“Sure.” I nodded, “But I’m already risking myself by taking this job in the first place.” I pointed at my foot, “They have a piece of me, and I want it back.”

“Back, back.” Shinsha repeated,

“And what if you lose another piece in the process?” Indigo argued, “What then?”

“Then I’ll try to get both back.” I lowered my gaze with her, “They mean more to me than you realize.”

Indigo looked at me for a few seconds, then inhaled and exhaled, “Well whatever, if that’s how you want to cut your losses then so be it. Just try not to drag us too far into it. When do you want to see Sir Manuscript?”

I relaxed a bit, “Not today. I’m tired.”

“Thank the heavens.” Indigo proceeded to fall to the side, landing softly on the bed, “I do not want to see that stallion again for another week.”

“I don’t think that’s possible…” Fletch mumbled, taking her place atop the other bed again,

“Not if we’re going on patrol in a few days.” Indigo groaned,

It wasn’t just that I was tired, I didn’t really want to see Sir Manuscript either. With the way that things have been going, I at least want to make sure I was fully prepared before meeting him again.

“If that’s the case,” I began, “then why don’t we try an official request this time?”

“Request, request.”

“Ooh! Good idea.” Indigo sat up, “It won’t reach him immediately, and he’ll have to give us a proper response, giving us some time.”

“Let’s do that.” Fletch said,

“Alright.” I nodded slowly, “Then how do we send an official request?”

Indigo stared at me, opened her mouth as if to say something, stopped, then muttered something to herself before sighing and climbing out of bed. She then slid one of her bags to her front and began rummaging through it, pulling out a small jar and a tied scroll.

“Fletch,” she called out, beckoning with her hoof,

“Aww… Do I have to?” She complained,

“Unless you want to pay for a quill.” Indigo responded,

“Quill, quill.”

Fletch whined, but otherwise extended her wing slightly.

“Ouch!” A bright green feather was pulled from her side by a purple glow.

It then floated over to Indigo, who then set the rest of the items down on the small table just under the window.

“You’ll have to write a letter asking for a meeting.” She concluded.

“Ooh…” I winced, “Can you write it for me?”

Indigo just gave me a deadpan stare.

“No, I mean literally, can you write it for me?” I asked again, “I can’t write.”

“Uh-huh.” Indigo responded, “You’re telling me you can do arithmetic, but you can’t read or write? Sure.”

I sighed, scooting my chair over, “I mean I can, you just wouldn’t be able to understand it.”

“Try me.” Indigo popped open the jar and dipped Fletch’s feather into it. She then untied the scroll, which revealed it to actually be a bundle of parchment, and placed a single sheet in front of me.

I carefully grabbed the feather as Shinsha landed on the table. Then I brought it over to the top left of the page, and slowly lowered it.

“Wait.” Indigo interrupted,

I stopped to look at her.

“I like the idea of an official request, but this stuff is expensive.” She explained, tapping the rest of the parchment. “It’s your letter, are you going to pay for it?”

“Of cour-” I stopped myself, then looked back at the sheet I was about to ruin.

I knew what was going to happen, I wasn’t going to be able to write very well. I also knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to waste stuff like this, but in order to spite Indigo…

“I’ll pay for just the letter.”

“Letter, letter.” Shinsha bobbed up and down slightly. They paced around the table to try and reach my hand, but hesitated to actually step on the parchment.

Indigo bit her lip, then looked from me, to the quill, then to the parchment as she grit her teeth. Eventually she sighed and smiled lightly. “Alright, fine. Show me how you write.”

“Okay…” I tilted my head back to the parchment,

The quill touched down, and I started by writing ‘To Sir Manuscript,’

‘It is Phos and company. We have acquired the proof you have-’

“Okay, stop.” Indigo commanded,

I dropped the quill in the inkpot and sat back, admiring my handiwork. It wasn’t very good, but that was to be expected. I learned to write in school, but I never really got a chance to practice it much, nevermind the fact that I didn’t have my dominant hand anymore. The result? I wrote in big, blocky letters made with rough, scratchy strokes and entirely in uppercase. It was legible, but certainly not pretty by any means.

“What did you write?” Indigo asked as she leaned over to inspect it,

I read it out to them.

“At least you know proper etiquette.” Indigo said with a sigh,

“Etiquette, etiquette.” Shinsha echoed,

Fletch made a noise off to the side, it sounded like a cross between a snort and a whimper.

“Okay fine, I’ll write it for you.” Indigo slid the parchment closer to her, “But it’ll-”

“It’ll cost me.” I finished for her, “I know, thirty one percent.”

