Magehold Nights

The streets were as bleak and dreary as always, a light snow fell from above as griffons clad in knightly raiment patrolled the streets. Tired Griffons in scholarly vestments moved from building to building carrying books, alchemical supplies, and the odd ominous relic.

Bolt continued walking home, the city itself was mostly unharmed by the war, seeing as only a hundred desperate knights had made it there, and they were too preoccupied with securing the Shield of Hope to engage in less mission-dictated looting. Still, the presence of occupation was unmissable. The occasional gunshot echoed through the streets as a reminder of where power lied.

It was for this reason that Guiding Bolt stuck to the main roads where things at least felt more safe. Her lodgings, however, were a bit off from the main path; this always made for a stressful jaunt. It wasn’t uncommon to have to make a detour to avoid a fight and a detour in Magehold only tended to invite further conflict.

Thankfully, the trip was uneventful and she made it home. The dormitory she lived in was essentially the same as always, red and black calligraphy detailing dark rituals covered the otherwise gray walls. The beds were old, bloodstained, and occasionally menacing with escaped springs. Several ghouls and the occasional vampire spoke amongst each other. They were clustered around a recently imported radio, looking at the vampire and asking a bunch of questions about life outside of the League. The radio was playing a new-ish Lake City tune, something which the vampire proudly bragged about having heard in person.

Bolt sat down on her bed, taking a moment to rub her temples before pulling a key from a particularly open hole in her bed before opening her footlocker. Inside she’d withdraw a wax-covered disk that was about half the size of her hoof. Placing it in front of her, she’d bow her head and close her eyes, trying to civilize her actions a little. “Lord Arcturius, Giver of Strength, Lord of War, Master of the Forge, Guide of Martyrs, I ask that you recognize and honor the sacrifice of the one before me, allow their death, and this meal to work into your providence, and let it aid in the blessed triumvirate’s continued conflict against Maar and his minions.” She looked towards the wax-lined package briefly before her focus drifted towards an earth pony wearing a sardonic expression.

“You don’t really believe in that do you?” The pony quipped, “I don’t blame you, though, you were one of those suckers they put on ‘reform labor’ right?”

Bolt jumped, looking around “It was for my own good, helping the Griffons whose land we ravaged was a step towards redemption,” the unicorn's eyes scanned the area nervously, praying that the earth pony was alone in harassing her. Her response was regurgitated from what the priests had said at the camps, but she still believed it.

The other mare rolled her eyes, placing a hoof on the wax-covered disk, rolling it back and forth “Arcturius didn’t make you this, and if it's up him we’re going to run out sooner, rather than later.” Flipping it over for effect, the earth pony lowered her head and focused her gaze on the Brain Market sigil indented into the wax paper. “They’re using up the surplus we worked to get and the surplus that we earned before they cravenly abandoned the prospect of a real fight on a creature-to-creature basis. Instead they used the,” the earth pony lightened her voice at this point, putting on a mocking tone “Friendship Shield,” the earth pony rolled her eyes before returning to a more hostile tone “to brainwash one of the greatest minds on Griffonia, if not the world, denying them their deserved victory..”

“Just let me eat, please,” the unicorn replied in a quiet, uncomfortable tone. On some level, she knew that the other pony had a point, the population of ghouls was high, and their consumption needs were comparable to the death rate of the Order, so, even in the most idyllic circumstance where every creature sacrificed their bodies to care for the creatures who, not two years ago, were slaughtering them wholesale, tight rationing would still need to be imposed.

“Just let you eat? I’m pointing out that if you continue to kowtow to the church, creatures like us are going to starve and be wiped out.” the earth pony responded, whatever humor in her tone replaced with indignation. “Creatures like you are why we lost, you’re weak willed and don’t see the writing on the wall, the Griffon’s aren’t going to change their mind on us being monsters, the reformers are just opting for a more polite culling and even they don’t try too hard to police what knights do off the patrolled parts of this city!”

“You’re overexaggerating, I haven’t heard about any of us being killed in cold blood, and instances of violence against us has been reprimanded.” The unicorn replied half-heartedly, she was no stranger to the glares from knights, and the sound of violence but as far as she knew internal controls of the order were just.

“I don’t think I am, how about this, you take a walk off the main paths with me, and if nothing terrible happens, I’ll say you’re right and leave you alone, but when inevitable happens, you’ll admit I was right, and, I don’t know, carry my bags around for a week or something.” The earth pony replied, the lack of determination in the unicorn’s reply cooling her temper back to the cold protective layer of irreverence.

Guiding Bolt sighed, doubting she’d manage any sleep if she didn’t comply with the request, quickly she’d levitate the waxen vessel, open it and devour its contents in a mixture of discomfort and savage animalistic hunger. A few other of the dead turned their heads over to the scent once the seal was broken, seeing as the source was quickly scarfed down they resumed normal activities as the duo left to the dark streets of Magehold.