1: And past death, he wasn’t granted pearly gates.
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1: And past death, he wasn’t granted pearly gates.
I had passed as I wanted, with an honour that most people never had. I died in a fair battle, my skill was beaten, my pride bruised. And I laid, blood gurgling up from inside.
My shield laid cracked in two on my chest, indented, worthy. I’ll die with it in my grasp, enemies may struggle to separate it from my grasp. It hurts, worse than hours of sparring, wooden blades have nothing on the real deal.
I am cocky, blinded by a light of war, the thrill of pain was glorious. I enjoyed hours of conflict without end, I was bred for conflict. With each swing, each report, every attack I tried to throw over a shield. I’d die a fools death, worn down and attacked on all angles.
But I died viewing my enemy in their eyes, all that shown in them was a rage against me and who I fought for. He fought for himself, his keep, the villages surrounding it. I had died in honour of a lord who understood me, who fought alongside us.
We were his knights, and he was our leader. I know he'd demand my burial rights, a peasants burial is what I wanted. I didn't wanna be buried with my steed, she'd live on without me. No, I wanted to be buried with my sword and Shield, armour, where I was going, would not be needed. It would slow me down, walking to meet who created me.
Meeting our creator, whoever they are, I hope they understand my doubts, my insecurities and all my uniqueness. I screamed out one last time on the battlefield, the white armour I wore stained from conflict, my blood mingling with the ones I've slain.
My grasp released as I finally faded away.
The Unicorn Knight has finally died.
“What happens when I die?”
“I don't know, depends on your beliefs young one, I was one to believe anything was possible if you believed hard enough.”
I felt clean, unphased. My mouth didn't taste death, blood didn't stain my mouth, all was clean. I was in the grass, the feeling rubbing up against me felt wrong.
I blinked open my eyes, clearing the sleep from them was no easy feat. I was tired, my body ached from weakness. Yet I didn't feel a sword grasped in my grip, not my heavy than average shield resting on my chest.
I couldn't feel my fingers, had the bastards cut them off? Leave me fingerless in the afterlife?
Then my eyes focused and I could see, I could see that my vision was different, the world seemed to be viewed from a wide lens. Like a cathedral and its open door, the closer you get the bigger the outside world will seem.
But as I focused forward I saw it extruding in my vision, a pearly white-furred muzzle. Equine, my angle meant it was coming from me. I wasn't in some afterlife, I was in a place where I am such a lovely creature.
I've heard stories of dying men seeing what they always wanted before they passed away, but this felt different somehow. Very different, I've seen the light brought about for me when I had first been injured. I had hoped for a unicorn to save me as I was loaded onto a cart of corpses, fictional creature or not, It was then after I had finished that prayer that the horse pulling the cart ran.
My less dignified escape was seen by a few on the hill, they said a rat of large proportions had spooked the horse. But I know deep in my heart that the creature had been urged by something greater to move, a belief unlike any other.
I unsteadily raised what should have been my arm into my vision, the foreleg of mine came into view. Pearly white like the rest of my fur, a great scar rested on it, long healed enough that I had to focus to see it over all the fur that healed around it.
The scar on my leg jolted something in my mind at how I must look. I must look like the visage of a unicorn I hand-painted onto my hand forged shield. I take great pride in my craftsmanship, in all my battles I'm able to paint the unicorn back. All the scratches over it painted over, ring chips fixed, dents from great hammers, all fixed with grace so good I sometimes felt like I was in the wrong profession.
But last battle and my shield were scratched to oblivion, I hope the one who fixed it had a steady hand.
I breathed deeply in, not smelling the smoke from where I was mere moments ago. I rolled onto my chest, well the terminology would be barrel now I believe. I glanced back behind me and paused. Besides the rainbow tail that had shiny flakes of metal or something, there was an image on the flank. Well my flank, how exciting actually!
It was of a teardrop shield, image on the shield was a cartoony half-sun and half-moon. Behind the shield was a sword, the hilt was familiar, but confusingly there was a forge hammer. I know how to use it, of course, I do, I forged it myself. All my tools, plates of armour, I even forged my sword.
The only thing I hadn't forged was my shield, salvaged, a gift from my past that I had improved with time. Small metal reinforcements in strips, ridged and bumped. Most people expect the blade to clash off and stumble away, but striking an uneven surface causes an effect that you can feel in your shoulder. An uncomfortable ripple, it's creativity like that, creativity that meant I was still around to fight.
But for all my advancements, the world of the knight was closing fast, weapons of black powder made armour smiths worry. Each hit from them would be your last, it's for the best I died facing an enemy I could see rather than die undignified laying in a ditch, my blade probably wouldn't have been drawn.
I stopped thinking and focused on moving, my body worked differently, no standing on two legs, back legs probably won't bend that much. Slowly I got my back legs up into a standing position, before I stood up fully I had a good look underneath myself.
