Quashed

Boneshatter reached the gate right on schedule, having run the rest of the way to the Hornburg with Arrow on his back. There was nothing they could have done to save Steelhorn. It would have been a waste of time to make their way to the bottom of the cliff and recover his body. Arrow had argued that he was owed a proper burial, but Boneshatter had urged them onward to the Hornburg. They still had living citizens that needed their help.

Once inside the gate, Arrow slipped down to the ground. Their pace slowed to a walk as they made their way to the throne room. Arrow carried with him all that remained of Steelhorn's pack, including his mace and shield. Upon entry, they were reunited with Ironblood, who had healed from his Equestrian wounds entirely. As the doors flew open, he rushed over and threw his arms around Boneshatter's shoulders, embracing his comrade lovingly. He looked around as he pulled back. "Where's Steelhorn?"

Boneshatter gave him a somber look. "He's dead. On the way over the mountains, the road collapsed under our hooves. He saved our lives. Unfortunately, we were unable to return the favour."

Ironblood nodded and lowered his head. "I see. That certainly sounds like something he'd do." He looked up. "What about troops? Did he send any?"

Boneshatter turned to Arrow. "Just one. Equestria fell apart a month after you left."

"Zebras, yes," answered the priestess. "The whole place was in turmoil on my return. No doubt he left the Equestrian military to fight itself, and protect the princesses."

"He gave them orders to hold the gate until their last ounce of strength fails," confirmed Boneshatter. "Along with the order to surrender the instant that gate falls. He didn't want to risk any harm to Luna. I daresay, he might have actually loved her."

Ironblood sighed. "Then there is no hope left."

"Only a fool's hope," corrected Arrow. "It was a fool move to come, but we all decided to do it anyway."

Ironblood turned to Arrow. "You've grown much in our care. You even talk like he would. He'd be very proud of you." He strode back over to the table. "If we survive, we'll try to find his body. Give him a proper sendoff. But first, we are to honour his memory. He wanted his citizens safe? We'll stand guard in his place."

Arrow nodded. "I'm not entirely sure how well I'll fit in, but if you'll have me, I'll gladly join your archers. Just place me on the wall, and I'll keep that field clear as I can. You can count on me."

Ironblood snorted. "I appreciate your eagerness, but it's not time yet. You'll be alerted as soon as we're ready." He looked up as the door opened again. A very young minotaur, about Arrow's size, came running into the room.

"Lord Ironblood, supper is ready."

Ironblood waved the young lady away, returning his attention to Boneshatter and Arrow. "You are welcome to join my table, if your appetites will hold up," he said, gesturing to the door. "I know bad news can spoil it, but a good meal can help clear your mind."

The four of them left the throne room, adjourning to the dining hall. Arrow had assumed that the dining hall would be the same as in Canterlot, where the important ponies such as the princesses would have a grand hall and a long table to themselves, and the soldiers ate separately. This was certainly a grand hall, and it certainly had a long table, but there were four other tables, equally long, and it seemed as though the soldiers and the commanders ate at the same tables. The only difference was a collection of six chairs in the center of the room that were taller than the others.

The biggest chair was left empty. That had been Steelhorn's chair. To his right had been Boneshatter, and to his left was Ironblood. They each took their seats as they always had. Across from Steelhorn sat the priestess, in the second largest chair. On either side of her were chairs for Scrimshaw and Hardtusk, but Hardtusk's chair sat empty. Arrow was invited to sit in Scrimshaw's place. The chair was a bit too large for him, as it was made to seat a minotaur, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

Their meal was an apple and cabbage stew. The hall was quieter tonight than it normally was, as most of the conversations were concerned questions. What had happened to Steelhorn? Wasn't he supposed to be back today? Who was this pony that was sitting in Scrimshaw's chair? Why was he carrying Steelhorn's weapons?

Ironblood was right about the meal improving their mood. They'd been depressed ever since the fall, they hadn't had the energy to process it yet. As their bellies were filled with the warm, sweet broth, their nerves calmed and they could think clearly. This was not the time for mourning. That would have to come later.

Between the two of them, they were afforded a large bottle of rum for their loss, and for their bravery in returning. Boneshatter drank most of it, but there was still plenty for arrow to drown his sorrows in. After dinner, they went to shower, and then it was off to bed. Boneshatter lead Arrow to Scrimshaw's bedroom, a small room with enough space for a bed and a weapon and armor rack. It was a room for sleeping, recreation was to be found elsewhere. Steelhorn's room was larger, big enough for himself and four concubines, though he usually slept alone. It had been built for his great grandfather, and every lord of the Hornburg had slept there since.

Seeing Scrimshaw's room, Arrow took a deep breath. "This doesn't feel right," he slurred. "I don't want to think I'm replacing someone so important."

"You're not," replied Boneshatter, a bit more steady with his speech. "Not exactly, anyway. We reserve this space for the Hornburg's top ranger. With him gone, you're it."

"I'm no one's top anything. I'm a bottom bitch, and I know it." It took a moment, but as he slowly realized what he said, his face turned bright red. He cleared his throat, hoping that Boneshatter hadn't noticed. "I'm just not comfortable with it, okay?"

Boneshatter chuckled. "Is that so? Or perhaps you just don't want to be alone tonight..."

Arrow turned around and hugged Boneshatter. "I knew you'd understand. You're the best."

Boneshatter gently rubbed Arrow's shoulder. He may have been a crack shot with a bow, but Arrow was still a pony. They were emotional creatures. At the very least, Boneshatter had grown fond of him. There was a very special connection they shared. Neither of them would trade it for anything.

They made their way two doors down to where Boneshatter's bed was. Setting their packs on the floor, their armor and weapons on the rack, and Arrow's clothing over the footboard, the two curled up and fell asleep in each other's warm embrace. It had made their second night together a more pleasant one, and tonight, they both found comfort in it.