Guardian of the Sun

by Hinterland Seer

Blaze Burn was a simple pegasus, just trying to keep him and his brother alive after the destruction wrought by Discord. Unfortunately, he found himself with all the wrong and right ponies in his struggle to free his friends and family from utter chaos. As time passes, he finds himself in walks of life he never imagined existed, like being sought after by Princess Celestia herself.

25. Eldur Enraged

Chapter 25: Eldur Enraged

Having finally dealt with that issue, for the most part, Blaze and Asta hopped down from the hay roof, deciding that the huge effort gone into that flight was more than enough. A relaxing walk in the snow would suffice.

The two walked back home, supporting each other emotionally; since she really needed him to be there for her and he needed somepony to keep him rooted there in the moment. Fear and anxiety were old friends of his, but that didn't mean he was able to suffer with them all the time, and after this wave of an emotional day, nothing would help keep him from drowning in his emotions than having his sister by his side. And to ensure that she stayed there, he had tucked her under his wing, finding the position instantly easing his troubled state. He knew she needed it too, as she had worked her way as tightly against his side as she could while still being able to walk.

The walk back was silent for them, and the few ponies that they crossed along the way had made sure to work around the sniffling pair of ponies. Neither were sure when the tears were going to stop, but many were shed on both sides, regret and sadness being the fuel for Asta's, while Blaze's were the product of both relief and worry.

It had been a stressful combination of emotions throughout the day, and at this point, all he was looking forward to was a hot meal by the fire with his sister by his side.

They made it back home with an hour or two of daylight left, though by then the snow had thickened considerably. A fact that they considered themselves lucky to have, even if they knew that the moment anypony inside saw their condition, it would spoil the luck they had running for them. Dreading the inevitable wouldn't help them, he knew, and standing outside would only result in one of them catching something and being sick and miserable for a week for two. So he led them up to the door and passed the threshold, welcoming the suddenly wonderful radiant heat from the fire in the center of the sitting room.

Quite a few ponies glanced over to see who entered, and the concern became immediately noticeable as several ponies tried to approach them. Blaze rebutted everypony that tried to ask them anything with a stern look and fierce shake of his head, leading Asta towards the fire. Knowing that somepony in the kitchen will likely have something hot already cooked, or at least being prepared for dinner, he sat his sister down in front of the flames, gently prying her off of his side and getting her comfortable.

Once he felt safe leaving her, he stepped back and hurried to the kitchens, bumping into Goldheart along the way. "There you are! How'd the exercise go, considering you had that thing to do with Asta?"

"Later." Blaze replied curtly, rushing passed the elder and trotting straight through the passageway, being greeted by the heavenly aroma of succulent muffins and other baked goods being prepared. His mouth watered at the savory aromas of banana bread muffins and fresh potato bread loaves of bread, but he wasn't going to be distracted for anything. He did nod politely to everypony that greeted him, but his eyes were zoned in on a batch of muffins that were still steaming and giving off the strongest scent.

Nopony was standing guard over them, but he still looked to Muffin, who was quickly showing his mastery of the kitchen, for permission to take the six muffins. The colt nodded in approval, and Blaze was quick to grab the plate with a wing, holding it on his back as he made his way back to the main room, where several ponies had gathered around the fire to see why Asta looked so devastated.

He hurried back over, offering her the plate first so she could eat something while he dealt with the onlookers. Goldheart had decided to follow along.

Once he had his sister settled in, he turned to address the next glaring issue, which happened to be the very confused looking pegasus behind him. He swiveled his head and gave everypony around a stern look, hoping that they caught the impression to leave Asta alone: the best thing for her right now was just going to be time. He motioned for Goldheart to follow and he walked back to the kitchen, parting the wall of ponies like a hot knife through butter. Once the two got out of earshot of most of the ponies, Goldheart couldn't hold in his curiosity anymore. "Just what the buck happened out there that turned her into that?!"

"I gave her my thoughts on her seemingly increasing affections for me: and she didn't take it too well." He explained with a sigh. "There was a bit where it seemed like she was actually going to let herself fall from the top of the clouds to the ground. I thought she might have ended it all right after I rejected her."