I collapsed back onto the ground with a dull thud. The pony on my shield was sorta feminine, but I had kinda hoped it didn't transfer. But yeah, I'm a girl now. Internalize the pronouns, it'll be Archer all over again. No slipping up on her pronouns, though them hiding as a man was brave or was stupid, and coming clean was also stupid. But under his suggestion, she was welcomed back fully.
If she has the strength to openly come out to everyone with a two-year long-secret then I can be a girl pony to fulfil my dreams. On a scale of escalation that’s pretty high, no feather weighed can break that big a jump of mental gymnastics.
I stood up slowly, the tail fluff was quite fluffy, true to the way I had it painted on my armour. I breathed in a deep breath and looked around. Rolling hills surround me, blocking my view of what may be beyond them. What lies in the land of the unicorns? How did I end up here? My faith was strong, but what god had truly brought me here? What one would forgive me for the deaths I caused on my blade, forgive and let love enough to grant me such an honour.
I took an uneven first step, sketching horses in the fenced-in yard helped me know how to move my legs when I walked. Though balance was something that I struggled with, I would not be running anytime soon, in a world of the afterlife why would I need to run?
The bottom of the smallest of the hills surrounding me was suddenly a lot steeper to me. I’ve fought off men ten times my strength, I’ve taken down siege towers with only my shield and sword. I won’t let a hill stop me, not when I’m so close to seeing the world I was placed in. The world and experience that was gifted to me.
I took two steps up the hill before I stumbled back, landing with a dull thud I had hit my head. And felt something I was not surprised about, confirmation of the fact I was the drawing on my shield. A slender longhorn was atop my head, everything about it screamed to me that I should not let it take the full force of my body as it did a second ago. I shook my head, dirt-covered my head as I regained my footing, hoofing? Whatever you may call it, I stared at the hill and grumbled out many unrecognizable words.
Are words unrecognizable? I only know one language, and I’m fluent in it.
“Fick mich in meine Stutenflanke” I spoke it as though I was a novice at it, none of the words made any sense to me, not even a hint of recognition fluttered in my mind. Well except for the curse word and the word Stutten. It shouldn’t have been this bad, but it was bad, I don’t know my language anymore, the one language I know.
I can’t speak it anymore, it’s so very bad! I just feel an uncomfortable rage inside me, this hill was an opponent equal to me currently. I slammed a hoof into the dirt in anger, tearing out a chunk of the dirt rather satisfactory. I smirked and managed to side shuffle and smacked the dirt again, ripping out a bigger chunk of dirt and grass. It honestly felt good, like hitting a sparing dummy to focus and clear the mind.
I did it again and again until it got hard to walk in that direction with my wonky balance and the many uneven holes. It was releasing, a new body granted to me, and I lack the coordination to walk up a slight hill.
And now I’m hungry, do unicorns eat grass? Will I get kicked back to some lifeless existence if I eat grass? Is there a bad type of grass? There probably are, just like how Morning Glory and Saint James flowers are dangerous and potent if used wrong.
And I'm still sore and worn out. I'll sleep and think on it for a night, to dream, of what? My dreams have been fulfilled, all that's left to think about in the past. And that's gonna be uncomfortable because of my many changes, and also gender change. That's a big one, though it ain't eating away at my mind as I would have thought. It should right?
It doesn't matter, do I sleep standing up or will I be okay to curl up on the floor? The grass doesn't make me itch, it's welcoming, like a warm hearth after long marches.
“Why does the Unicorn Knight pledge themselves to me?”
“Home to rest my blade, no more mercenary work, a proper stable for my girl, and honour in service.”
“You will find much more here than just what you seek, but I ask again, why specifically me?”
“With great respect, I honestly just like the tapestries more than other places.”
I awoke in a dream state, everything felt visceral. The world folded out around me, I started out at a burning town. And I looked down at myself, I was the current me. But I stood over the past me, their hand grasping the shield tightly. My painting on it smudged with dirt, mud, blood.
I looked at my old me, the shield broke in two, right down the middle breaking the painting into two. It's technically a self-portrait, just hadn't known it at the time. I stepped forward, this dream bending the rules of myself as I stepped without stumbling to my old self. I stared down at myself, all of my graceful death, and my golden curls.
I looked at my rainbow tail and couldn't help but be upset over that, not that I was staring at my old dead self, no I was upset over my hair no longer being golden locks. But I don't cry long, I sniffled once and stopped crying. I heard the sounds of hoof falls in snow, I didn't know what to think of the creatures this dream may possess.
The awake world may be paradise waiting but the dream world may be filled with the demons expelled from it. I looked down once more and made a decision fitted for a lord, new body, I won’t be going back under any circumstances.
I slammed a hoof onto my corpses hand, the hand breaking into chunks of gore as I pulled the blade out from my old grasp and into my mouth. The taste of battle was rank, but it's my blade, a rose in the crossguard, hours of work, weeks of practice to get it quite perfect.
