The Legend of Bucephoron

Bucephoron walked back from the path leading up to the oracle. Despite it being the middle of the night, Bucephoron was no longer tired. The excitement of Khresmoi’s revelation left Bucephoron wide awake. He paced around the entrance of the camp where the other ponies were sleeping. What did Nertia’s message mean, he must reach higher than any other pegasus? He looked back at his wings and sighed.

A dark thought crossed Bucephoron’s mind. Could Nertia be playing him for a fool? There were plenty of stories of how the alicorns considered normal ponies beneath them and manipulated them for fun. She had gotten his hopes up back in Nimbus only to have him fail in desperation. Maybe this was another one of the alicorn’s little jokes, giving Bucephoron a prophecy of hope and leaving him to flail about trying to fulfill it to her amusement. Bucephoron did not know whether to be more angry at this possibility or to kick himself for falling for it in the first place. He looked back up toward the oracle and shook his head. He did not know what to think anymore. Bucpehoron went over his thoughts and decided that no matter what, his first task should be at least to clear his head. Bucephoron looked up at the moon, clear and bright in the sky. A wave of exhaustion washed over him again. He walked back to the spot where Khresmoi had found him sleeping and lay down on the dirt.

The sun was just beginning to rise over the mountains as Bucephoron awoke to the bustle of the crowd. Other ponies, earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns alike, were milling around the area. Many of them were rolling up the mats they slept on the previous night or getting food or drink from stalls set up around the camp. Several ponies had moved to line up on the path, and Bucephoron found himself amidst this crowd. He gathered up his belongings in his saddlebags and began pushing his way down the path away from the mountain. Once ponies noticed the armor he was wearing and the spear on his back, they gave him a wide berth and allowed him to progress down the mountain with little fuss.

Bucephoron looked up at Mount Helicon. The slope of the mountain seemed steep even from the foothills. The grey rock face loomed above him as the trees thinned out a short way up. As he squinted, the top of the peak seemed to be lost in the vastness of the sky out of range of his vision. Bucephoron's eyes strained as he tried to focus on the peak. The strain hurt his temples and he felt his chest tighten. His vision started becoming blurry and he had to rest for a moment. Bucephoron sat down and took deep gulping breaths. He realized he had been holding his breath while focusing. After he had recovered, Bucephoron took a hard look up the side of the mountain again and began climbing.

After a week of climbing, Bucephoron had reached a forested region of the mountain. The armor was big for a young stallion such as Bucephoron and sat heavy on his back, but he continued wearing it just in case he ran into a wild animal.

Bucephoron's gait slowed the further into the forest he went. The trees were different from the ones in the forest around Nimbus. Rather than deciduous trees, the majority here were pines and firs. Fallen needles were scattered around the ground and crunched under Bucephoron's hooves. There was no real path here. He wondered how often the alicorns ever came this far down the mountain. Until the recent visits to him by Inertia, he had never heard of the alicorns interacting with regular ponies in recent memory. But there was the oracle, so they must have occasional contact.

As Bucephoron was pushing his way through the underbrush, he came to a large clearing. Thick evergreens surrounded the clearing, blocking out much of the sunlight entering the patch of needles and dirt. Bucephoron looked around warily as he stepped cautiously out of the trees. The soft earth beneath Bucephoron's hooves became hard. Each step crackled as the dirt gave way to a hard gray material. Bucephoron looked down at his hooves. Underneath the needles, the ground was a deep black, and left black smudges on his hooves.

Bucephoron sniffed the air daintily. A faint smell of a fire reached his nose and mixed with the scent of the pine trees around him. Bucephoron stepped further into the clearing. The caustic smell grew stronger and overwhelmed all other scents. When he was almost to the center, he started coughing. Tendrils of smoke wafted into his nostrils.

The crack of a branch near the opposite edge of the clearing made Bucephoron freeze on the spot mid-step. He lowered his hoof slowly as his eyes darted around. The thick forest beyond revealed nothing but darkness. His hoof rested on a bald patch of ground. He slowly lowered his head to get a closer look at what the ground below him was, while keeping an eye on the far edge of the clearing. The clearing was floored with small black chunks of charcoal and burnt, blackened pieces of wood.

The entire clearing was littered with a layer of charcoal above the dirt. Bucephoron drew his head up again and peered into the forest ahead. Another loud crack emanated from the trees. Bucephoron started and took a deep breath. That was a big mistake. He inhaled more charcoal dust and smoke and went into another coughing fit.

