Blight of The War Horse (Reforged)

Passing the many identical halls of Canterlot Castle, the duo, Storm Breaker and Olive Branch, made their way down the sparse corridor, passing multiple guards along the way.

“For all that talk about your earth pony genes, you’re looking to be pretty tired from a simple stroll.” Olive Branch joked as the slumped-shouldered warrior followed close behind. Her only response to the old stallion was an annoyed grunt, eyeing the windows to her left as a distraction.

Luckily, the one place that struck interest in the warrior's cold heart wasn’t far away: the canteen. Apparently, this canteen was more compact and spartan in appearance, contrasting the royal dining hall the warrior was roughly dragged to by the guard the day prior.

However, these insignificant details of looks or special features held no significance to the warrior, unlike the simple fact that all types of food, from meat to fresh plants, were served in a line. For free! Being hoofed fresh and hot meals without the need to prep ingredients beforehand felt like the first good thing that happened in the past two weeks. The meals served during her stay in the hospital room and transferring to her cells consisted of plain oats and a glass of water, maybe even a carrot, if the cooks were generous.

Healthy, but a meal only swine would enjoy on a daily basis.

Nonetheless, the warrior was dead-set on getting something warm and hearty in her stomach after the constant talk of places she half-listened, provided by Olive Branch. And luckily, she didn’t need to wait long as Olive Branch voiced their arrival.

“Here we are. Make sure not to get too friendly with the others.” He said in a sarcastic tone.

“Shut up.” The warrior grumbled.

Parting the double doors, the split second of room-filling chatter once present completely faded into silence, every pair of eyes, from the cleaners to the servers, locking onto the duo with varying degrees of edginess. The loitering guards, lacking their usual golden garments, looked ready to pounce on the warrior mare at any moment, the food line going still, and the ponies sitting at long metal tables halting mid-bite of their meal.

“What are the lot of you looking at, huh? Mind your damn business!” The elder stallion next to her shouted, taking another swing out of his seemingly endless keg.

Not a single sound escaped as the duo fully entered, the warrior viewing the guards’ caution and shock as trivial while Olive Branch smiled idiotically. Slowly but surely, the guards returned to their earlier activity, the room’s chatter lower in volume than a second ago.

Ignoring the prying occupants and their glances, the duo pulled up to the relatively short line between an L-shaped metal fence and glass-covered stands. In the stands, its glass covering edged by steam, a variety of new and old foods to the warrior sat under a warm light, their scents carried by the visible wisps of heated moisture rising off them. It didn’t take long for the hungry mare and her senior overseer to begin collecting foodstuffs, the former eagerly snatching anything eye-catching like it was her final day on Equus.

Eventually, both concluded their hunt; Olive Branch paid with strange, small golden disks, and the warrior held two trays on her back covered by four chicken breasts, two fruit bowls, fried hay(?), and a tall bottle of water. The looks of disgust and horror weren’t lost on the warrior, seeing something they’d considered a regular pony daring to get anywhere near the meat, let alone entertain the idea of feasting on it.

Luckily, the cooks had always provided meat before the warrior's arrival, Olive Branch saying something about foreign griffon diplomats and their escorts needing treatment as well, or whatever.

Just having the thought of the fierce warriors of Φαράγγι Γκίζαρντς she highly respected now as mushy and spineless as these ponies sent a shiver down her spine.

Nevertheless, the time for inner moping and pony-hating could wait; her stomach was calling, and she wasn’t one to deny it. Following Olive Branch to a lone table in the canteen’s bottom right corner- not too far from the entrance -both sat on opposite sides and set down their trays.

“That’s an impressive appetite you got there, missy!” Olive Branch said, his horn glowing and levitating two buns withholding fried hay closer to his muzzle. “But I must admit: I’ve never seen a pony choose to eat meat before in my life. And now that I look closer, your teeth are sharper compared to, say, mine.” He examined, tilting his head at an angle to see the warrior's semi-sharp-toothed maw open, her hooves grasping a chicken breast.

Like a starving beast, a low grunt escaped the warrior, turning muffled at her teeth sunk into the white avian flesh.

And in an instant, juices exploded and coated the mare's mouth and taste buds, overloading them with the tang of spices and a plethora of unknown, delectable ingredients, making the warrior hold back an embarrassing moan of pleasure. One bite turned into two, and two turned into four; each bite the mare took increased the urge to gorge on her meal. While the chicken she feasted upon wasn’t like the rabbits and winter birds she’d roast above a fire, the now-debunked belief that meat would never be in her reach without causing the ponies to piss and moan about it made the taste all the more divine. It didn’t matter if the wet tearing sounds disturbed others around her- to hell with them.

