Friends Of The Exiled

The night came quickly as the sky darkened to a deep blue and one by one, a twinkle of light pierced the atmosphere seen by all.  The wind settled to a whisper and the air began to cool following the warm day left behind.  No creature stirred at this late hour but the one pony on the road that neared the edge of town.  He casually walked on nearing the sign that was seen by many before him.  Scattered at the edge of the road was the waste of weary travelers.

He stopped to briefly look at the mess of an area.  “Ugh, lazy is more like it.”  He said with a sense of disgust.  He quickly thrust out an arm and hit the post with his hoof breaking the fragile wood.  The sign fell over and landed flat on the ground with a thud.

The stranger continued onward moving toward the edge of town as he neared the first building.  At that moment, a single pony walking out from the barber shop door closing it behind him and locking it.  Turning to look at the road, the pony saw the stranger step into the light of a nearby lamppost.

“What in Equestria…”  The pony stated with a murmur as he looked at the caped pony in disbelief.  Moving toward him, the pony raised a hoof to get his attention.

“Hey!”  He said moving closer.  “You!  What are you doing out there so late?  You could be eaten by Timberwolves, large bears, or worse!”

The stranger didn’t reply until the town resident came right next to him and went on.  “Most travelers walk the road by day.  It’s not safe out there alone.”

“I can manage”  The stranger replied back bluntly.  He shifted slightly to look at his inquisitor before asking another question.  “Where can I get a room?”

Somewhat confused, the pony replied carefully.  “Well, there’s the inn at the center of town.  If you-”

Without warning, the stranger moved on walking past the town pony without a second thought.

“Strange one that is…”  He said as he held a gaze shortly before returning to the barber shop to check if the front door remained locked.

The street was nearly a ghost town this late at night.  Little else could be seen going on for this evening hour while he took his time to study each building and decide what to do.

“If the information from the prince is right, he should be here.”   Looking to the ground a faint pair of wagon tracks trailed off in the road far to the other side of town.  Rather than be seen walking straight down the middle, he traced off to the side and stepped up on the boardwalk in front of the buildings.

The stranger continued on as he looked through each window.  Some curtains were pulled, others had little inside, there wasn’t much to see.

Then, he heard activity.

At the far end of town, nearly in the center of the main intersection was a large saloon still open.  From where he stood, music played from a loud piano, a chattering of voices filled the air, and the light stretched far from the door to the center of the road.

The hooded stranger watched precariously about the street as he slowly wandered to the entryway of the old saloon.  Taking his time to approach the door, he looked in through a large window with large lettering as advertisement.  The stranger took a quick look at the ornate lettering carefully painted by a skilled professional.

"The Weathered Landing"  He said as he squinted nearing the light.  "Odd name."  Poking his nose nearer to the window, he reached to peer inside and look around for a better look at the activity of the night.

The music suddenly went quiet as he adjusted to the light and the room came into view.

The decorations were of the typical décor that filled most out of the way saloons in Equestria.  Lamps hung from the walls and all of the dark red curtains were drawn for the night.  Pictures scattered the walls where they could be seen or were otherwise replaced with old farm tools no longer functional or rusted.

Two ponies stood behind the bar with one attending to a trio at one end and another wiping down a spill at the other.  Off to one side in the center sat four other stallions around a round table each staring intently at cards as each took turns tossing bits to the center.  To the furthest corner stood an old stallion changing the reel on the mute piano.  As he placed the new one in, he pulled the end to another reel and closed the wooden door.  Walking to the side the large musical box, he leaned against an exposed crank handle.  Pushing hard, he turned it over several times before the piano once again came to life.  New music started from the old organ, but a new tune was heard then from before.

The bartender still wiping up the mess quickly heard the new tune play and with a shout, he called to the old stallion.

“Dangit Toots, I told’ja not to play this one again!”

“But I like this one!  Reminds me of home.”  He said as he sat back down in his seat.

The bartender continued in protest with a slap of a hoof on the counter top.  “Ya play it too much!  It’s great tune and all, but’cha wear it out in that organ and in my head!  Understand?”