It took another minute for Bucephoron to clear his throat, but at last the burning sensation went away. He stepped forward toward the other side of the clearing. He could see smoke now, coming out of a large gap between two massive evergreens. He glanced around. The path that he came through on was the only other entrance into the clearing.

“Hello?” Bucephoron said. Suddenly he realized how alone he was. The only noise was the hissing of the smoke. But if there was smoke, there had to be something there. He peered into the darkness. A large shape was barely discernable, but Bucephoron could not make out what it was.

Suddenly, through the smoke, a glowing red pair of eyes appeared. And then another smaller pair appeared above them. A low growl arose from the forest. “What’s out there?” Bucephoron stepped back a pace. The growling grew louder as the pairs of eyes continued staring. Gradually, the creature resolved itself and stepped forward into the clearing.

The paws and snout of a lion materialized from the darkness. The creature moved toward Bucephoron slowly. Its gaze still focused intently on Bucephoron. Smoke rose up from the creature’s snout. With every exhalation, a low growl rumbled from the creature’s chest and a steady stream of smoke puffed from its snout. Bucephoron continued to slowly back away. The creature crept forward, and the source of the other pair of eyes was revealed. The head and neck of a goat rose straight up from the middle of the lion’s back. As it continued forward, the tail of the creature curved above over the goat head. At the end of the tail was the head of a snake. It’s mouth was wide open and it hissed angrily at Bucephoron.

Bucephoron gulped. It was a dreaded chimera. He looked around at the charcoal ground covering. “Oh, um, did I disturb your nest?” The slits of the lion eyes stared him down.

The chimera crouched, pushing its goat head forward. Bucephoron and the chimera stared at each other. Bucephoron slowly crept back, but the chimera remained unmoving. One moment, the goat head let out a loud, short bleat. Bucephoron jumped back at the sudden noise and reared up on his back hooves. Suddenly, the lion head of the chimera ducked, and the middle goat head sprayed a breath of hot flame out toward Bucephoron. He barely had time to shift his weight onto his left back hoof and dove to the right to avoid the incoming fireball. Bucephoron yelped at the intense heat of the flame as he dodged it. He quickly recovered his balance and stood up. The chimera was turning to face him.

Bucephoron looked back at his saddlebag. Thinking quickly, he retrieved the spear with his mouth and whipped it around, brandishing the solid metal tip. The chimera lunged at Bucephoron. He planted his back hooves into the ground to solidify his stance, and turned his head to maneuver the spear to face the chimera. The chimera charged and bore down on Bucephoron with a loud roar. It brought its left forepaw back, extending its claws as it prepared to swipe. In one movement, Bucephoron darted to the creature’s right and whipped his neck to pierce the side of the chimera with the spear.

The spear tip flashed as it whizzed through the air and struck the chimer with a thunk. But instead of piercing the chimera’s flesh, it scraped along the beast’s thick hide. The spear handle jerked violently and dislodged itself from Bucephoron’s mouth. It flew off to the side and clattered on the ground. Bucephoron stumbled as his head reeled from the awkward movement.

The chimera yowled as the spear struck its shoulder. The goat let out a quick burst of flame that burned the needles atop one of the trees at the clearing’s edge. Bucephoron rushed over to the fallen spear in preparation for the chimera’s next attack. However, he caught a glimpse of its side, shaded orange in the reflection of the flame. The spear had barely made a scratch in the vicious creature’s hide. He would have no chance of slaying the chimera. Bucephoron looked back at the edge of the clearing. He was only twenty feet away. If he could reach the path, he could try to find some other way up the mountain.

He turned back to the chimera. It was lowering its lion head in preparation for another burst of flame. Bucephoron picked up the spear in his mouth and turned to face the chimera. As the goat head bleated, he turned and hoofed it down the path out of the clearing. The chimera roared furiously as it searched around for him. He kept running blindly down the path until the chimera’s growling was muffled to nothing by the thick forest. Once he was far enough out of reach, Bucephoron stopped to catch his breath and looked back down the path. His heart was pounding, but he guessed he was safe. He walked cautiously down the path, wondering what other creatures lurked in the forest. As his heart calmed, he noticed that his hooves ached. He brushed aside some needles to clear a soft patch of dirt at the side of the narrow path and set his saddlebag down close to him. He nestled down to rest, but did not dare take off the armor and kept the spear close by. Bucephoron closed his eyes and tried to sleep. His exhaustion from the fight soon overwhelmed his fear, and he drifted off.