Indigo just shook her head, “Fourty.”

“Thirty three.” I countered,

“Thirty five.”

“Mm… deal.”

“Thirty, fourty, thirty… five…” Shinsha quickly got lost.

“Um…” Fletch began, “Can I get paid for the feather?”

“I don’t know if that’s worth a percentage increase.” Indigo said,

“I’ll give you one bit for it.” I smiled at her,

“Yay!”

Indigo leaned in real close. “And how much will you give me for the ink and parchment?”

“I’ll pay for part next time you buy some.”

With a huff, Indigo turned her attention back to the parchment, trying to read what I wrote.

“This almost looks like griffin-scratch.”

“It does?” I asked,

“What’s that?” Fletch asked,

“The griffin’s form of writing, here.” Indigo grabbed the quill in her magic.

She wrote four more lines underneath mine. One looked slightly similar to mine, the next just looked like hieroglyphics, the third looked like a bunch of tally marks and lines, and the fourth looked oddly similar to runes, like you would see them on a viking ship.

“This is griffin-scratch, the unicorn alphabet, the pegasi system, and earth-pony runes.” Indigo listed,

“Huh…” I muttered,

“Can I see?” Fletch stepped out of her bed to come around on the other side. “Woah… I’ve seen this before.” She pointed towards the mess of lines and marks.

“Can you read it?” Indigo asked,

Fletch inhaled sharply, “N-No…” She looked away, “What does it say?”

“Just what Phos wrote.”

At that I looked more closely, trying to compare the languages to mine. Unfortunately, none of them were a one to one match, in fact, they each varied wildly. It was strange, I could at least expect that from something like the griffins, but each of the ponies’ was extremely different from the other in both lengths, symbols, and if I had to guess, grammar as well.

“Why do all the ponies have different languages?” I asked,

“Different writing styles for the same language.” Indigo corrected, “And I don’t know. I’m sure each tribe will tell you something different, but I believe they developed independently. Though I’ve heard that there’s talk of creating a standardized script for everypony to use.”

“But you know every style?”

“I’m more or less proficient.” Indigo said, “I didn’t get a formal education for nothing.”

“Wow…” I began, “Teach me.”

“Pay me.”

“Me too.” Fletch butted in,

“What?” Indigo exclaimed, turning to look at her.

“Teach, teach.” Shinsha added, hovering above her,

“...” Indigo didn’t say anything, she was surrounded on all sides.

“Please?” Fletch pleaded,

Indigo looked at each of us for a moment, shaking her head and biting her lip, before finally dropping her hooves on the table.

“Alright, fine! Fine, but later.”

“Thank you!” Fletch practically hugged her,

I just nodded, while Shinsha fluttered down to land on her horn. Indigo shuddered, then shook the Breezie off and pushed Fletch away.

“You all better pay me.”

“Of course.” I responded,

“Absolutely,” Fletch added,

“Pay, pay.”

“Now,” Indigo inhaled deeply, she shoved the parchment off to the side and grabbed a new one, “What did you want your letter to say?”

♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦ ♥ ♦

I gazed across the array of weapons before me. Honestly, it was a pretty impressive lineup. A multitude of medieval melee weapons were placed upon a few wooden tables, some more worn than others, but each looking relatively solid and effective.

“Alright, take your pick.” Rusty announced,

With the letter on its way, all that was left to do now was wait. Or so I thought until Rusty barged into our room early the next morning to drag me outside. I then learned that Captain Morningstar said I had to prepare for the next job, which started with learning how to use a weapon. We were currently out back of the inn, where the mercenaries’ cart was being stored. It was a relatively open area that was out of the way of the street, making it a good place to train in private.

I think it was everyone’s dream at one point to hold a real sword. I was no different, I have many memories of picking up sticks and playing pretend. I never thought I would actually get the chance to use one, so you could say I was a little excited to get started.

In reality though, swords are heavy. Since I only had one hand, I was relegated to some of the lighter weapons, but even then I still had trouble. A common shortsword was difficult for me to even lift off the table, not to mention things that had extra weight on the end, like a hatchet or mace. At most I could drag a sword off the table and hold it level, but I couldn’t actually raise it in any way, much less swing it.

Rusty just watched my feeble attempts to pick up a weapon with an odd face, then he pointed towards the end of the table.