“Bah.”  The old stallion waved a hoof in disagreement as he slouched and reached to a nearby table to pick up a tankard of ale.  “Music is the best medicine to calm my nerves and when you can, you use the best.  This is second to none for me.”  He leaned back in the chair lifting two legs off the ground and brought the worn wooden stein to his muzzle.  With only a few seconds of time, he drained it to the bottom and banged it back down on the table.

The stranger broke his gaze from the window as he shifted his body away and moved to walk through the entrance.  Appearing at the saloon doors, he raised a hoof to push at one and continued to watch about the room as he continued slowly to the bar.

The bartender in protest looked up from the soaked counted to see the unknown robed pony enter.

“Oh, hello!”  He said brightening up and standing straight.  “I do welcome you to the The Weathered Landing my friend.  We serve the best drinks this side of the kingdom and service is second to none.”

A pair at the game table quickly chuckled at the mark as another hooted in jest.  “You can’t be serious Spigot.  This place has run dry more often a summer in the desert.”

“Mind you Grizzle, I ought to throw you out for the money you still owe me!”  The bartender shook a hoof back at him.  “I’ll call out the sheriff on you if you don’t make good on it!”

“Yeah, yeah.  Give me another few hands and you’ll have it.”  He grunted as he looked back at the cards in hoof.

“Not from where I stand.”  Another pony from the game table remarked.  “You haven’t made any ground tonight, Grizzle.”

“Hrmph.”  The bartender scoffed as he quickly lost interest in the gamblers and returned focus to the stranger smiling again.  As the pony closed in on the countertop, he perched himself on the nearest stool in front him directly across from the tender.

“Tonight we have an excellent selection of ciders from the west valley, a few ales brewed recently, and personally my favorite, a deep stout fine with a meal.”  The bartender lit up even more as he went on.  “If you’re hungry, we have a menu to with your drink sir.”

“What I need…”  The stranger talked slowly and clearly to the bartender.  “…is a blacksmith.”

Backing up a bit, the bartender relaxed with a hint of disappointment at the loss of business. “Hmm.  Is that all?”

“Maybe.”  The stranger said with debate as he leaned easy on the bar waiting for an answer.

Looking over his shoulder, the bartender shot a quick look to the exit of the saloon behind the stranger as he replied.  “Look, I don’t want any trouble here.  Just go back the way you came and I’ll forget about the whole thing.”

Leaning further into the bar, the stranger bared his teeth silently before he growled a reply.  “I won’t.”  Quickly lifting a hoof from the bar, the stranger wrapped an arm around the neck of the bartender and drug him in close.  With a mean look in his eye, he asked again.  “I said I need a blacksmith.”

Spigot scared stiff stuttered out an answer as he shook.  “Ou-outside.  Across th-the street.  There’s an old mule that does a little work but, noth-nothing major.”  The stranger let him go as he relaxed and sat back into the seat.  A moment passed before he talked again.  “What is his name?”

“Cl-Clank.”  He said still trying to calm down. “I think he asked for hired help and sent out a telegram two days ago.”  The bartender took a quick breath and let it out easy as he waited for the next question.  “That’s all I know.

The stranger stayed silent as his brow furrowed while thinking.  He knew he should keep watch on the old stable before tomorrow and then, make a move.  It made the most sense.

“I want a room facing the road.”  He said, almost demanding to the tender.  Spigot turned to the wall behind him and facing several keys on a pegboard, lifted one and tossed it to the bar.  Before it could hit the wood, the stranger moved fast as a whip and caught it midair in hoof.  As the stranger then tilted to one side, coins are heard rustling as he shifted below the robe.  Raising his hoof, he tilted it to the bar and dropped three bits.  Each pinged as they danced briefly before settling flat in front of the bartender.