Bucephoron woke at dawn the next day and began making his way around the forested paths surrounding Mount Helicon to find another way he could make his way up the peak. He searched for weeks, but each time he found a path, it would stop at a dense part of the forest or at a sheer cliffside. Bucephoron hung his head as he encountered yet another cliff. He turned and glumly looked at his wings. If only he could fly. He sullenly walked back down the base of the mountain.

A few days of wandering led Bucephoron to the village of Oropedeia, near the bottom of the network of roads on the north side of Mount Helicon. The village was small but crowded. Ponies of all types wandered the streets, but they parted as Bucephoron walked down the path. He stopped in an inn. As bucephoron entered, the dining area went silent. The innkeeper rushed up to Bucephoron. He looked around.

"Why's everypony so quiet?" Bucephoron asked, bemused by the reaction he received.

"It is an honor to have your presence here." The innkeeper said, bowing.

"What?"

"You do not know?" The innkeeper was shocked. "You are the pegasus who challenged the chimera, yes?” Bucephoron looked around and gave an uncertain nod. “That monster has plagued our lands for years, burning our fields. We do not know why the alicorns sent it upon our peaceful village. But you! You have dared to fight it and returned in one piece! Not even the greatest stallions produced by our village have been able to go up to the mountainside and attack the chimera!"

Bucephoron beamed with pride at the accolades being poured on him by the innkeeper. He did not expect word of his fighting the chimera to spread, or for it to get him such a welcome. He had only encountered the chimera briefly and run away, not done anything heroic.

The innkeeper went over to a table and bade Bucephoron follow him. "I insist that you eat here. I will fetch you a plate of hay." Before Bucephoron could object, the innkeeper trotted off to the kitchens.

Bucephoron slid the saddlebags off his side and set them on the ground along with his helm. The edges of the armor chafed at his sides and back. His helm was dirty, and several splotches had lost their sheen as the dingy green color of rust invaded the orange edges of the copper helm. Perhaps he could find a blacksmith somewhere in the village to restore the armor and make it fit him better.

As Bucephoron set the helm down, he was mobbed by a crowd of eager ponies. They were all offering to shake his hoof and praising his courage for facing the chimera alone.

“We are so grateful for you challenging the chimera,” one of the citizens said gleefully. “Now the village knows that somepony can at last stand up to the creature.” The other ponies surrounding Bucephoron nodded in agreement.

“Yes, the village will be safe soon,” another added.

“We can finally have a bountiful harvest without fear of the chimera coming down to the fields and burning our crops. The closest villages are over a day’s journey away. Relying on them for imports has been difficult, and we’ve had to ration out our food.”

“But finally, a champion has arrived!” The pony in the middle of the crowd proclaimed. The rest of the crowd let out a visible sigh of relief. It felt as if a great breeze had blown through the inn and taken a heavy burden off of everypony’s shoulders.

Bucephoron looked around curiously. He could see where the fawning over him was headed, and grew nervous. “Excuse me, but I only accidentally ran into the chimera on my way to Mount Helicon. I was not trying to defeat it.”

The crowd did not hear him, or at least it seemed like they didn’t. They carried on about the inevitable defeat of the chimera and his protests went unheard. Bucephoron sighed and scowled. They were heaping unworthy praise on him for doing nothing but surviving an attack by the chimera. And now the villagers were insisting that he would be their hero and take on the horrendous beast again, and this time defeat it. The mere thought of taking on the chimera again sent a burning tingle down his back that reminded him of the singed hair the beast had left him with after their encounter. He was just trying to reach the top of Mount Helicon, not defeat the chimera. As soon as he found another way up the mountain, he would leave the village and go up that path. It was undoubtedly easier than facing the chimera again.

And yet, as the ponies of Oropedeia continued to shower him with praise and thank the alicorns for their good fortune at him stumbling upon them, Bucephoron could not help but feel sorry for them. Were these ponies any less worthy of being helped than the ponies suffering from the drought in Tritopolis and Nimbus. Of course they weren’t. In fact, Oropedeia probably had it worse. With the chimera terrorizing the village they now relied on food from other villages. With the ongoing drought, the amount of food that could be afforded to export to Oropedeia was likely growing scarcer and scarcer as well. And now they had their saviour, he thought. As he mulled it over, Bucephoron realized he did not want to let these ponies down. Surely he was capable of defeating the chimera. If he intended to reach the top of Mount Helicon, he would have to be able to defeat the chimera. Confidence swelled within him as he brought himself up from the table.