I turned to face a pony who was rapidly approaching, but as they got into view the corpse on the ground changed, with subdued horror the body that was me changed to that of a white pony, their mane a dull red colour. Though the sparkling metal like items glistened in their hair as mine did. A butt mark of a strange straight blade, but none of that mattered at the moment.
I turned around with the blade in my mouth, and parts of my mind went into work. Parts that I figured translated over from previous experiences, though how they applied to this body I didn't know.
I adjusted my stance, twisted my blades angle facing outwards slightly up towards the sky. The black inky dream state sky. I could feel the atmosphere change as an imposing force of an outline walked towards me. My mind raced, launch a preemptive attack, jump high enough and you can get to the back of their neck, dodge whatever weapon may be at their front. I waved away those thoughts, this pony needs to be heard or else they wouldn't walk towards me in a straight line if they wished to fight me.
They stopped before they got close enough for me to harm them with my blade, his blade? No, it's still my blade, a different body changes none of that. This pony was easily bigger than I was, behind them was a wingspan larger than any I've seen or heard about in any fairy tale. The horn on their head was long, slender. A winged unicorn? Fascinating, to have paper or canvas to draw this out, but this dream realm may not want me to do exactly that. Then they opened their mouth to speak.
“My Little Pony, what is causing you such fears, to imagine all of this? A dead pony at your hoofs and a city burning behind you.” They spoke so regally, I was in the presence of royalty, I could tell from their voice alone. I bowed down to them in the most humbling way I could think of, it felt undignified still, sticking my rump so far into the sky. I meant to speak but I was afraid the moment I dropped my sword I would lose it, even holding it felt connecting.
This royalty didn't wait for an answer, they stepped past me, their horn glowing. And with the sound of broken glass, the visage of a burning village broke into shards. They turned towards me curiously.
Their horn glowed with luminosity as they tugged at my sword, via a vague glow and powers that sorcerers have said many times that they have. And yet here I am face to face with more magic than I've ever seen. I held my blade firmly, much to the dismay of the royal. They quit tugging and looked at me recognition crossed her face as her horn flashed a bright blue quickly.
A thin section of me was illuminated brighter than fire itself. I thrashed for a second maintaining my ability to stand. Before I stopped as the light faded, placing my eyes precariously onto the leather strap around my body, resting there was a rather simple looking Scarborough. I sheathed the sword and looked at this royal. How would I introduce myself? My name is in a language I can speak but not understand.
Fake names maybe? But being dishonest with her seems wrong on an emotional level I can not tell. I breathed in looking at her, the fate of my time here depends on what I say next. “Heylo-” The ears on my head went flat, very bad time for a voice crack, extremely bad timing.
“I had expected an adult would behave better than a little filly, scared out of your mind, your only comfort being a sword that you held with trained prowess. Historians are so-” Something told me to connect what she had said, I ain’t no historian, I was what historians would write about in hundreds of year's, write about the other me, as my legend here has yet to begin.
“I'm no Historian, I'm a roaming Blades,” I paused looking for some words of encouragement, something at all. “Master, I'm a master of the blade, from smithing to usage and training.” The royal cringed, reaching a hoof out and lifting my head to look me in the eyes.
She smirked slightly, “Then tell me your name, so I may ask for your services on an item I need.” She took her hoof away letting my head sink downtrodden. I haven't got a name she can call me. All this and I don't have a name to say. Did I ever have a name to be called by my friends? My Brothers in arms? They just all called me Unicorn, did they ever actually care enough to ask my name?
“I am, uh,” My name to me is dead if I don't know what it means in the slightest. “You may call me Traverse Bläde, it's what I call myself.” Half-Speak the meaning of telling lies without lying, certain phrasing and you may pass all truth questions. It’s wasn’t my name, but it will pass as a new name, as odd as it is to say.
“Well I'll make sure to meet you with a bargain, I feel different, armour has been worn out, will you be capable of fixing it?” They asked, the armour they wore was strangely shaped, more of a chest defence, no actual armour design that can be practical. But it has some telltale signs of age like the armour had been unused for many years.
“Strange composition, but I may be able to fix a few fixes if I know the heating strength needed to mould it, also whenever I do figure out where exactly I am.” I paused as the vague black void around me. “You wouldn't happen to be able to tell where I was if I told you a vague description now would you?” I walked slightly towards the royalty and bowed down.
“I see the world around where you sleep, a traveller without even a cover to cover themselves, what would you do if it started to rain?” She asked me as the void of blackness faded away replacing the world with the ground I had fallen asleep on. All the little indents in the grass from me hitting the earth repeatedly.
“You are the small knolls surrounding a place called The Abbey, warriors of the past came there to participate in rituals, but now it's just an Inn.” She pointed off in the direction opposite of the hill I tried to walk up. “In the early light head there, you can stray to follow the old traditions, a blade master should do the rituals right?” She looked at me with a smirk, something tells me that I should not disobey her ‘suggestion’.