"Blunt huh?" Goldheart looked surprised for a moment, though he quickly adopted a more reserved expression. "I suppose that explains the devastated look she has."

"Yeah, I managed to snap her out of it, but I'm sure that she's going to need a day or two alone, and then things are going to be pretty damn touch-and-go until anypony might actually get through to her: it doesn't help that things are most certainly worse than we thought." Blaze responded, sitting on the ground and looking at his hooves for a second. "When Scale and I talked about it, I got the impression that Asta had just taken a keen liking to me, and Scale had definitely seemed to think it was more of an attachment issue. But when I got to talking with Asta about it. . . I just don't get it. If I understand her correctly, she's saying she's crazy in love with me."

"That's. . . a problem."

"Tell me about it. I think the biggest thing going on here is that she's telling the truth, or at least thinks she is: in her mind she's in love, but it might be that she's just going through this bullshit that happens to foals that age." He shook his head. "Whatever it is; we've got to find a way to deal with it, which means having multiple conversations with several other ponies until we can get a plan set up. I'm going to go find Scale and talk with her about it, and probably try to get a few other things done before tonight's chat with Luna."

"Right. I forgot that you'd resumed your training so soon after getting back." Goldheart said as Blaze stood up, the elder looking away, in the general direction of the fire pit and subsequently Asta. "I think I'll go and watch over her, and if she's up to it: I'll try to get her side of the story. Maybe we all just need a clearer understanding of what her position is, since this is the kind of shit that can really muddle with the information being passed around."

"Sounds good to me." Blaze sighed, leading them back into the main area.

They stopped nearly immediately after doing so, however, when Scale and Twilight were greeting some random pony at the front door. Scale looked concerned, and Twilight had a somber twist to her muzzle, though what caught Blaze's attention the most was the strange familiarity to the mare standing in front of them.

Her jet black coat sang to some of his most deeply rooted memories, while her vibrant pink and green mane called forth the tender feeling of happiness. Whoever this mare was, she was causing all sorts of mental gymnastics.

He cautiously approached the three, and as he got closer, he finally caught their attention, and the mares all turned in unison to face him. Twilight looked uncharacteristically sad, Scale was looking extremely surprised, and the third mare had a determined, albeit equally hollow look to her face, as if her own head was in conflict. He nodded a greeting to the two he knew, though he quickly turned to face this mysterious pony, eager to figure out why she was here and why she had incited such a reaction in him.

"Hello, Blaze Burn." Those depressed silver eyes locked onto his and seemed to be searching him for something, while he was doing to same. There were dried tears, and a panicked undertone to her features, and the light seemed to reflect less than a normal pony. The signs of grief for sure. "It's obvious you don't remember me, but I was friends with your mother for the majority of the time you were living with her. I'm afraid I've got some bad news to share with you."

All his senses on alert at the mention of his mother, he tensed up, staring at her with guarded curiosity and a fair bit of distrust. She reached into her saddlebags and pulled out a crumpled and stained piece of paper, one that was folded and creased, but looking fresh enough to have been written in the last week. "Your mother fell into a bit of a bad spot once you took off with Star."

She offer him the folded paper, though he hesitated to reach for it, a display of distrust that seemed to physically hit her, as she winced briefly, but continued with her explanation. "She had fallen hard with depression, doubting her self worth now that her drive had been taken; going so far as to threaten to throw herself down the nearest hole to feed the Reapers.

"Actually, it was news that a particular white pegasus had tried to take one on that had brought me here today." He finally took the paper, carefully opening it to reveal that it was a letter, written in blotchy ink and addressed to him. Before he decided to read it, he took a cursory glance at the mare, who's entire expression had fallen into open despair. "We all did our best to convince her not to, begging and pleading with her to not do it; though I must confess that it was mostly my own desire to keep a friend that motivated me to intervene with her. We tried to keep her occupied, tried to distract her with drinks and outings and gifts: doing whatever we could to get her to forget that her only family had abandoned her."

It was his turn to wince.