“I shall do it!” Bucephoron loudly proclaimed to the crowd of ponies. “Give me a few weeks, and I will come up with a way to defeat the chimera.” A resounding cheer filled the inn, and Bucephoron suddenly realized the task he had set himself. It was daunting, but he could do it. No, he had to.

The innkeeper came back with a plate piled high with hay. Bucephoron’s stomach cried out with joy as he saw the hay. The innkeeper set the plate down on the table and he looked around quizzically. “What’s with all the commotion. I do hope that these ponies haven’t been giving you any trouble.”

“Oh no, not at all.” Bucephoron replied. “I was telling them how I was going to defeat the chimera.” Bucephoron bent down and scooped up a large bundle of hay in his mouth.

The innkeeper gasped, shock and delight running across his face. “You will? O, what a joyous day.” The innkeeper nearly galloped off back to the kitchen. Bucephoron smiled as he watched the innkeeper leave. Was that really all it took for ponies to admire him? He started to imagine the veneration Oropedeia would give him if - no, once - once he defeated the chimera.

Bucephoron waved away the crowd of ponies, after again assuring them that he would rid them of the chimera. He chewed each mouthful of hay slowly and deliberately as he thought. He had to come up with a plan of attack against the creature. Bucephoron had acted on instinct during his first encounter and had charged recklessly at the beast. The tingling feeling cropped up against on his back and reminded him of how that had gone. He needed a way to counter the spitting flame. Bucephoron wracked his brain as he ate. However, his brain was as devoid of ideas as the plains around Tritopolis were of rainwater. Not even a trickle emerged from his thinking. He looked down at his empty plate and saw the reflection of the moonlight.

Perhaps a night’s rest would freshen his mind. He called for the innkeeper and set a few bits on the plate. The innkeeper protested, but Bucephoron shoved the coins at the stallion’s chest until he agreed to take them. He paid for a room upstairs and again had to thrust a number of coins at the innkeeper as the pony’s objections bubbled up again. Bucephoron felt a headache coming on and nearly demanded the stallion take the money. The innkeeper finally relented though and took Bucephoron’s money. Relieved, Bucephoron carried his saddlebags wearily up to the second floor of the inn and collapsed on the bed of straw next to where he had set his saddlebags and armor.

The next day, Bucephoron was snoring soundly when the morning sun so rudely interrupted his dreams. He put a hoof over his eyes as he opened them and slowly raised himself off the straw. He leaned down and stretched out his back. Bucephoron did feel well rested after the events the previous night, and sat down at the window looking out at the village to collect his thoughts. The village of Oropedeia was nearly entirely laid out before him. It was small, even smaller than Nimbus. Only one main pathway led through the village, and on either side it was only a few buildings thick before the small urban spot faded out into the dense forest on one side and the scant fallow fields on the other. The ponies of Oropedeia were already going about the village despite the sun only just having risen. The inn was on one end of the village, and a small empty space further down the road signified the plaza that was the center of town.

Bucephoron went back over to the lump of straw that was his bed and bent down to collect the breastplate and helmet. The sun shining through the window reflected off Bucephorno’s armor. It was not the shining glint of a clean set of armor it had been when Graupel had worn it. Over his long travels and frequent wear, the gleaming copper and bronze surface of the helm and breastplate had faded to a dull orange. Black grime and rust was beginning to creep its way into the metalwork from the edges. Even just from picking it up, a visible coat of dust was covering the breastplate. Bucephoron held the chest piece in his hooves and looked at the crest on the center. It was a red and blue shield emblazoned with a golden horseshoe. Flanking the shield were two outstretched wings, sky blue in color. It was the crest of Nimbus that proudly gave the town its identity and spoke to its pegasus heritage. But now, the dirt and dust defiled the piece and dulled its colors. Bucephoron frowned.

Bucephoron gathered up the armor. He thought about donning it for a moment, but remembered his intention to take it to a blacksmith. He hoped there was a blacksmith in this village. He slung the armor over his back so they rested on his saddlebags and trotted down the stairs.

