoned arrow meant for Chief Steelhorn. As I write this, his body is being prepared for burial."

Steelhorn took a step back, almost falling to this news. Pickhammer was his cousin, a strong and capable warrior whose biggest fault was his loquacity. For his own flesh and blood to fall was an injury, but a poison-tipped arrow was a heavy insult. Scrimshaw placed a hand on his lord's shoulder, a gesture of support should it be needed.

"Stonefist is recovering nicely, however. The bones in his leg have been properly set, and he should be ready to walk again in a few months. There were no other casualties among the moot, and there were few injuries among those competing."

Steelhorn took a deep breath and nodded. "That's good. Few injuries and even fewer deaths is very good."

"There was some fighting among the gallery, however. As Pickhammer fell, Lieutenant Greystar of House Snowcap castigated House Ashwolf for their use of weapons, especially poisoned weapons at the moot. House Ashwolf's representatives were escorted out by the Black Council, but the shooter was not found until he was able to fire off five more arrows. Lieutenant Greystar's wife and daughter were among those killed."

This was another significant blow to Steelhorn. He dropped down to one knee and placed his hand over his chest. Not only had his cousin fallen at the moot, but now his youngest child, as well. House Ashwolf would be destroyed when Steelhorn came to power.

Scrimshaw couldn't console Steelhorn this time. Greystar had been an idol to Hardtusk and himself for most of their lives, and had convinced the two of them to join the Hornburg in response to Steelhorn giving him a daughter. This wasn't a hard decision, though, as the girl Steelhorn had gifted to the snowcaps was the niece of Hardtusk and Scrimshaw. In one sentence, they had lost their niece and their younger sister, as well as being able to imagine vividly the devastation felt by the man that had for so long been their role model.

Boneshatter was the only minotaur warrior still standing. "There is one more bit of news. This is good news, however. Due to the failure of the moot, houses Ashwolf, Stormshroud and Northwind have been barred from succession to the throne. House Gemhide is still in the running. I am also pleased to report that house Stormshroud in particular is under severe sanctions. I shall continue to watch over your people in your absence. Signed Lieutenant Ironblood of House Hornburg."

As Boneshatter rolled up the scroll, Luna placed her left hand on Steelhorn's back and her right on his bicep. "What terrible news. You must be devastated."

Celestia smirked. "I guess you'd better pack up and go back home. It's pretty clear that your people can't function without you."

She was silenced by the thunderous crash of Steelhorn's fist colliding with the stone floor. He had struck it hard enough to shatter the large stone tile. "Return to your rooms, Princesses," he growled, his rage apparent in his voice. Boneshatter stepped forward and drew Luna back, concerned that she may end up caught in the path of it. Likewise, the priestess pulled Twilight away, keeping her out of the line of fire. Hardtusk pulled Scrimshaw into his arms, trying his best to comfort his younger brother despite his own pain.

Celestia stepped closer. "This is why you do not associate with your soldiers, Steelhorn. They die, and you have to mourn them. If you don't know them, then why should you care?"

Steelhorn stood up and turned to face Celestia. She immediately regretted her words as she looked up into his eyes. There were no more whites, they'd gone red. As he snorted, unable to speak, she could swear he was radiating enough heat to cause a rippling effect around him. She tried to take a step back, but was stopped immediately as he grabbed her by the mane and lifted her off the ground. With a final snort into her face, he began carrying her out of the throneroom at a quickened pace. Before the day was out, she would know not to piss off a minotaur lord.