“Goodnight.”  The stranger said before sliding out of the stool and seeking his way to the rooms above.  To one side of the saloon ran a long cascading stairwell.  Noticing the wear of the wood going up, he ascended the steps carefully feeling for the weak plank that might make sound.  Reaching the top, he walked down the hallway briefly looking at the tag on the key.  With a weathered red number on a white background, the old tag read of room three.

Reading off the numbers in the hall, the one door he sought stood close.  Taking the key by teeth from his hoof, he slid it into the lock and turned the latch.  The door swung wide with a creak.

Inside the room sat several bare necessities.  The single dresser, crude lattice sheets on a thin railed bad, and a pair of lamps that sat cold and dark.

Walking in, he wrapped his foot around the door and kicked it shut with an audible light bang and latch of the doorknob.  Opening the curtains wide, he noticed in the dim light a small chair close by in the room.  Wrapping his arm around it, the stranger dragged to the window and turned it to face outside.  He watched intently at the old stable while sitting down and settling in to see what may happen at the building doors that still lay wide open with light that that came from inside.

Several minutes passed as he looked intently to the entryway and the cart that sat outside of it.  Before long, he watched as an old while mule and a deep crimson coated pony walk out to the cart.  The pair lifted several items one by one until, as if by accident, a set of tongs fell from the mouth of the mule the ground in the light.

“Cinder.”  The stranger muttered quietly to himself as he continued to observe the pair move load after load as the night wore on.

As the hour came to a close, the door to the stable cold be seen closing shut.  Business was done for the night.  The stranger having seen all he needed, closed the blinds and wandered to the bed hopping on top and relaxed as he let his guard down.

“Tomorrow.”  He said quietly in the dark as the sleep settled in.  “Tomorrow, we meet Cinder.”

************************************************

The night was quiet aside from the saloon up the street.  Even with the band playing, it could barely be heard halfway across town as Cinder came in through the main door.  The light of the lamp held dim to let the little one sleep, and as he lowered the last of the items from the cart to the floor, the old mule behind him followed close with a box and strap held tight by his mouth.

He came near to the center of the room and lay it close to the light.  As he raised his head to look at Cinder, the mule squinted in the low light to focus on the old stallion.

“You have some good tools here.”  He rambled as if half thinking and talking to the pony.  “Looks better then most of the equipment I’ve seen others bring here in the past.”

“To make the best, you must use the best.”  Cinder said casually without looking at the mule while digging through a box.  As he saw that all was accounted for, he faced him and smiled.

“Thank you for your help tonight.  I couldn’t have brought it all in myself.”  He said sheepishly.

“It’s alright.  I’ve been through worse with other smiths in the past.”  The mule looked over the scattered items on the floor strewn about and shook his head.  “Some of the things I see here are of good quality.  You must have paid dearly for what you have.”  He looked back at the pony curiously.  “If you have such good tools, why aren’t you in the business for yourself?”

“I like to travel.”  Cinder replied with a quick snap.  He went on as the reasons why came to him.  “In order to make a name for yourself, you need to spread a name.  If you stay in one spot, you can’t be known by more than those that are close around you.”  He lifted a hoof and slowly waved it.  “You have to make it known far and wide if you want to go big.”

The mule pursed his lips before he nodded.  “Yes.  I suppose I can see that.  Must a be a lot of work to travel that much though.”

The stallion tightened his face as he looked off to one side.  “More then you know.”

“Well mister, I wish you luck.”  The mule sidestepped the stallion as he kicked at the hay on the ground heading toward the rear exit.  “If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the work.”  Cinder gently nodded to him as the mule progressed through the door and closed it behind him.

The stallion looked back around the room.  A pile of hearth stones, bellows, a few tongs, several hammers, an old vice, the scraps of old projects and most important, the mighty anvil that lay on it’s side in the center of it all.

He knew it would take time to set everything up for work.  The job had to start early the next morning and as promised to the mule, he said he would be ready.

Several items lay strewn on the old hay covered floor as Cinder didn’t have the time to sort it.  He knew the mule had no idea what went where as it wasn’t his job to do so.