The innkeeper was laying out logs in the great hearth that dominated the large entry room of the inn’s ground floor. “Sir?” Bucephoron called, walking up to the innkeeper. “Is there a blacksmith in this village?”

The innkeeper rummaged in the hearth a second longer then looked up and blinked. His terra cotta coat was splotched with black soot. He smiled pleasantly after recognizing Bucephoron. “Ah, yes, certainly. Go down the road and it’s one of the buildings on the side of the main plaza toward the mountain.”

“Thank you,” Bucephoron bowed his head slightly. The innkeeper turned back to the hearth. Bucephoron left the innkeeper to his work and trotted out the front of the inn. He turned right and headed down the small path that served as the village’s thoroughfare toward the plaza. The plaza up ahead, like the path, was dusty and uneven. There was no proper paving or smoothing like he had found in Tritopolis and even Nimbus. Bucephoron’s hooves had become strong from his travels, but they still complained at pawing the Oropedeia roads. Bucephoron ignored the feeling and entered the plaza, looking around at the signs on the surrounding facades. The town hall, a meager two story wooden building with a small bell tower jutting up from above the large doors, was on his right. Bucephoron looked up at Mount Helicon to the left and trotted across the plaza. Across from the town hall he found the craftspony shops he was looking for. A sign with a frothy beer mug indicated a tavern on the corner of the plaza. Next to it was a farrier, and next to that he finally found the sign with an anvil; the blacksmith. Bucephoron whinnied at this progress and opened the door of the small shop.

The shop was dark aside from the soft red glow of the furnace on the left wall. “Hello?” Bucephoron called into the darkness. His throat stung with the faint air of smoke the permeated the room.

A pony stumbled out of the darkness from the back of the shop. “Oh, hello,” he said in a deep, hoarse voice. It was an earth pony with a rust colored coat and an anvil emblazoned on both his flanks. “What can I do you for?” The pony said before coughing loudly..

“I need someone to repair and clean my armor. It’s gotten pretty rusty.” Bucephoron nodded back toward his saddlebag where the dirty helm stuck out of the open top.

“Hm,” the blacksmith said thoughtfully, “sure, I could fix up your armor for you.”

Bucephoron took the armor out of his saddlebags and laid it out on a nearby table. "Thank you. How much do I owe you for your service?"

The blacksmith eyed the armor, poking at it with a hoof. He scraped a hoof along the chestplate and sniffed it. "Hmm, it's pretty rusted. Might be a few days of work. I'd say fifty bits, traveller."

Bucephoron grunted. He didn't have near that kind of money on him. He hesitated a moment. "Look, I don't have that much on me..." he pawed at the floor and hung his head. "But, what if I said I was going to kill the chimera that's been attacking Oropedeia. I just need that armor fixed."

The blacksmith pony raised his bushy tan eyebrows. "Well sure, if you can defeat the chimera then I'd gladly repair it. But still, it’ll take a few days. What you've got there is practically rusting straight through!" The blacksmith pointed at the armor with disdain.

Bucephoron thought for a moment. "What if I were to help you around here?" I've tried my hand at metalwork a time at my father's shop, and that could free you up to work on my armor."

The blacksmith scratched his chin with a hoof and looked Bucephoron up and down. After a long pause, the blacksmith smiled. "Sure, you look like a strong pony. I could use a hand around here."

Bucephoron beamed. His heroics, even more his not-yet-heroics, was gaining him respect and rewards from the townsponies. He happily went to work hammering horseshoes and fixing all sorts of metal odds and ends for the ponies of Oropedeia.

He worked at the blacksmith's for three days while the blacksmith fixed up his armor. He had been so caught up in this work that he had not formed a plan to defeat the chimera. However, on the final day, a pony came in asking for a molded lead plate. As he was heating the lead to pour into the mold, Bucephoron got an idea. The molten silvery substance flowing into the flat iron surface reminded Bucephoron of the chimera's ability to breathe fire.

Later that day, the blacksmith brought Bucephoron his armor. Even in the dingy confines of the blacksmith shop, Bucephoron was amazed at how much his helm and breastplate gleamed. The fire of the furnace were a radiant orange on the smooth copper armor. It gleamed as if Bucephoron were watching a beautiful sunset inside the shop.