“If I scream would someone come to find and help me back? Or would I be on the edge of somebody's aggression?” She looked perplexed, slightly frightened maybe. Nonetheless, she answered. “Unless you did something to warrant their anger, then all they would be upset about is you waking them up.” If this was any different then I would let a lord speak for me, but I am in a new world, forging a story of my choosing, not swearing my blades to any person, or well anypony.
“And what can I call you royalty?” This surprised her more than anything, as though I had just punched the court jester for picking on my scar brand.
“Princess.. Luna?” She practically mumbled out barely seeming to understand as I frantically prepared out the morning. Maybe if I learn how to run then I can just tumble up the hill with enough force.
“I’ll see you later Princess Lunar. Princess of the dream realm.” She practically reached out to steady me as I frantically tried to wake the sleeping visage of myself on the floor.
“Have you escaped a mental asylum, are you related to a Screw-” Her voice faded away as the dream realm stopped existing.
“And why must I bow to the royalty of a land so far I'd die before my steed arrives at their gate?”
“Royalty of all types, scribe requires respect unless you decide to try your luck. Your luck is your most potent item, you can off-put a royal with the right words. Topple the throne metaphorically.”
“My name is Sash Adeir, though you can me Glitter. Don’t call me just Scribe, improper language as is.”
“Whats a glitter Sash?”
I woke up frantically, stumbling to my hoofs, the balance and grace of movement I had seen in the dream realm was absent in the waking world. All I could feel underneath me was grass, the grass I was somehow feeling through solid pearl white hoofs?
But that hadn't mattered all at once, it was secondary. My bashful nature had been brash towards the royal, off-putting them gained me precious info. Location, and a way to get out.
“Help me! Someone please!” The tone of my voice made me cringe, but it sounded desperate.
The noise was replaced by two thumps behind me. Wings flaring as I looked in the low light at a pony with bat wings and horrid little fangs.
“Hey, are you-” My hoof connected with their face in pure reaction, a creature with dragon wings just landed behind me.
They stumbled, and then a sword was drawn from a scarborough on their side, the rose in the hilt, the imperfect blade. It was my blade, far from my burial and home.
“You just hit the knight of The Night, apologise or face my wraith!” I smacked them again, their wings going out before they fell forward.
Great, that's a rescue failed. My own, for once I'm the damsel in distress.
2: No Mercy was granted for those who could fight, but wouldn't.
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2: No Mercy was granted for those who could fight, but wouldn't.
2: No Mercy was granted for those who could fight, but wouldn't.
Rescue, that was what I had planned to happen. But no, I smacked them for the pure fact that was their wings. Who am I kidding, I couldn't trick a lord with such a blatant lie.
The reason I hit them after the first time was for my blade, though it's different than mine, somehow it's older. And its weight is off rather significantly, as though it's meant to be more weighty.
Prying it from the dragon winged pony's mouth was no easy task, their grip was formidable. But after plenty of tugging, it had come free. So I now had my blade, and nothing else to my name beside a direction to walk in. Towards this “Abbey.”
I would go back to sleep, but that would leave me at the mercy of whatever, and at the mercy of this pony. I'm no longer tired after my experience with this Princess Lunar, probably went crying to a queen that they were disrespected so badly.
So I paced, balance improving, enough to make it up the small hill that had bested me earlier. Coming back down was a struggle that sent me rolling down the hill in a rather unfun way.
Undeterred I'll pace till they wake.
He awoke groggily, at first dawn as well. It's been around five hours since he’s been unconscious. All I could imagine was how upset they would be, beaten senseless by a pony who had called out for help. They had called themselves a knight of something, I can't remember exactly what they had said. But they were a knight like I once was.
They looked confused, their face easier to read than I would have thought they would be. Each flick of the ear meant something, and all I could tell was their confusion was turning into rage.
I bit the handle of my blade where I had embedded it in the ground. It came up in a splatter of earthen dirt as I approached the pony, their leathery wings fully spread wide. I couldn't help but point out in my mind how flaring out your wings just leaves them open to assault from all sides.
It's a defensive stance if I've seen anything. The pacing had been a worthwhile practice, my balance had been improved dramatically, though I still don't trust myself to walk to this Abbey without any form of help.
He opened his mouth, before closing his eyes, tilting his head then breathing out. Calming his nerves, preparing to speak. “Why? You have called for help, then,” Sharp inhale, “You assault me, then steal the Abbey Blade, at least you have the courtesy to kill me whilst I'm awake.” The Abbey blade? I'll have to ask the Buildings caretaker about the history of my own blade, it would be quite an interesting story I'm sure of it.
“Kill you? Here? Why would I draw your blood in this wonderful land?” I asked, somehow managing anything with the blade in my mouth, in as much of a kind tone as possible, curiosity inside my mind deafening. And yet I couldn’t possibly have it any other way, curiosity is a great motivator and driving factor.