"It seemed to work until recently, or at least: that's what we all thought. Your mother had never really managed to overcome the sadness and regret of losing her two colts, but she had eventually grown to show us that she was putting in effort to continue living. That was; until the first major revelation of foals going missing in the night." The mare shrunk in on herself, taking a moment to wipe some tears away and sit down, reigning in her emotions so she continue to explain the situation. "It was bad Blaze: we all lost somepony, or were close to somepony else who lost a loved one, but your mother was devastated. First; she loses her sons who ran away from her, then one goes missing out of the blue? We all agreed that that was what had broken her: it sent her into the darkness.

"She became obsessed over those damned Chaos fanatics, she became bitter towards the Princesses, and she seemed to actively seek to ruin the lives of the guards. It really felt like she was hunting down everypony who had any power to stop these foal-nappings, though I never understood why." The mare frowned, her eyes losing focus and her face deepening in thought. "I'll admit that I'm not the smartest pony in Equestria, but it never made sense to me, because she blamed the guards and the Princesses, but she had ranted on and on about a conspiracy regarding those fanatics.

"Sometimes it felt like she just wanted a target to let out her grief on, but then she'd go crazy and start spouting random things about aliens and something like 'walkers,' all the while ranting about murderers and thieves." She rubbed her head with a hoof. "It's really confusing, but some of the things she said kind of made sense: it would be understandable that ponies worshiping that demon Discord would steal foals. How else are they supposed to get new members? It's not like anypony would just decide one day that things were better when they could be killed by a chaotic lunatic at any moment.

"But then she'd go on a rant about how their was a sacrifice that was needed, and how these crazy ponies were, and I quote: 'feeding his master plan to bend this world to his will.'"

"Uh. . . huh." Blaze sighed, looking down at the letter, trying to figure out if he recognized the hoof writing: which was difficult because the writing was shaky, the result of an overemotional pony trying to put their thoughts to the paper. He had only picked out a few words and had yet to actually read the letter before the mare caught his attention again.

"Then your little stunt happened. She had been just about ready to go completely crazy with these ideas when news started spreading around town that Princess Celestia's partner and Princess Luna's personal soldier project had tried his luck at hunting down a Reaper. With only rumors and idle speculation going about that you'd died, and being too paranoid to actually investigate, she'd locked herself away; once more threatening to send herself to the Reapers.

"I tried to stop her, spending a couple hours that day staying at her house in hopes of getting her out of it. I tried to stop by there yesterday, really hoping to be able to actually talk to her about this issue. But when I got there, I'd found that the house was vacant, and this letter was on the table, in an envelope and addressed to you." She looked at him with pleading eyes. "I tried to get to her as fast as I could, but I guess that she'd be secretly miserable, and I'm still not sure how I was able to miss it: how have I been so blind to it all this time? I really just needed to get here and give this to you, maybe she's been unsuccessful, and perhaps we might be able to find her before she's actually gone through with it? I don't know where any of the closer entrances are, but I'm sure you do: you went chasing that one Reaper a couple days ago! You can help!"

"I'm sorry, but I only know of one way to get to the tunnels beneath the city where the Reapers are, and I doubt my mother would have learned of that one." He said in a somber tone, closing the letter and giving it to Goldheart, then gently placing a hoof on the mare's shoulder. "If you can, I'd appreciate it if you'd lead me to her home, since she left after Star and I moved out. Maybe I can find something there that'll help."

The mare desperately nodded, spinning around and ripping the door open, gesturing for him to follow. Before he did, he turned to see a large crowd gathered around him. "I'm going to see if I can't help out: it's my mother and I will not let her just go off and do something like this. I don't want all of you to come with me."

"Scale, I could use you, and you three, " He pointed at two unicorns and one of the other pegasi standing right next to the door; figuring the extra bodies would deter any obstacles. Before she could object, he glared at Asta, motioning with a hoof towards the hallway in the back. Go to your room, Asta. I love you, but this is not something you can help me with, and I'd feel much better knowing you were safe here at home."

She opened her mouth to object, but he wasn't going to have it: "Don't worry about me: I've got Scale here as well as these three. I'll be fine."