And when the warrior's poultry-induced ravaging concluded, all four chicken breasts were gone, not a single stain or crumb left behind. Belching boorishly, she raised the gauntlet covering her left foreleg to her lips and whipped off any remaining mess, setting the grease-stained metal-covered limb down afterward.

“Well, damn.” Olive Branch simply said, holding the last bit of hay burger in his magic, “If it weren’t for the fact you’re a pony, I’d reckon you’d be some sort of pony-eating monster.” He huffed, finishing his last bite.

A sudden dark grin grew on the warrior's face, “I don’t know, maybe I am a pony-eating monster?” She said, ensuring her teeth showed in her grin, “I find the flesh of unicorns too tender- makes my jaw sore, and pegasi barely have any to speak of. But I’m not picky.” She chuckled. She had seen the old stallion's reaction after her half-improved show of hunger; to see a look of terror on him would turn this shitty day around. But it didn’t- he made it a bit worse.

The grinning bastard only had a look of surprise before his shit-eating grin returned, like he hadn’t seen a pony devour meat, something the warrior knew now as taboo like the shaman’s helpers explained after she requested meat during her stay at the hospital. Meat is the most vital part of any warrior's diet, and these ponies act as if they were the plague.

Maybe they were trying to weaken her, make the warrior easier to capture should she try to run.

Those bastards.

Nevertheless, Olive Branch posed as a saint at some points, even when something was wrong. Earlier, passing by an area labeled by Olive as a ‘spa’, one of the workers slipped while holding a bucket of dirty water after having cleaned it, getting it all over the old stallion. Instead of lashing out and yelling at the mare as she expected, the warrior was stunned when Olive helped the worker gather her supplies before letting her take his clothes for washing.

Even when disrespected, ‘threatened’ by the warrior, or stripped of his clothes, Olive Branch always had that damnable smirk plastered on his muzzle. The warrior wondered how a fellow warrior, despite being a unicorn, could put up with… everything.

He was like a local sage the warrior knew in her home village, minus the alcohol addiction.

“Sad to say, you ain’t going to find much on me, missy.” He chuckled.

“Missy?!” The flabbergasted warrior whisper-shouted. Where did this fossilized prick get off on calling somepony like her missy? “I’ll rip out your fucking throat if you call me that EVER again; I don’t care what your comrades do to me then.” She growled, forgetting her trick to frighten the old stallion failed.

Finishing the last of his hay fries off his tray, Olive Branch used a folded piece of paper to clean his hooves and mouth. “Y’know, I can tell you have a lot of issues. It isn’t my place to ask questions, but it wouldn’t hurt to talk with me. Maybe even become friends- I know the princesses would love that!” He said.

The warrior raised an eyebrow, “‘Friend?’” She echoed in a confused and offended tone. “Your jest isn’t funny, unicorn. An alliance between us will never happen because of one of the many simple facts: a horrendous spike forever rests on your forehead. And if I DID have issues, I’d rather kill a hundred elder dragons before talking with you, unicorn scum!” She spat, leaning across the table and poking Olive Branch in the chest, making him jolt back involuntarily in his chair.

Silence claimed the old stallion, a solemn expression crossing his wrinkled features in a sign of deep thought, abandoning the fuming warrior across from him to wallow in quiet anger.

Eventually, a sigh escaped him as he put his forehooves together, “A friend isn’t the cause of some alliance, Storm Breaker.” He said, sounding surprisingly firm compared to a few moments ago. “They’re like…comrades, as you say. But friends are more personal, ponies you can trust anything with, no matter what. And right now, you need all the friends you can get. It’s alright that you don’t want to talk, but I need your cooperation so I can help you get out of this mess.” Now reaching across the table, his brow furrowed, a hoof sitting on the table just before the warrior. “Let me be your friend.” He said.

Shockingly enough, when Olive Branch looked up to gauge the warrior's reaction, he could barely hold back a look of shock at what he saw.

“Oh, I already know what a friend is, unicorn.” She said in an even tone, “The last friend I ever had, he was captured by a band of unicorn thieves, savage ones like you prissy horn-heads claim us earth ponies to be. Do you want to know what they did to him, hm?” In the most dead-eyed, soulless, empty expression he’d ever seen, the mare said: “By the time my comrades tracked him down, all that was left was his strung-up skin and broken bones with scraps of flesh still warm and clinging on.” She whispered.

The warrior leaned forward, inching closer until her muzzle was next to Olive Branch’s ear. “So when you talk about being my friend, just know I took great pleasure In slowly exacting the same pain those unicorns brought on to my friend. I. Don’t. Need. Your. Help.” She said, moving away from the old stallion as she picked up a fruit bowl and began eating.