“Right, your kind has been carefully sheltered less they be hurt, probably never even,” They stopped mid-sentence looking at my flank, before smirking. “Blacksmith, I’m guessing, maybe Royal Guard, never seen you exactly.” My tail subconsciously moved to cover up my mare parts as I held my blade, before sighing and dropping it out of my mouth.
“No, call me Traverse Bläde, sorry for hurting you Knight of, I can't remember what you said, not for God himself.” I turned to the direction of this Abbey, making an elaborate show of moving in that direction. He got to his hoofs and moved in front of me, I struggled to not look where their stallion bits would be. Only been a mare for so long and I’d already accepted liking stallions. Does that make me gay?
No.
“Knight of The night, unofficial of course, Princess Luna rules the night, doesn't matter which part of her does.” They spread their wings, their Scarborough underneath their wings, with an elegant grace they attempted to sheath my blade. They missed and cut into their fur slightly, at the slightest cut they scream out. It's a mild wound, compared to what I have seen and done.
I continue to walk forward, climbing up is easy, going down is what will be the hard part, granted I won't have too much trouble. Of what I believe to be true. They whimpered, the blade going in properly as they took something from a pocket on the Scarborough strap, a salvo of some type. They spread it on the wound. And then approached me.
“Are you emotional numb, or have you hit yourself so much with some blacksmithing hammer that you don't think twice about pain?” They backpedalled in front of me as I walked forward, the downhill section was daunting, but with them walking backwards down the hill, I found it easier.
“No, not emotional numb. No to the hitting myself with the hammer, that still hurts, especially when you're worn out and just wanna be done. You can't just put it down and start back up.” These knolls were plentiful, I had conquered only one and found myself in a near replica of the bowl area I had started in. There's a tactical advantage obviously to building a defensive area in such uneven terrain, you very well can't get door breaching equipment through here, without using their careful guarded road.
“Then why we're you so indifferent to me being hurt, last time I've done that three ponies passed out, and one of them I had dated before.” They shivered as they said that, but I barely paid attention, focusing on climbing the hill, taking time to pause at the top. The red clay shingle roofing of this Abbey is visible from here, if I were to run as the hawk flys I could get there in an hour. But I can't even run, a rough estimate is that this will be a day travel accounting for my uncertain steps, and my inefficiency at walking.
This Knight of the Night seemed eager almost to stay beside me, ask questions, more attuned to a scroll writer more than a knight. With my blade, somehow. “Hey, it's rude to not answer a question. I'm sorry if I'm bothering you,” They turned ever so slightly to block my path before turning to face me. “Actually I'm not sorry, you hit me, into unconsciousness that wasted a perfect night flight, now I'm gonna have to sleep and hope my sleep schedule recovers.”
“I'm not sorry, you had wings of a dragon, and-” He interrupted me by putting a hoof to my muzzle.
“Their bat wings, I'm a bat pony, that's just, the wrong shape and form for your information. But you should know that the only reason I assume you don't know is that you are a foreigner.” They didn't move, keeping me from continuing. I sighed and gently sat down, it felt wrong so I shifted until I was sitting on my haunches comfortably. “But you lack a curved horn, you have a cutie mark so that immediately rules you out for Saddle Arabians. And did I mention you don't have a curved horn?”
I finally opened my mouth, avoiding answers by giving questions yourself is 101 for aspiring communicators. “Is there a way to possible expedite my current endeavour of reaching the Abbey?” I asked the question, and their face went from confused to shock to pure unbridled, hehe, joy.
“Sure thing. Anything for such a mysterious mare like yourself.”
“And what do you think God would think of your actions?”
“Which one?”
“The one with the red cross people spreading it.”
“I think he would laugh at me, then feel pity at me being branded with my shields image.”
“I think they would smite you. If they exist of course. Maybe a God of the dreams can kill you in your sleep.”
Flight.
Put me back fucking down.
The ‘Bat-pony’ flew at breakneck speeds, diving and such. Obviously taking pleasure with each screech I make as they bank, their grip barely holding onto me.
They tossed me up into the air kicking and screaming as they ran along a cloud, barely catching me at the end of the cloud.
I was gonna die having fallen from the sky. My breath got stuck in my throat as each time I open my eyes I'm presented with the image of the ground whirling quicker than It had even unironically on horseback. But here I am being held around my barrel and carried relatively easily.
“Careful now!” I screamed as he slowed to a hover. My breath jumped from my throat so fast I swear I would choke on it. I daren't move afraid that would make him drop me. It didn't help he was a male carrying me under his belly.
“Afraid I’d do this?” I didn’t know how high up we were, I don’t think he knew ether, as he opened his legs up and let me drop.
I assumed he thought he was further away from the Abbey than he was, maybe that he was higher.
I passed through the first cloud as he lazily chased down after me. Unfortunately under the cloud was the roof of the main building of the Abbey.
