Cantata and Cophon at Nephelos

Cophon of Nephelos despised the Mask Jubilee for a simple reason: everypony wore masks. It did have one redeeming element though — he could wear his soldier getup without causing a scene. And so Cophon checked and double-checked each strap of each piece of his armor. It, his shield, and his pike were the only things he owned that he considered to have any value.

The real soldiers had their armor and arms provided by the deme, but he knew he could never join the soldiery. So he had purchased them himself. His friends teased him for purchasing the real deal instead of cheap copper-plated tin costume armor, trading fine meals and wine and creature delights for homemade bean soup and armor that’d never see a battle. But it made it easier for him to pretend he could be a hero, and if other ponies thought Cophon foalish for that, so be it.

Cophon donned his shield, slid his pike into place, and went out to join the Mask Jubilee festivities as best he could.

Cophon had barely started his journey to the agora when he noticed things were different this time. Masked ponies were arguing, too many and too intensely to be blamed on mere misfortune. Cophon was very good at reading body language, and though that skill was sorely tested today, seeing as so much of it was in the mouth and around the eyes, he was still able to tell that even the ponies which weren’t arguing were on edge, resenting their fellow demesponies. He couldn’t tell what the arguments were about, much less any bases for his demesponies’ resentments, but he suspected that didn’t matter. Something else was going on, something mysterious.

Approaching the agora, the number of pegasi out on the streets grew, and Cophon begin to smell something very odd. He’d never before smelled any scent like it, but paradoxically he also felt it was something he’d encountered before. He stopped to take some deeper breaths. There was something in the air, but it wasn’t a scent per se. He sniffed around, making something of a spectacle of himself. Well, what of it? It was the Mask Jubilee, ponies making spectacles of themselves was expected.

Cophon took flight, and some sniffing confirmed that the not-a-scent was being wafted upwards. It was ... an emotion? A feeling? It was ... discord? He had read stories of discord personified, but to him they read more like legends than histories, so he figured Eris didn’t actually exist in any material sense. He was going to be reassessing that belief now.

He set off to pierce the clouds and find what was in the sky above Nephelos.

The creature didn’t remotely resemble any description of Eris that Cophon had ever read. Not only did it lack wings (yet was quite capable of flight), it had only two legs, which were matched. Its coat was scales like those of a fish, and entirely in different hues of red. The creature was considerably larger than a pony, to which it bore some resemblance. It was something like an abominable seapony.

Cophon didn’t know how the monster was attacking Nephelos, nor why none of his demesponies even recognized the attack. But Nephelos was his deme and he would defend it, alone if need be. Cophon readied his pike and shield, and sallied forth.

Cantata adored the Mask Jubilee for a simple reason: everypony wore masks. Pony hate was the most delectable of foods, but she wasn’t yet powerful enough to foster hate across an entire town under normal circumstances. But behind a mask a pony can feel not themself. They are more free with their actions when they won’t stain a reputation. And so Cantata dined well every Mask Jubilee, each year from a different town to avoid drawing unneeded attention.

But this year, despite staying above the clouds, she had gotten noticed. A single pegasus pikepony came at her. How strange that they’d send a single champion.

“Are you here to duel me?” she asked him. Though Cantata had no martial training, she had a hard time considering the little pony with his little stick a serious threat.

In answer, the pegasus charged straight at her. She struck out with her leg and her hoof hit his shield, making it ring like a gong and knocking him back. The pegasus charged again, this time trying to attack her flank. She twisted and punched at him again, but this time he only met her hoof with the edge of his shield, sending him spinning and chipping her hoof.

He landed on a cloud as the siren stared at her hoof and hissed. The injury, trivial as it was, caused Cantata to change her demeanor. She blasted the pegasus with her breath, and though he blocked it with his shield, it disintegrated the cloud he was standing on. The pegasus was apparently unprepared to lose his footing, falling with his legs flailing. She smacked her tail into his side, sending his shield flying off to the north while the pegasus slammed into the next cloud down.

Cantata dove and smashed both her hooves into him, knocking him through the cloud entirely, spinning out of control as he plummeted away. The siren laughed and resumed her song of strife. How had the little pony thought he had any chance against the likes of her?

It took a bit for Cophon to come back to his senses. He’d lost track of which way Nephelos and the monster were. And for that matter, which way he was flying. The world was clouds and patches of blue sky, spinning madly around him, with a steadily growing wind pulling his feathers in constantly changing directions. This was very, very bad. This was how you got killed flying.

Cophon spent precious seconds slowing his breathing and calming himself. Panic was the opponent’s ally. Panic was how you got killed in battle and it was how you got killed in flight. He opened his wings slightly, and at his speed it was enough to catch the air. He tilted them opposite the direction the sky was spinning, and everything slowed. The mad sky became steady and the wind found a single direction.

Yet the wind was rushing over his wings too rapidly. He’d taken too long to recover from the spin and now he couldn’t brake by dissipating clouds; that’d only crush his body instead. First he’d need to reorient himself — after being spun, what felt like down and what appeared level almost certainly weren’t.