In the countless years Olive Branch had served in the royal guard, anger was no stranger to him. From bitter loss, righteous fury, and unbridled rage; to acidic defeat and beyond, the old stallions experienced every flavor of anger under Celestia’s glorious sun.

Like a recipe for an egg, anger, as a concept, can be twisted and morphed into many different types that can fit in any situation, no matter how harmless or damaging it might be. It is something no other emotion can hope to replicate. Anger could fuel a pony to take on armies, slay any beast, and plunder entire nations if they so choose. But as it can make a mere pony do terrible things, it can also result in the opposite, bringing peace to many where destruction may happen. Olive Branch had seen dear friends he considered family fall into death’s grips, but their deaths helped keep Equestria and its peace intact.

Storm Breaker, however, could no doubt be labeled as the poster foal for the word- nay, the concept of anger.

Of course, the mighty vanguard warrior’s temper was as famous as her recent escapades. But Olive Branch, Storm Breaker having been by his side all day, chalked up her rumored resentment to be nothing more than the equivalent of a teenager complaining.

However, those eyes, moments ago, utterly destroyed that notion, despite one of them covered by cloth.

Those eyes couldn’t even be described by conventional words.

Those eyes didn’t belong to a pony.

Like the sharpest of razors and the dullest of rocks. Like the hottest of stars and coldest of glaciers. Olive Branch felt as if those orbs in the mare’s skull withheld the power to burn this world asunder if released, then trap the fading embers under a sheet of solid ice so that no hope of escape from her wrath was left.

It shook the elder to his core, something so close to a pony and far from BEING a pony.

Unfortunately, to any other pony saying he was insane, that was the very reason he’d applied to be Storm Breaker’s caretaker.

He’d been there when the princess recaptured the warrior mare after her escape, helping ponies recover from injuries and shock. Combining what Storm Breaker said and her past, Olive Branch would be lying if he said he didn’t feel some kind of connection. He was a stallion of numerous experiences, and anger turning into peace was one of them; soldiers of today had the pleasure of returning home with their limbs intact, free of the suffering of their predecessors. But he was from a different time where none of that was guaranteed, something he was sure was common place for Storm Breaker in her time.

The old, foolish, and downright idiotic stallion wondered if the enraged monster before him could also find that peace. To turn those ever-bloodthirsty orbs' rage into something soft and wonderful.

Maybe soon, or likely later, that will come. But right now…

“It’s starting to get late.” Olive Branch sighed, missing the half-stunned, half-victorious look Storm Breaker had. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your words in mind when we share a nice conversation over a drink.” He chuckled, donning his carefree attitude as he guzzled from his magically refilling keg, gifted to him by Celestia as a Hearts Warming gift.

A huff came from Storm Breaker, “Whatever,” She replied, standing up from the table and examining the now near-empty canteen, “All I care about is getting this damn sentence over with.”

“Well, you’re in luck.” Olive said, copying the warrior mare’s action, “Your first assignment is tomorrow, in fact.” Chuckling at her bewilderment, the old stallion shuffled past the mare toward the canteen’s entrance. “Princess Luna is planning on visiting Twilight Sparkle in a town not far from here, Ponyville, to enjoy their Nightmare Night celebration. Don’t ask me why. And without Luna by her side, Celestia is going to need the extra protection for tomorrow night’s Nightmare Night Ball, which she included you in.” He explained.

Following behind him, Storm Breaker grunted in confusion, “I thought she was all-powerful since she is an alicorn. I highly doubt any race can stand up against her unless she’s a coward-”

“Hold your tongue when speaking about her majesty like that!” Olive scolded, making Storm Breaker jolt in surprise. “It’s unbecoming of a lady such as yourself.” He slyly added, internally chuckling at her unsuccessful attempts to hide a faint blush.

“It’s not because ponies might be after her. You’d be surprised how many nobles will take advantage of things like this to tear each other down, like a pack of Timberwolves. Be it poison or speeches, grown or young, nobles are the predators of Canterlot and are best looked after at all times during something like this.” He said.

Storm Breaker scoffed as they reached the double doors, the old stallion using his magic to open them. “So much for fancy outward appearances.” She exasperated, letting Olive Branch leave first before trailing him.

Laughing loudly, Olive Branch raised his keg in the air. “Cheers to that!” He joked.

As the duo went on their way to finish the tour and rounded a corner, a shadowy figure caught their rear ends in time to see them disappear. Sadly, they were unable to confront the duo due to personal matters keeping them busy, but the shadow’s brown eyes turned into upside-down crescents in delight.

Tomorrow night, his friend's plan would begin.