With a sigh, I shambled over there. All that was left was a small collection of daggers and knives, some of which looked like they would be better suited for work in a kitchen. It immediately became clear that these weren’t as well maintained as the rest either. Short blades didn’t seem like any of the other mercenaries’ style, and Dagger probably wouldn’t let anybody near his weapons, so this was bottom of the barrel stuff. Everything on the table was dull, rusted, or both, with one literally falling apart in my hand as I picked it up.

At least I could actually pick them up.

I ended up going with a knife, one with a guard and a sheath, which hopefully meant that the blade was clean. In the absence of two hands though, I had to hold onto it with my teeth in order to get it out of the sheath, which revealed it to be… not in the best condition.

There were quite a few knicks along the blade, and the tip looked a little dull, but it wasn’t rusty, and still looked pretty strong. I turned it in my hand a few times, then gave a few practice jabs.

“Is that what you’re going with?” Rusty asked,

“Ith-” I spat out the sheath, “Yes.”

“Alright.” He shrugged, “Why don’t you get comfortable with it first.”

I nodded, then stepped away from the tables. Once I was in the clear, I just started swinging. There was no form or technique, I was literally just swinging the knife around with reckless abandon. It slipped out of my grasp almost immediately, flying through the air before tumbling across the ground for a small distance.

Rusty whistled, “Nice throw.”

“S-Shut up.” I quickly ran over to the knife and picked it back up again.

This time with a stronger grip, I started getting used to its weight, and I started modifying my swings. Stopping part way through, changing directions, or adding in a few thrusts, my movements started to get less haphazard. I tried to imagine how someone might fight with a knife, which mainly just boiled down to how I saw characters fight with knives in games, cartoons and anime, comics and manga, and TV shows and movies.

It was mostly quick stabs and slashes, from both above and below. I tried out a few, but couldn’t really stab from above.

Wait a minute.

I brought the knife to my mouth and bit down on the blade, then flipped my hand around and grabbed it again, this time with a reverse grip. I held it in front of me for a moment, then gave a few experimental stabs and slashes.

Rusty eyed my form with a curious expression, “Have you done this before?”

“Nope, never.” I shook my head, “This is just stuff that I’ve seen.”

“So you’ve seen combat before?”

“Uh…” I stopped practicing to look at him, “Not… real combat.”

“Training then?”

“...No…” I began, “It was…” How should I put this? What was a good analogy that someone from the middle ages would understand? “Like a book? Or a play?”

Rusty pursed his lips, “So actors on a stage. You know that’s nowhere near the real thing, right?”

“Yes, but the stuff I’ve seen was more… realistic?”

No, that wasn’t true. Nothing about flaming blades or secret techniques was realistic, but… Those actions were easier to… follow? To understand? They had more impact? What was I trying to say here?

“Realistic how?” Rusty demanded,

“Uh…” I trailed off, thinking hard, “It was… like the uh… actors were actually… attacking each other?”

“That sounds more like a duel than a show.”

“Yeah, but…” I scratched my head with the knife still in hand, “There were… illusions? I guess? That made it look like real combat, but nobody actually got hurt.”

Well, it looked like people got hurt, and some of them were quite gruesome at that. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to have a spear go through your eye, or to have your limbs twisted and broken repeatedly, or to have your head shot off.

I shuddered, then gripped the knife in my teeth again to rub my neck. My limbs could definitely get broken, but at least I could put them back together again. I didn’t feel any pain when it happened either, not even when my head split, so I doubted I would have to go through anything like that.

Still though…

“That sounds pretty entertaining.” Rusty mused,

I blinked, then pulled the knife out of my mouth, “...It was… Yeah.”

“But,” Rusty continued, “You're not gonna to find anything like that around here, are you?”

“N-No… I don’t believe so.”

“Well, so much for that.” He sighed, “Alright, let’s move on.”

I stopped mid swing, then turned to look at him. “What’s next?”

“Learning to fight.” Rusty began, he pulled a sword of his own from the tables.

I took a step back as he started to approach, “Uh…”

“Since this is your first real job,” He continued, speaking around the grip, “and there isn’t much time to prepare, the Captain wants you to focus on defense first.”

“A-And how would I do that?”

“Simple.” Rusty stopped just in front of me, “Just block my strike.”

He raised his sword high, then brought it downward in a large arc. I scrambled to bring the knife to intercept, and only managed to catch the tip against Rusty’s sword. Still, that was enough to shatter my wrist, sending both my hand and the knife flying off to the side. The sword continued, and I was lucky I was taller than Rusty and he wasn’t that close, the blade only grazed my chest, just barely cutting into my disguise.

It then caught on my cloak, and the downward pull sent me crashing to the ground as well. I landed on top of the sword, which was thankfully pretty dull, but I still felt a crack travel across my shoulders.