“You have done me a great honor," Bucephoron said staring into his helmet. He put it on his head and sighed with happiness. It no longer rubbed at his ears as it had before.

"I noticed it wa a tad small for a pony of your size," the blacksmith smiled, "so I also reshaped some parts to make it fit better."

Bucephoron strapped on the chestpiece of the barding and felt a well of confidence rise up in him. "I'm ready to face that chimera now," he said boldly. "Thank you sir. There is just one more thing I need of you before I can slay the beast."

"Anything, if you'll rid us of the chimera."

Bucephoron nodded. He went over to a small iron mold with a diamond shaped impression in it. Bucephoron took the cauldron of lead he had simmering over the furnace and gingerly tipped it. Silvery liquid trickled into the mold until it was full.

"What are you doing?" The blacksmith peered over Bucephoron's shoulder as he worked silently.

A few minutes later, Bucephoron stepped back and reached for his spear. He undid the binding of the point to the shaft, dropping the spearpoint back into his saddlebag. "I'm refashioning my spear. With this, I can defeat the chimera once and for all." He brought the spear up with the lead point attached and brandished it upward."

Bucephoron gathered his saddlebags and left the blacksmith's shop for the fourth day in a row. This time, however, he did not go back to the inn but trekked west out of Oropedeia on the same path he had taken before. The townsponies watched him curiously. Now fully dressed in his polished copper barding, Bucephoron shone like the great warrior Aethon during the corralling of the Sun.

Bucephoron soon returned to the clearing where he had first encountered the chimera. The forest was deathly silent as he stepped confidently through the blackened stretch of ground. Acrid smoke still tainted the air from Bucephoron’s last battle with the chimera. Bucephoron sniffed the air cautiously. A low rumbling in the distance brought his ears to attention.

The rumbling grew louder and resolved itself into the chimera’s ferocious growl as it neared the clearing, sensing Bucephoron’s return. Bucephoron dug his hooves into the ground in preparation of the beast’s return.

A minute passed as the growl grew louder. Rather than plunging headfirst into the clearing, the chimera slowly and quietly stepped out from the shadow of the trees. Its three heads were all glaring at Bucephoron. As its lion head sniffed the air for Bucephoron’s scent, its six yellow eyes narrowed and its lion and snake heads bared their teeth at him.

Bucephoron stood steadfast as the sun gleamed off his armor. The chimera peered down at him, before every head smirked.

Suddenly, the chimera charged across the clearing, throwing a hot ball of flame at Bucephoron. Bucephoron darted to the side to avoid the incoming fireball and ran around the side of the clearing.

The chimera skidded and continued chasing him as the two ran around the black spot of earth.

“I know I saw it around here somewhere,” Bucephoron thought. He was disoriented from running around the clearing. The armor clunked against his side, but his body was strong yet and the armor no longer chafed. He kept peace with the chimera and continued avoiding its flame.

Suddenly, Bucephoron saw the opportunity he was seeking. A small crag of rock jutting out behind a stand of oak trees. Bucephoron angled toward the trees and dashed behind the undergrowth.

The chimera snarled as it stopped and looked around. Its eyes became slits as all three heads peered into the forest beyond to try and spot the small, agile Bucephoron amidst the general darkness of the forest.

Bucephoron scrambled up the rocky outcropping, hoping the chimera would not see his plan in time. The rock was not tall, barely twice a pony’s height and its top was still the same height of the thicker bottom branches of the taller surrounding trees. However, it was as good a vantage point as Bucephoron needed.

He turned and gripped the shaft of the spear, slowly drawing it from his side with his mouth. Bucephoron turned back toward the clearing, and yelled to the chimera. “Where are you, you mongrel! What, can’t find me when I’m not out in the open?” He shouted through the spear shaft.

The chimera snorted and immediately sharpened its gaze on Bucephoron. He peered through the loose branches at the chimera as it arched its back and prepared to charge.

As it was about to lunge forward, Bucephoron went into a gallop and off the top of the rock. He used one of the thicker oak branches as a springboard to launch himself even higher, and burst out of the top of the clearing just above the chimera’s full height.

The chimera roared as it stumbled back, trying to follow Bucephoron’s flight arc over its head. Bucephoron stretched his wings to give himself as much lift as possible, even though he knew it would not do much good. What mattered was that it did enough. As Bucephoron glided above the chimera, its goat head bleated another ball of flame at him. That was when Bucephoron saw his chance.