Asta pouted, but eventually obliged, though the mare at the door was starting to prance nervously, her hooves tapping against the paved doorstep with each antsy step she took. "Look, I get there are things you guys got to do, but time is really short, and I am terrified we might be too late."

Blaze nodded, taking the lead of those he was taking with him, being led by the mare through the thickening snow and into the steadily darkening city. While he was certain that he would be able to stay up as late as possible to put this to rest, he was worried that once the sun was gone, and the night had taken hold, they'd be unable to continue the search, and all would be lost. He had to quickly shove those thoughts down, as the idea that his mother had killed herself by searching for a Reaper to eat her up absolutely horrified him. He felt a pang of sympathy for the mare, and her bewildered and terrified entrance.

They made short work of trotting through the streets, heading across town towards the more impoverished districts, which took a painful amount of time to reach. The entire group was beginning to get worried that maybe they were going to be too late to help, but they all forced optimism that this effort would pay off.

They passed by several parks and rubble piles that Blaze could remember clearly from his foal hood, though they soon headed into more unfamiliar territory. His mother had told him to avoid this part of town at all costs, as he had learned quickly that this was the primary region she had gone to 'work.' They passed by a number of brothels, and a disturbingly large quantity of shitty ramshackle apartments and it had become quite apparent that these ponies living here were in much the same living conditions that he had grown up in. It saddened him that there were still ponies suffering, but there was little he was able to do now, aside from growing his own family so they may assist these poor souls.

They turned a few more corners, diving ever deeper into the slums, until they came upon a small wooden hut that rested up against the wall, it's walls doing little to stop the wind, though the thatched roof might have kept the snow out. The mare stopped at the door, suddenly unable to continue forward.

Taking that as his cue, he trotted forward and put his hoof on the door, having the wooden slab slid inward without any effort, illuminating the insides with the soft glow of the setting sun. He winced when the light touched the insides, as the dilapidated interior was proof that his mother had struggled greatly. He set a timid hoof through the doorway, grimacing at the scattered and chaotic environment his mother had deigned to live in.

The horror only grew with each step inside, as he saw more and more of the unkempt mess; furniture stacked with piles and piles of papers and folders, trash littering the floor, dust coating everything outside of a single trodden path in the worn floorboards. The building was in shambles, clearly the result of somepony who had given up. He fully entered the house, taking care to not step on anything if he could help it, even if there was trash littered about literally everywhere: so surface had been spared from the amount of garbage piling up around what might have once been a living room. There was a bad stench permeating in the air, not unbearable, but disconcerting, and underneath the scent of half-finished meals and rotten wooden supports, he could detect the subtle iron in the air: the unmistakable scent of blood.

His senses on alert with the possibility of somepony, likely his own mother, harmed, he began to search around frantically, plowing through any obstacles as he rushed through the entrance to the next room.

Finding himself in a kitchen, he let his nose guide him through the increasingly repulsive stench of garbage and leading him towards the back door. He pressed his ear against it, straining to hear anything, but when nothing but the gentle moans of the structure greeted him, he pushed the door open. As it swung open, the scent of blood intensified, and he braced himself, knowing that the worst was going to be on the other side. Light was streaming in through a single window in the kitchen, but other than that the house was fairly dim, and the furthest corners of the bedroom behind the kitchen remained shrouded in shadows.

He was still able to see well enough inside the room that he was half-filled with relief to see that the room was empty, though his heart was now racing at where the blood scents were coming from. He walked into the room, looking around to try to find anything that might be useful, though he wondered if there would even be anything in there that could help him. The bedroom was perhaps the cleanest room in the entire building, sporting relatively clean floors, with only a couple folders of papers on a nightstand next to a crumpled old bed.

He walked over to the folders and opened them up, curious to see what was inside them. Skimming through them quickly, he discovered that they were several reports from the missing foals, which caught his curiosity. That mare had mentioned that his mother had been looking into it, but this here was implying that the foals had been taken by the cultists. . .

He jumped at the sound of hoofsteps, whipping around to see Scale leading the others through the kitchen and into the back room. He exhaled slowly, berating himself for forgetting that he wasn't the only pony in the building. Scale walked up to him to sniff at the folder. "What's this?"