The stallion began to dig through one of the piles and search for the most critical of items to start shop work early in the morning.  Grabbing at the scattered hammers with his teeth and pushing old metal aside, a hollow round bell clanked as it broke loose and rolled out from under several items facing upward with the nose protector splitting the two holes on either side.

He glanced at it briefly knowing full well that it was his old helmet.

“I should have thrown you away.”  He grumbled as he took a long gaze at it.  Breaking away, he moved on taking the tools to the other end of the shed and laying them near a wall.  He returned to the pile and picked up another batch of tools as he quickly glanced at it, sparkling in the light of the lantern.

Cinder took the tools aside to the rest of them and came back to another pile closer to the the old helm on the floor.  It was hard for him to stand close and not look at it with the gashes, bent metal and an odd hole or two in it from history not long ago.

In the late night hour, he felt the need to stop.  Pain came over him as he thought of the helmet and what it meant.  It was a link to what once was as far as he was concerned.

Looking down at it in the light, he grabbed at it and lifted it with both hooves to the light lantern.

It still bore the old scars of training, of wear, of repairs he did himself and worst of all, the night he wanted to forget.

He looked intently at the old neglected helm.  It had been polished in the past, but recent neglect left it in the condition it was.  Speckles of rust could be seen and attached plates were bent.  Even the old chain hanging from it was missing a link or two.

The events from that night ran through his mind clear as a bell from that fateful evening four months ago.

It was cold for that day of the season.  The fires of the castle were lit to keep those inside warm.  Below in the lowest chambers one fire burned brighter then the others that belonged to the blacksmith where he toiled and sweat for two weeks straight.  He worked on what was to be the most delicate and laboring of his projects.  The mightly sword of his king.

He spent the hour’s earlier working to the finest detail as requested by his liege through many days earlier.  With pride, he was to show it to him soon as he looked it over searching for the smallest of flaws.  This was to be his finest work of art and his greatest achievement for his deity.

A pounding hoof hammered on the large oak door that provided entry to his shop.  Laying the sword down, Cinder heartily shouted to those on the other side. “Welcome!  Come in!”

The door swing wide as two guards entered through the stone arch.  As each guard quickly posted to either side of the door, both snapped upright and stoic akin to stone statues.  One quickly shouted as a figure stepped to the doorway.  Cinder caught sight of the shadow and lowered himself to the ground in preparation of his king.

“All rise for king Helianthus of the western lands in Equestria!”  The large decorative robe of the king followed him as he stepped into the chamber.  His silver mane and golden coat stood out from the pompadour of his attire.  With a warm smile, his eyes settled on Cinder still covered in sweat and grime behind the anvil.  He smiled wide as he approached the pony.  Behind him walked in his daughter Marigold followed by the prince of the castle Thorne.  Entering with a sneer, he looked around in disgust as he began to gripe.  “Ugh, I can’t stand the lower half of the castle.  It needs to be filled to keep the vermin out.”

Marigold rolled her eyes shaking her head and continued walking further into the room.  She looked at the rows of various weapons that lined the wall continuing her gaze as she looked to the far walls of the room.  Several suits of pony armor lay perched on pedestals and decorated shields hung on the walls.  Finally her eyes landed on Cinder whom still crouched on the floor for the king.

“Hello Cinder…” she said warmly as her eyes met his one from the side.  As he looked at her from the floor, he quickly winked back as he snickered softly.  She sat and quickly batted her eyelashes before the king came closer to the blacksmith.

“Ah yes, Cinder!”  He king yelled with a hearty greeting as he lifted a hoof.  “Please, arise from your hooves.  I see you have been hard at work again.  I do believe the progress is going well, is it not?”

Cinder nodded in agreement as he stood, held the sword up and turned it slowly admiring it.  “My finest work my king.  Nothing less than the very best my forge, my anvil and I can promise.”  He lowered his head and with it perched in hoof, he provided the blade to the sovereign whom took it and and ran his eyes down from the tip to the hilt.