In a quick twist of his head, Bucephoron thrust the spear downward toward the blast of fire. It stuck in the goat head’s throat and the beast yowled in pain as Bucephoron landed in the middle of the clearing with a thud. He kept his momentum and galloped to the other end of the clearing before turning back to face the chimera. The beast filled with a terrible rage began to charge him and prepared another fireball. Bucephoron started to flee the next blast, but stopped as the flame sputtered. The goat head coughed as its throat filled with the molten lead of the spear tip that the blacksmith had attached to the weapon. Bucephoron watched triumphantly as the chimera writhed in pain and fell to the ground. After several minutes, the chimera at last lay unmoving. Bucephoron walked up to the creature, and saw that it was dead.

Bucephoron returned to Oropedeia three days later. As he trotted into town, the ponies all swarmed out of their homes to greet him. Bucephoron was overwhelmed by the response of the Oropedeians ponies, and greatly flattered. They heralded him as a great hero and insisted he visit the mayor to proclaim his victory.

“Well, if you insist,” Bucephoron blushed. He let the ponies lead him to the town hall on the opposite side of the main square from where the blacksmith was. The mayor’s office on the second floor of the town hall was spartan, with simple wooden floors and furnishings. The walls were nearly completely bare, except for a coat of arms as high as a pony on the side wall. A portrait of a stern stallion with golden coat and neatly cropped earth colored mane adorned the wall opposite the coat of arms. Between the two wall coverings, the mayor sat at her desk. “Mayor Thera,” a pony stepped forward. Bucephoron recognized the pony as the innkeeper.

Thera lifted her head, her green eyes drooping from fatigue. “Yes?” She asked wearily. Thera jumped when she saw the crowd of excited ponies behind the innkeeper.

“I bring wondrous news!” The innkeeper pushed Bucephoron in front of the crowd. “This heroic pony,” he paused, grasping for the name.

“Bucephoron,” Bucephoron provided after a few seconds of silence.

“Bucephoron,” the innkeeper repeated nodding, “has slain the chimera! We are safe again!”

The tired despondence that had surrounded Thera almost immediately left her as the emotion that had filled the rest of the town at least reached her as well. “You did?” In almost an instant, Thera had crossed her desk and was shaking Bucephoron’s forehoof in her own. “Oh, thank you Bucephoron, for ridding us of that menace. Now the town can rest easily again! What ever can we do to thank you.”

Bucephoron lowered his head toward the mayor. “Oh, you don’t need to do anything, your excellency.” The mayor raised an eyebrow at Bucephoron’s formality. “I just need some time to rest and recuperate here before I move on.”

“Oh, certainly, you can stay here as long as you like.” The mayor said cheerfully.

“Free of charge too.” The innkeeper, standing at Bucephoron’s side still, winked. “I’d be glad to offer the new Hero of Oropedeia a free room.”

Thera beamed at the innkeeper. “What an excellent idea.” She turned back to Bucephoron. “We must hold a parade in celebration of the chimera’s defeat. I will have a medal fashioned that will be awarded to you then.”

Bucephoron’s heart swelled with pride at the idea of recognition for his deed. He smiled warmly at the idea. “Wonderfull. And thank you most kindly for the room,” Bucephoron nodded to the innkeeper.

Three days later, a grand ceremony - grand for Oropedeia, anyway - was held and Bucephoron was paraded up and down the main thoroughfare of the town and around the central square. The mayor presented Bucephoron with a small circular medal that she pinned to his armor. Its pure gold face shimmered in the sunlight. The medal had the heads of the lioness, goat, and snake embossed on it with a silhouette of Mount Helicon behind the menacing chimera. Bucephoron felt his confidence surge as the medal was pinned to his tunic.

Bucephoron remained in Oropedeia for several weeks, and as the town celebrated the defeat of the chimera, his fame spread along the roads and waterways of the continent. Neighboring towns heard of Bucephoron’s heroism, and their kings and mayors sought him out to perform tasks for them. Bucephoron always aided in whatever request was made of him. He wanted to help out the towns, but more and more Bucephoron went on these quests out of a lust for fame and the good fortune that went with it. He would earn several nights of free lodging whenever he journeyed to the town, and he built up more and more rewards and accolades. Before long the days frew shorter and shorter. Even so, the sun still bore down hard upon the lands, and rains were as infrequent as ever.