Clay tiles shattered as I slammed into the roof, first my hoof bent in an unnatural way, before smacking my horn on a tile.
Then the edge approached. The ‘Bat-pony’ did their best to catch me, but managed to only hit me in the flank hard, slamming me into the wall before I hit the floor harder.
And karma was a bitch as my vision faded to black.
“What would you do if I stole from a farmers market?”
“Make you return it in person.”
“From a lord that ain’t our own?”
“Place the item near where it was, they think that they lost it and are none the wiser.”
Are they dead? Did I just kill a pony?
I had dreaded this moment, I had expected it to be somepony so far gone in life that its the last thing they wanna do, to feel something maybe. But yet this wasn’t what I had imagined.
I thought I had flown past the Abbey, the cloud was way too low, the clouds need to be higher, that’s the only advice I wanna give to that weather team. Besides more overcast days and more rainy days. But that’s only a preference, nothing to bother the weather team about.
They aren’t laying on the ground screaming, they're just laying there. I failed to catch her twice, the second time I had hit her into the wall. What if that had killed them, not the fall?
No.
I’m not gonna be responsible for a death. Not on my watch.
I dived at the ground, flaring my wings last second in order to not smack into the ground. Even though I deserve it.
They're still breathing, it seems laboured, as though there's something wrong inside them. I don’t know how to fix that, I’m not a doctor, I slash and stab things now. Everything about this, I've screwed up so badly. Celestia and Luna help me.
Oh, what am I gonna do? I'll take him to the nurse, maybe she can do something?
“And what would you do if I fell?”
“Laugh, and smile about it, but help you up.”
“But what I die falling over?”
“I wouldn't be able to tell, is be laughing at a corpse before I find out, the guilt would eat at me until my death.”
“Can I laugh if you slip in the mud during conflict?”
“Nein.”
Ouch.
I awoke in such indescribable pain. Head injury, chest injury, legs injury. And that's only what I can feel, what matters is if everything inside my body is fine. If not then we will have issues, if their medical knowledge is on the same level as the place I used to belong to.
But I find myself feeling strange. My leg is covered in something, my back leg to be precise. There is something in my front leg, not a leech, a thin line of string. No not strings, but more like an alchemist's alcamator. There is my own blood moving through it, like a letting of my blood, or maybe not?
A pony approached, a different feeling about them. Their very stance clashed with earthen tones of the building, white and a simple white hat on their head with a cross of red. Much like those religious zealots. I won't drink to your God unless you raise a pint towards the idea that we were created by some cosmic accident.
The image on their flank matched the one on their hat slightly, born into your religion, indoctrinated at birth into what you believe. A cruel fate I guess. Though they wouldn't know any better.
They moved carefully towards me, before halting slightly in front of my vision.
“You are kinda lucky we were even here, my shift had a mandatory company outing.” They looked at a chart, the sheets stacked one on top of the other. “They have the materials, but lack an actual doctor, the one on staff put ice on your leg, and just kept it at that!”
They looked stressed, as if being here was driving them crazy. No, looking at the charts, the white thing on my leg, that’s when they seem happy. No they seem to be stressed at the premise of not working, a workaholic dragged away from work. I’ve had people have to drag me away from the forge to eat or dare they try it, sleep.
“Then don’t get me started on you, something is wrong with you, you mumble Zebra or some crap in your sleep, and you can’t help but try and roll over in your sleep.” They paused looking at the doorway. “And don’t get me started on you, your healing seems to be all wrong, you heal slowly. You bruise easily. I would say you had thin blood, but your blood clots.”
She held up images, in such detail that it looked like I was looking in a mirror. My skill could never match that.
“Your cut all over, the buildings tiles shattered and you were cut, pretty enjoyable cutting areas of your thick coat for bandaging might I add.” I swallowed at that, and opened my mouth to get my first word out at them in the whole time I’ve seen them.
“You cut my fur? But I’m a unicorn, my coat needs to be-“ They cut me off with a snort.
“I’m drunk right now, I’m usually as professional as AppleJacks Apple Cider. Hard but, even if I was sober I wouldn’t let that comment pass me by.” They coughed and gagged for a second, muttering about never taking that bet, before raising their head back up. “Unicorns aren’t a master race, if you were an earth pony, that fall would have probably just sprained your leg, not broke it as badly as you did, the ribs would be sore not broken as bad as they are.” And then they looked at me with blood shot eyes.
“I’m gonna go back before the bouncer realizes I left the drunk tank, but do yourself a favor.” They hiccuped. “Don’t challenge that purple Kirin to a drinking competition, and don’t drink hopping to get blackout so you won’t have to participate in tomorrow’s trust fall activities, as I know that I’m still gonna be here, and hungover.” They hiccuped again and I couldn’t help but smirk.
Reminds me of myself at the first few feasts I have been at, drink and hope you're too drunk for corpse duty. Your gods can keep you safe, but they can’t stop you from looking at the destruction you caused.