“Yes.  Excellent work I dare say.”  The kind backed upa step and with a deft swipe, unlatched the clasp that held his cape around his neck.  As it fell to the ground, the golden pony grasped the blade tightly around the end with a knuckle and swung it wide in front of himself with fervor.  “Ah ha!”  He shouted enthusiastically in jest as he jumped back and swiped the sword in another arc.  Quickly crossing it across his stern, he pulled back and twice thrusted the sword forward with a jab.  “YAH!”

Cinder nodded with approval smiling and knocking both front hooves together for the spectacle.  “Good show I do say my liege.  Does it balance well?”

“Light as a feather and stronger then a dragon’s tooth I must admit!” The king looked wide eyed in admiration at the sword before he shifted his focus to Cinder.  “Better yet, I challenge you a duel!  What do you say!?”  His expression went wild with elation as he dared the blacksmith to the challenge.

Cinder could only hold frozen for a moment.  He was not used to training at an hour this late outside of the normal schedule set for the king.  Before he waited too long, he shook himself loose and stood tall with pride to the kind word.  “Your wish is my command my liege!”  Quickly, the pony untied the leather robe he wore for crafting and lifted it off over his head.  He reached for the nearest hook and threw it over landing securely on it with a flop.  It lightly swayed as it draped down covered in soot.

The stallion looked across the room and sought the training rod he had used many times before.  Standing upright in the furthest corner, he trotted over, lifted the wooden sword with a knuckle and spun it once feeling the weight in his hooves.  Nodding in approval, he carried it back to the center of the room standing close to the king.

Cinder lowered the wooden rod to the ground and picked up a leather sheath laying nearby on the ground next to the anvil.  “I would not want you to have an advantage on me hour highness.”  Cinder said with a smile.  The king laughed heartily.  “You will need every advantage you can muster tonight!  For I have trained well and will best you this time!”

Cinder briefly recalled the sessions he spent with the king in the past.  Still not the most skilled with a blade, the king was gaining ground against the blacksmith in his efforts.  Cinder would still take it easy on the old pony, but knew with the new sword, he would have to show his best.

The sheath was placed firmly over the new sword by cinder as the king hald fast to it.  With a long length of leather strap, Cinder secured it to the hilt and tied it tight.  He gave a quick tug to the sheath and once satisfied it would not come off, he looked to the king with a nod.  “Alright my liege, we are now ready.”

“Can we get this over already?”  Thorne yelled to the pair in the room in between his peeling nail from a hoof with his teeth.  “I have more IMPORTANT things to do tonight such as file down my hooves.”

Marigold shook her head at Thorne in disagreement as she answered him.  “You truly have no respect, do you?”

“You will witness the ability of your king to truly master this fine blade tonight Thorne!”  Helianthus said angrily.  “You will also show respect to my blacksmith.  Few have mastered the tempering of steel he has.”  The king then quickly swung the blade around with the sheath affixed to feel the weight and balance.

“Blacksmith!  Your training is second to few and I challenge you! “ The king heartily shouted in jest.  “I advise you to come at me with all that can for I am far more skilled then you!  What say thou!?”  Cinder grinned as he took part in the play the king brought about as part of the routine.  He quickly donned his training helmet perched on a pedestal and spun the wooden sword before himself before pointing it directly at the king.  “I do accept your challenge oh enlightened one.  Let us duel this night for the grace and glory of Equestia!”

The king quickly shot forward with the sheathed blade directly at Cinder from across the room.  “Yah!”  Ducking the sword, Cinder rolled over on the ground beneath him and jumped to his feet with a skip backward.  Helianthus watched his movement and shifted his weight to bring the sword down on him just as Cinder jumped aside.

“Quick you are tonight!”  The king laughed.  “Come now Cinder!  Strike if you can!”

The blacksmith dodged each swipe of the sword as it flew through threw the air with a wide arc.  The older aged king was slower then he, but to give him a good fight was the essence of life for him.  Little else gave him the feeling of youth then to train with Cinder and the blacksmith was more then happy to oblige.