"Just some report that might have some incriminating evidence towards those bucking fanatics Al's been leading. You would think that if she had really been invested in figuring this out, that she would have actually saw it through, and not go and kill herself before it got anywhere." He sighed, returning his attention to the papers, not finding anything that particularly stood out; just some reported sightings of potential fanatics being seen around the homes of missing foals around the time of the disappearances. "Why don't you sift through this, perhaps we can find something that'll help us out. I want to take another look around and see if I can't find anything that can help us locate where she went."

"I'll help you: maybe I can speed things along." His mother's friend replied, perking up at being able to be of assistance. He nodded, knowing that every little piece of help would put them that much closer to finding his mother. He let the other ponies sort themselves out, hoping they would manage while he went back to the front, wondering if that massive pile of notes might help.

He led the mare through the kitchen, where she stopped to search around the tables, while he continued along to the stack of folders he'd seen from the start. As he got to the first, he thought of what he'd seen immediately upon stumbling through the back door, careful to open the folder. "Did you see any signs of a struggle back there?"

"No, why?" The mare asked from the kitchen, and the sound of metal items clanging against the counters also came out from the passageway. He started reading the contents of the folder, which turned out to be another report, this one detailing the interrogation of an accused foal-napper. The stallion in question had proclaimed to be a 'prophet of the christened' and had only spouted nonsense about the coming of the 'wizened, spurned great one.' He'd heard similar ramblings from other fanatics, or at least from ponies who had heard from them.

"I just smelled blood when we got here, but there wasn't any in the kitchen, as far as I could tell, and the bedroom was also clean of any. I was just curious where the smell would have come from if there wasn't anypony here and there wasn't any recent source of the stuff." He called back, flipping through the report without any more success. Putting that one to the side, he picked up the next, which was a personal account of what his mother had noticed, in the form of a journal regarding her investigations. Nothing particularly special in that one, aside from an exuberant amount of speculation and wild accusation that he had known held no evidence to back the claims. He flipped through the pages until he came across a theory that he smirked at; with his mother saying she might be onto something that would point Luna as the culprit. He'd been down that road, but Asta had evidence stating otherwise. "Finding anything in there?"

"Nothing yet." He shrugged to himself, tossing the journal aside and grabbing the final folder on the stool in front of him. To his surprise, this one had more information about the chaos fanatics, including some interesting tidbits about their meetings. It seemed that his mother had taken to collecting information wherever she could, and had eavesdropped on a couple of unconfirmed members' meetings. She'd scribbled down notes and quotes, giving the names of a couple notable members, though he didn't recognize any of them. One name stood out, Eanulf, Minister of Voices, as it was especially strange, since ponies didn't have any titles or positions called 'minister' and this name really sounded. . . wrong.

Leafing through the rest of the notes revealed nothing of use, other than various meetings that had long since passed, though he doubted he would have noticed anything, as that name had attached itself to his mind. Eanulf, Minister of Voices. There was something about that name that made his stomach churn, and repeating it in his head was doing nothing to ease his discomfort and confusion. "Hey, Blaze? You might want to come take a look at this."

Glad to have a distraction, he turned around and entered the kitchen, finding his mother's friend standing next to the kitchen, staring at an object in it with abject horror. His worry grew significantly and he cautiously trotted over, where he glanced into the sink.

Having been covered by various dirty dishes earlier, the mare had removed the items in her search for evidence, revealing a large, bloody knife, one that had been sitting around long enough that the crimson fluids had dried up. He felt like somepony had punched him in the guy, and it felt like his body was threatening to vomit on the spot, forcing him to back away with a steady hoof holding his midsection. At that moment, Scale returned to the kitchen, looking worried and confused as she entered, glancing between the two of them before walking up to the sink.

The Sage stared at the bloody knife for a couple of seconds before finally backing up to stand next to Blaze, her face having gone pale as a ghost. "I. . . I had found something that you will want to see, Blaze."