And with a few stumbles, the hornless surgeon pony left with less dignity than they usually had. I can only guess that from the way they tried to hold themselves. I've met surgeons who treated life as a puppet game, and they did the best stitching as they didn't worry about you dying. They only worry about one less play member.
Evh, I've thought worse whilst being laid up. I've been branded on my neck, no scarf can hide your indignity for long, eventually, you gotta walk out without the scarf on. I've walked with a limp after a hammer was brought down on my leg, no armour can protect your leg from that force. And yet I count my blessings, no brand on my neck, no limp, and my vision is better. By long strides am I in a better life.
No matter who or what decides to drop me from the sky, an experience I wouldn't wish upon the worse of my enemy. Well, I can't say that winning through whatever means that if I could I would drop a pony onto a roof. Theirs a limit, I've just yet to find it. A limit of how far one would go to kill. Powder, that's the limit, theirs is not much that can be done against it. Rushing a line is suicide, so it limits yourself to interesting tactics.
God, I'm really fucking bored, everyone here is not here. I have a semi see-through tube on my arm. Well leg, fucking terminology, that's a real bastard. I can't just sit here and wait to heal, when I broke my leg I did things, a splint didn't mean I had to stop forging, fixing, mending my items. All in the name of preparation. I had to re-learn how to fight, each step hurt, dodges were accidental dives and each block took more out of me than it should.
I can learn it all again, walking was becoming second nature when I had the chance to walk. Before I was dropped from the sky. I have half a mind too!
Calm, thoughts win the war, my mental state would concern a scribe if they had known, I am wearing this expression well of the feeling of the ears flat on my head is an indication of anything. I'll find this knight and whoever they pledged blades to, and I'll give them a word barrage that would put all my past discussions to shame.
But first I must heal.
“This glitter as you describe is very tiny small metal flakes used as decoration? Am I correct?”
“Yes, Uni Knight.”
“Then why do you want me to call you that?”
“Birth name, and it's a connection I don't wanna sever from home.”
Dreamworld once again. No battle, no burning, just a simple field covered in wildflowers. The smell was nice, and I felt rather silly as I did a very silly thing.
I bent down and bit one of the flowers, edible but alas I couldn't taste it in this dream.
But my ear flickered as I hear the noise of metal on cloth. A sound I found soothing.
I followed the noise to see a rather odd-looking unicorn, their horn was shaped completely weird. And they had natural armour poking up from their body. Long paths. I watched as they swing a blade at the dummy, curiously only using one edge to strike the target. An observation I made as I got close was that their blade floated in weak magic, purple, but it left a faint trail in the air as the blade moved.
Like elegant dancers, they moved with grace, each strike was precise. They focused on certain spots on the dummy, what had been leather armour of some type was sliced to oblivion on the dummy. And I approached.
Long slender blade, curiously I think it's only sharp on one edge.
I cleared my throat as the pony turned towards me.
“How? I, ugh!” They stepped forward and the ground around us faded away into a small room. Walls are seemingly made of scrolls with elegant writing all over them. Depictions of battles that I have no clue of.
They spoke with a strange accent in their voice. But I took a cautionary step forward. Their blade hesitated in their magic beside them.
“Hey there, I do believe I have entered your dream, how is that possible?” I asked as they mumbled something under their breath. Before spotting the image on my flank and smirking. They motioned with their head and followed, they stepped through a door of beads and continued walking. They sheathed their blade in an elegant twirl.
They continued to walk down the hallway but turned on the spot, and continued to walk backwards facing me. “You haven't entered my dream, I gravitated towards yours, I'm sorry for bothering you. Though I do believe this will be worthwhile.”
I meant to ask what they meant before they stopped at the edge of the hallway and looked as their architecture clashed with rough stone, large rooms with tapestries of single colours. My keep, my home, how?
“Guess we are both running from something, this would be the exit to my building, but I guess this is the entryway to what would have been your home.” They pranced past me sorta eagerly. I followed along not worrying about walking in the dream realm, I walk because I believe I can walk. Which means…
My horn flared up as I yanked on the overly eager pony's tail before they disappeared around the corner, unaided by me.
“You haven't told me your name, and what makes you think I want you going around here?” I asked as they froze. Turning slowly to me. Armour of loose looking leather appeared on them, metal bolts jutted from the leather telling me that underneath the letter is metal. And as they faced me a helm appeared in a snap-on her head. Made with a leather cap with metal horns and a thin sheet of metal on it.
“I know who you are, Transverse Bläde, now tell me why we are both here and now.” They unsheathed a different blade than they were using earlier from their sheath, pearl white handle, wrapped in smooth wrapping, and a crossguard of antler or some similar bone.
I opened my mouth and prepared to speak. But the blade appeared on the side of my neck. It's a dream I had nothing to, I felt it.
I felt the sharp blade pressing gently, fur being cut slightly leaving a feeling of hurt.