A moment of silence passed as I laid there, then Rusty pulled the sword away, and I rolled onto my back.

“I guess that counts as blocking.” Rusty eventually said, “You didn’t stop my strike though.”

“You broke my hand!” I exclaimed,

“I would've expected something like this from Maul, but not from me.”

“Where is it?” I demanded,

“Over there.” Rusty nodded to the side nonchalantly,

I glanced over, where my hand laid in several pieces across the ground, my knife sitting in the middle of it.

“It might actually be worse for you to block than just trying to avoid the hit.”

“Maybe I should just dodge then.” I grumbled, picking myself up and walking over to my hand,

“Or parry,” Rusty suggested, “A knife would actually be pretty good for that. Quick movements and light strikes.”

Quick movements and light strikes? I could see that. If I couldn’t lift anything too heavy, and I couldn’t block strong attacks, then I would have to work around that. Moving fast, attacking quickly, and dodging when necessary would probably work well for me, which seemed counterintuitive when I was a living rock.

A knife wasn’t a sword though, and I really wanted to use one. What kind of sword was suited for fast and light attacks? Maybe an… oh. Yeah, that would probably work. I didn’t want to say it out loud though, but... ugh, I really wanted to know.

“What about a katana?” I murmured,

“A what?” Rusty asked,

“A… Katana,” I said louder. God, I sounded like such a weeb right now, “A sword made for quick movements and light strikes.”

I did my best to hide my embarrassment as I started gathering the pieces of my hand.

“I don’t know what that is, but a sword made for that style?" Rusty thought for a moment, "How about a rapier?”

“A rapier?” I repeated, “Do you have one?”

“Nope. Too fancy for my tastes, but I’m sure we could get you one.”

“Really?” I looked up at Rusty, then paused with a frown, “How soon?”

“Not very, we’d either have to find one, or get one made. I doubt we'd be able to get one in time for the job. And of course, you’d be the one paying for it.”

I just nodded with a sigh, then looked back down at the pile of shards I was working on. I then realized something. I was out of hands, and the one I had left was in pieces in front of me.

This was going to be difficult.

To Be Continued…

Author's Note

ㄒㄖ 丂丨尺 爪卂几ㄩ丂匚尺丨卩ㄒ,

丨ㄒ 丨丂 卩卄ㄖ丂 卂几ᗪ 匚ㄖ爪卩卂几ㄚ. 山乇 卄卂ᐯ乇 卂匚Ɋㄩ丨尺乇ᗪ ㄒ卄乇 卩尺ㄖㄖ千 ㄚㄖㄩ 卄卂ᐯ乇

Writing in the show has been very inconsistent, but keen-eyed viewers have noticed a few things. I'm adapting these observations into a little something of my own.

Each tribe has their own style of writing, as described above. Earth-ponies use runes, based on, you guessed it, norse runes. They are made of long, straight lines due to the limitations they have. Pegasi use something similar to cuneiform, etches and marks, which developed from the use of feathers as tools. Unicorns have a lot more liberty, and their alphabet is full of complex symbols and characters. It's the same jumble of symbols you see in the show sometimes, and though it reads like English, I'm making it function more like Japanese.

No, I'm not going to go into exactly how that works.

Most swords, by design, are pretty light, averaging from 2 - 4 lbs. Two handed swords generally double that weight, but they rarely break double digits.

Surely then, wouldn't somebody like Phos be able to handle such a weight? However, there is a difference between being able to lift that much vs actually using it when swinging the sword. We see this in the actual story, when Phos gets his first sword. He cannot lift it. You may make the argument that an obsidian katana would have a different weight compared to a steel broadsword, but obsidian actually has a lower density than steel, meaning it would be lighter.

Meanwhile, a rapier, being a light, one-handed weapon, would generally fall on the lower end of that spectrum, averaging around 2 lbs. Most of that weight would be closer to the hilt, so Phos should be able to use one. We'll just have to wait and see.

Trivia time.

A good chunk of this chapter was written during a power outage, I have four pages worth of text on paper, and I had to copy them down when my power came back on. True dedication to the craft can never be stopped.

What gruesome injuries Phos described, care to guess where each one comes from? Or at least where I got them from.
1. Evangelion: (Spoilers)When Asuka gets stabbed by the Spear of Longinus
2. Re:Zero: (Spoilers)When Rem encounters Petelgeuse
3. I'm legally obligated to say Attack on Titan: (Spoilers)When Eren gets his head shot off with a gun