He was unresponsive to her remark, and she had to weakly shake him to get his attention, though he looked at her with distant eyes. "Blaze, we found a note that had scribbled on it a confession that she was afraid that her investigation to the fanatics had caught their attention. She was worried that whatever it was that they had planned, they could possibly try to stop her from intervening or stopping their plans, and had even written the name of a pony who she was certain needed to be investigated further: Mist Artificer."

"I. . . I'm just going to. . ." He shook his head, trying to understand what was collapsing around him, while it seemed that his mother's friend was doing the same. The two ponies dropped onto their hindquarters in sync, staring wide-eyed at the ground at the implications of a bloody knife, a horrific confession, and this terrifying piece of information. "Do you think they might have had anything to do with this?"

"It's possible." Scale's reply came with some hesitation.

"I think we'd better get home: there's probably not much of a chance of finding mom after this, if there ever was one to begin with." He whispered, his head reeling and his heart feeling like it had finally shattered. Sure he'd never been particularly close with his mother after he'd taken Star and ran, but he always appreciated the effort that she had put into keeping them all alive. He was grateful for it, and he couldn't hole ill will against her for struggling to raise two colts when a pony living by themselves was bound to struggle to survive. "I'm going to need some time to process this."

"I have to agree: there's not a lot we can do, if those bucking fanatics are behind this." The friend said, standing and looking strangely resolved. "I'm going to stay here a bit and try to salvage anything she had regarding this little investigation of hers, and then I'm going to hunt those buckers down myself!"

While he liked her enthusiasm, there wasn't a lot of room in his head right then for optimism, and all he felt like he had the energy to do was go home and collapse into bed. He did his best not to cry because he was afraid that showing weakness or uncertainty like that would cripple his family's progress. He wasn't so sure he'd stop the tears from this once he was alone, though, and every beat his heart made felt like it was taking more and more of his strength with it.

He nodded to the others and rose to his hooves, feeling a twinge of pain at the loss of his mother, feeling a numbing sensation that she had fallen so far, and feeling a cold, hard pit of rage at the fact that these bucking fanatics seemed to be behind so many issues. He led his little party of ponies out of the shack, feeling the bitter cold snow falling into his mane and nearly immediately piling on his back. He stopped to let the others catch up, and sort of lazily glances around the street, going off the faint feeling left in his guy. As his eyes drifted across the barren streets, they focused on a shadowy figure in the alley across from him.

A pony stared back, glaring with contempt at him, which came as a surprise, since this distance made distinguishing any particular expression difficult, and yet this pony here was clearly pissed at his presence. He cocked his head to the side, wondering just what would make this pony be so hateful, until something in his head began to work, and he opened his mouth to call out to them.

Before he could utter a word, the pony whipped around and dashed into the darkness of the alley, leaving a twisted pit of fear in Blaze's stomach where his numbed feeling was. Wondering just what the buck was going on, he gave chase, bolting across the street and diving into the alley after the pony, much to his friend's anguish. He knew that he shouldn't leave them behind, but instincts were telling him that this angry pony that he was now chasing was probably going to be helpful in figuring out what had happened to his mother. Luckily, this segment of alley was pretty straight, with no outlets for the pony to turn around a corner.

However, this pony was faster than he had expected, and they made it to the other side in very little time. The pony then made a sharp turn and disappeared around the corner, but not before Blaze was able to get a good look at the icy blue unicorn with a pink and white mane, her face distorted by rage.

He may have been slow to catch up, but the mare he was chasing was not fast enough to get to cover before he burst out into the street. He caught sight of her diving behind another corner, and he put forth another burst of speed and dashed across the street, passing into the darkened alleyway faster than he thought he would have. The mare was just in front of him, barely passed the first building, reaching an intersection and it seemed that she was going to make another sharp turn, her horn glowing pink as she prepared to cast a spell.

Fearing that this would be the last chance to see the unicorn before she teleported away for good, he shoved his wings passed his limits and tried to catch her. He rocketed forward, his forehooves stretched out as he tried to grab her before she got away, regret blossoming in his stomach that he'd forgotten his hidden blade.