“I came eight year's after you, but all know of you, your exploits, you established this Abbey in the face of danger, and it stands.” They spoke as whatever they tried to say descended into their inchrohensable native language. I focused and found my scourobough appearing on my side, my blade rested in it. Plate mail feeling unfamiliar on my body as it appeared. The last thing to appear was my helmet, true to how I wore my armour; it had no face shield and blocked none of my peripheral vision.
But I spoke. “I would say something important but, I honestly think my old war cry would be offensive, so just fuck you.” They seemed taken back by my words as they held their blade out in their magic, steam emitting off their fur.
“Give me a real fucking cry, not a half-hearted insult.” They tilted their blade in their magic, anger boiling in their eyes as they looked at me, eyes locking with mine.
“Praise the Sun!” I shouted as I swung my blade. Directly into a yellow claw, the Chimaera it belonged to feigned pain as they plucked my blade and the other ponies blade up out of the air.
He looked at me, tossing an orange leather vest at me. They floated there, completely unaffected by the pull of the ground. The mare I had nearly cut into pieces shivered in place, slowly backing up. I'm in plate, and unarmed, but I can still land a mean punch in this dream world. Balance is not an issue if you don't imagine it as such.
I stood precariously on my back legs, readying my front leg to punch. I twisted my body to attack and encountered more resistance to moving. Until finally I couldn't move anymore.
“I was gonna make a Ha-Ha silly funny joke, but you two are bloodthirsty things. I may be chaotic, occasionally evil, but never outright have I harmed a pony to the point of death. To some, they may eventually want it.” They grabbed me by my muzzle, and with grace in those claws, he moved my body into a comfy sitting position, sitting me right next to the pony with a curved horn. They were posed slightly differently, accounting for their long tail, with the rather cute tail fluff.
“I had planned on you two meeting by accident, pencil rolls in and you two conversate. But no, you had to almost kill each other, dream realm or not Equestria has changed.” They snapped their fingers showing a clean city, ponies walked cleanly through, not a weapon or blade in sight, nor any clothing actually.
“They have changed for the better, and that only for today will be a bad thing.” He snapped and I let out a breath I didn't know I had held as I could move again. I was out of my armour and in the orange vest once more. The pony beside me got a simple paper and I got nothing but the rather comfy weighted orange vest, kinda poofy if I'm being honest.
“I spent too long practising this joke in the shower to let it go to waste like this, I even got the best from Pinkie, even though we are in the dream realm, well a shard of it.” They snapped their fingers and a verhmint amount of the vests appeared behind him before fading away just as quickly.
He cleared his throat dramatically. “Slow down their Marty, that's kinda not fly, you dug?” He smirked at me, then looked at the mare. Who sighed and looked up, “Great Scott?”
“Oh, the joke is ruined now... I'd rather have spontaneous chaos jokes rather than some planned out joke like that. “ He crossed his hoofs and our costumes disappeared once more.
“Oh I'm running out of time, it's gonna be time to set up for tea time before Long, so let me get to the point.” He suddenly had a helmet of green, military-style so I'm guessing from the far future? How would it even exist? None of what they were doing was even useful outside of this realm.
“Equestria is soft, the military is weak, and the royal knights is nothing but a title now, given out to ponies in power.” He tapped a riding crop onto the map, of this Equestria, of where I am gonna live for the rest of my life. And I’m okay with that.
“But you two, your not soft, and I decided the best way to fix it would to bring all the ponies that don’t belong to this Abbey.” The other pony raised their hoof like a school kid asking a question.
“Would you like it if I called you Sake or Tagi-“ The mare jumped up and nearly tackled the Chimera before they could finish saying the second name. They growled as I swear I could see small flames flickering on their fur. The Chimera licked their paw and placed it on their head, a sizzling noise happened.
And out of nowhere, a frying pan was pulled out. And this pony, who I'm guessing is Sake, cute name. They grinned and let out a small laugh.
Bacon and eggs appeared in the frying pan, but it didn't last longer long as a pillar of fire erupted from where Sake was.
The dream seemed to become unstable as I looked at a pony consumed in flames and fire, yet they looked alive in their.
“I don't like getting angry, Unicon do you wanna guess why?”
“Fear of harming those you care about when it happens?”
“Yes, and because getting angry makes me wanna burn something.”
I awoke on the bed, the rustic wooden room was the same as earlier.
Maybe I can get a wink of rest outside of that realm, just take a break, something I didn't have yet.
Then the bat outline appeared in the doorway, less regal. “Hey do you have a moment to-”
“FUCK!” I shouted as they slowly started backing up. And scissors threw through the air impacting the door frame.
I reached up and touched and felt the soft white glow emitting from my horn, casting light better than candles and the window ever could.
“Get out before I beat you to death with one of your wings after I pull it off.” And with that, I slammed the door with my newfound magic and covered my head with a pillow.