The pair danced about the room with the wooden sword swiping high over the head of the king just he ducked or the sheathed sword swinging low as Cinder leaped high above it.  As the king quickly tired, Cinder decided to make his move.  Ducking the sword of his master, he quickly brought the wooden rod up and slapped it upward over the head of the king.  With a quick rollover, Cinder flipped onto his back and pulled the wooden sword in close to himself before he thrust it forward into the abdomen of his king to end the duel.

Instead of a dull thud as would normally follow a wooden strike, the tip of the rod had broken.  The end of the rod split away revealing a long thin blade that pierced the chest of the king.

King Helianthus screamed out in pain with the blade diving in deep.  His teeth and eyes clenched as he collapsed to the floor grunting loudly in pain holding his chest where he had been struck.

Cinder lay on the ground shocked.  This was not part of the training.  Nopony was to be hurt.  He quickly shuffled over to the king still struggling with the pain as his daughter Marigold saw what had happened and fell to the side of her father in cries of agony.  “No!  Father, no!”  She held up his head as he struggled to breathe holding him close before looking to Cinder.

The blacksmith dropped the wooden sword with the attached blade in disbelief.  “But…it was a training sword! Nopony was to be injured!”  He crawled close to the head of the king as he shook his head still aghast at the events that unfolded.  “My king! Stay alive!”

The old stallion on the floor coughed as he struggled to focus on his daughter.  He fought to swallow as she leaned her head in close to him.  With a low murmur, the king spoke to her while she held him close to her ear.  Then, as if with the passing of the wind, his head went limp in her arms.

“Murderer.”  Thorne said slowly with macabre to all in the room.  He lifted a hoof to Cinder and intently stared at him as he went on.  “You knew exactly what you were doing when you deliberately attached a blade that training sword.”  Thorne stepped closer.  “You intended to overthrow our king to rule the western lands with his daughter.”  As he stopped above the body of the king he shouted louder to all.  “I see you for what you are, murderer!  Justice will be served!  Guards!  Seize this pony!”

The guards still standing close by in the door to witness the action quickly moved forward and tackled Cinder as he stood.

“I protest!”  The blacksmith yelled as he fought the guards.  “My sword was tampered!  I did not kill the king!”

“All those in the room tonight witnessed you do so Cinder.”  Thorne said gravely.  “Your punishment will be the most severe the law of pony will allow me.  Justice will be done!”  Following his words, Thorne quickly lifted a hoof and whisked it to the door as the guards fought to hold onto the pony while walking down the hall.  His cries of protest resonated in the hallway as he was dragged by the pair to the dungeon hold below.

“I am innocent!  I did no wrong!  Let me go!  Let me-“

A hoof from one of the guards came down hard across his muzzle in a flash of pain and stars in his head.

“The dungeon will never be good enough for an assassin!”  One guard yelled at him.  The other followed up as he was hit again from the other side.  “Our lord and savior taken from us by a blacksmith!

“NO!”  Cinder screamed in the dim light of the hall as he fought to get away as the pain kept coming with repeated blows and kicks.  His head and body stung from the pain as he continued to plea to the pair.  “NO!  I WAS FRAMED! PLEASE, YOU HAVE TO-“

Cinder dropped the helm as it slipped from his hooves.  It fell to the floor with a crash and with a ring of hollow metal, he snapped him from the memory causing him to swing an arm to fight off the guard that was no longer there.

The sweat covered him heavily.  Shaking with quick gasps of air and a dry swallow left him awake with fear in the old barn.  The nightmare was gone.  Nopony was there after him tonight.  At least, not now.

Cinder slowed his breathing as he looked up to the loft where the little Pegasi still lay sleeping.  From what he remembered, she didn't move from where he last remembered her being.  She likely didn't stir at all.

The stallion picked himself up and left the helm where it lay in the hay.  Crawling into his small stall, he leaned against the weathered old wall as his senses returned to normal.

"This can't go on forever..."  He mumbled to himself as the fatigue from the day settled in and he drifted off to a uneasy sleep for the night.