Overriding his instincts, he furled his wings so he’d fall straight down. He searched his view and found some cloud bottoms which were perpendicular to the wind. Pretending they were the horizon, he aligned his wings with them. He wanted to spread them wide, but forced himself to disobey the urge — his instincts weren’t accounting for the weight of his armor and he’d dislocate his axillary joints, and there’d be no recovering from that. Cophon barely opened his wings into the airstream, but they instantly caught the wind. As his dive moved away from the vertical, his wings pushed air downwards, slowing him down. As his speed reduced, he could open his wings further, which let them push down more air. And just like that, he wasn’t falling at all, simply gliding again.

The immediate peril averted, Cophon landed on the next cloud he encountered. He collapsed onto his side and shivered. He let himself hyperventilate and curled his body up and let his mind go blank. It was some time before he could sit up. He had actually battled a monster. He had been in an real fight. He had fought and lost and almost died.

Gradually he collected himself and normalcy returned to his thoughts. He not only hadn’t died, his worst injuries were only heavy bruises. He reviewed himself: his armor and pike were fully intact, but more embarrassing than his defeat, he’d lost his shield, and hadn’t even noticed the point at which he’d dropped it.

Cophon reviewed the fight in his mind. Clearly inexperience and lack of training had cost him. While even the soldiers wouldn’t be able to train against giants, he was certain that they trained against losing their footing. He never had. He mostly trained alone, under the moon and stars when he wouldn’t be seen, though some of his friends would spar with him at times. It was dispiriting to think about how ineffective his preparations had been.

But what kind of a pegasus would he be to give up after being knocked down one time? A disgrace. Cophon lifted his head. He’d do better on the second try. He pondered what he would need to do different.

Item Α´: evade the blasts of the monster’s breath.
Item Β´: keep his pike pointed at the monster, for both offense and defense.
Item Γ´: don’t get struck by the monster’s body.

All easier thought than done, those. Well, nothing he’d read of battle hinted that it’d be easy. Cophon resolved himself, leapt back into the sky, and flew upwards again.

Cantata was getting increasingly disturbed. That pegasus champion was back, but he’d completely changed his fighting style. Instead of meeting her attacks, he was dodging them. And pricking her hide with his stick every time he got a chance. Any one of them was hardly worth bothering about, but a death by a thousand cuts was still a death. Worse, he flew faster than she did, continuing to harry her when she tried to fly away.

And how come he was immune to her song? Anyway, strife and discord were only the tastiest way to dine. She could beguile him instead.

“You’ve proven yourself worthy, champion! I shall grant you a prize for your victory: a feast that Chancellor Cannoli would envy!”

She spun as her flank was pricked, “And riches that would make Lord Inferno seem a pauper!”

It wasn’t working. He must want power more than wealth. “Together we can conquer the world! You’ll be a king above kings, ruling an empire stretching from the Yakon to Mount Aris, from Tambelon to Zebrica!”

Cantata certainly couldn’t deliver on these promises, she just needed a desire to hook her song into and stop the pony from fighting. Perhaps a different kind of desire altogether would work.

“And your harem! Mares from every tribe, each as supple and lean as a deer! Or plump with soft yielding flesh! Burly stallions that’ll make you their mare! Anyone! Fillies! Colts! Anything!”

Did this gadfly of a pegasus not have any desires? Something must entice him.

“I’ll make you immortal! You can spend eternity with me worshiping at your feet, providing your every desire on golden platters!”

Cophon tried to hide his fatigue from the monster. Though slower than a pegasus, she seemed to glide through the air effortlessly, while he couldn’t stay flying much longer. If only he had a partner who could carry the fight on while he rested... Yes, and a box of candied flowers would be nice too.

Dodge, dodge, dodge, strike! But Cophon’s pike was also proving less effective against the monster than he’d hoped. He’d struck her a dozen times, but the hits seemed to only inconvenience her like cactus spines would inconvenience a pony.

Between that and his growing exhaustion, Cophon would have to abandon this fight soon. He dropped to fly below another attempted punch from the creature, and for a moment he had the perfect opening. He dove against her chest, his pike spearing where he imagined her heart to be. He felt a surprising jolt through the pike’s staff as its head hit something harder than bone and the staff cracked in two.

The creature fell as Cophon watched in bewilderment. She was clearly trying to swim like the air was water, but the air was only air. He began to follow her down, only to encounter a heavy crowd composed of the pegasi of Nephelos. He joined the crowd and all of them descended to the ground together.

Cophon had once read a story about a river that you must not enter with any blood on your coat, lest you be swarmed by carnivorous fish. The attack he’d envisioned was very like what he saw as his demesponies viciously made quick work of the monster.

He landed to the side, among a group that was content to just observe. Once it was clear the monster was dead, the activity lessened. But some commotion resumed when a pony found the other half of Cophon’s pike. She handed it to the mayor, who waved it around. Cophon lifted his own pike-half, and suddenly he was the center of attention. Every pony was looking at him as the mayor gestured with his pike-half. Cophon scanned the crowd for acquaintances, but saw only anonymizing masks and helmets. Surely some of these ponies would know him? After all this, were they seriously going to make him pantomime removing a mask?

He scanned the crowd again, and found one mask being doffed to reveal a face he recognized. He walked over to Xanhippoe, withdrawing his wax tablet and stylus from under his breastplate. Now that he was with a pony whose lips he could read, he should be able to get, and possibly provide, some answers.