Before he could cover half the remaining distance, his kill was taken from him in the form of a billowy white figure dropping from the rooftop onto the unicorn, slamming her to the ground with a sickening crunch. He landed just before the scene, watching in equal parts rage and surprise, cautious as to what had landed atop the mare: with the overhead light of the setting sun casting the alley in mostly shadows, he had a hard time of making anything more than basic shapes and colors. It wasn't until the familiar sound of a metal blade being pulled from a pony's body did he recognize what had happened.

The billowy shape revealed itself to be a hooded pony, donning the strange robes of the Assassin Order, and a stone gray hoof pulled the hood down, revealing none other than Slate, himself. Before he could utter anything, Rainbow Crescent dropped to the ground, her own hood already pulled down, and a disdainful scowl placed on her muzzle.

Slate reached down and pulled this unicorn from the ground, blood oozing from her sides while her hooves grasped at the bloody wound with an air of futility. He pulled her into a sitting position, resting her against the cobblestone wall of the nearest building, with an amount of respect and gentleness that Blaze found both distasteful and strange. The gray stallion sat down in front of her, placing his back to the pegasi behind him, offering a somewhat comforting hoof on the mare's shoulder. "Mist Artificer, you've committed crimes against the sanctity of this proud and peaceful nation; it is high time that you be brought to justice. I only wish this didn't have to end with your life: that we might have resolved this with dignity. Tell me what your masters were plotting, so that you may still serve the light, even on your dying breath."

"Suck a dick, Slate! You filly bucking assassin!" Mist spat, slapping his hoof away as soon as it came into contact with her, as well as trying to kick him in the groin, only for his idle forehoof to catch her leg before it got anywhere. "Al Capony has a great vision for us all, whether bastards like you stick around long enough to aid or not, and I will not betray the cause! We have ponies all over the city ready to do his bidding!"

"Allow me." Blaze said softly, stepping around the two assassins who had taken to interrogating the dying mare. As he took his place in front of her, she seemed to recoil, fearful of his presence, disheartening him while simultaneously steeling his resolve. "Mist, you are going to die; that is a fatal wound. I'm not here to gloat; I just want answers as to why my mother mentioned you specifically in her notebooks, and hopefully to learn why it is she killed herself."

"You're not wrong." Mist chuckled, though there was no joy in her voice, only mirth, the acceptance of one's fate while they try to be as arrogant as possible. "I am going to die; there is nothing Al can do to help me now. . . or punish me."

Her eyes turned vicious, a fire inside them so full of loathing that he had to inch back. "I'll humor you this last time, insolent bastard. Al Capony holds much power in Equestria, more than anypony else could ever hope to have: and he plans on using this power to bring about our true lord, through the use of many smaller creatures, such as ourselves. That bitch whorse you call a mother was catching on to our plans, and had learned far too much from traitorous bitches. Traitors that will experience the true wrath of our lord. She didn't die by her own hood, however, oh no: when it became clear to us that she had learned my identity, Al Capony thought of an ingenious, and rather ironic twist to. . . remove her from the picture. We spent weeks planning how to do it perfectly, and finally lured her into a trap: one where she thought to capture me, but through our greater minds, found herself the victim.

"Reapers tend to get hungry in the winter, wouldn't you say?" Her maniacal laughing was cut short by Blaze's hoof violently crushing her trachea, leaving only the sickening gurgles of a mare choking on her own blood. He scowled intensely as he grabbed her head by the mane and began to repeatedly punch her face, the blood splattering over him from her shattered snout before Both Slate and Rainbow managed to pulled him away.

By the time Scale and her group had caught up to him, Mist lay dead on the floor while the two assassins did their best to hold him back from completely ruining her remains. "What's going. . . on. . ."

Scale stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the lifeless body lying against the building, along with the assassins who had finally let Blaze go, as his temper was cooling. Her face drained at the barely perceptible sight of blood dripping from his hoof before he settled back onto all fours. He turned to her, the rage finally fading from his features, and steadily being replaced by resignation at what he had just done. There was little remorse in his tone, however, as he informed the others of what he'd learned.

"That. . . that still doesn't justify killing somepony!" One of the pegasi behind Scale gaped, while another puked in the gutter nearby.

"I. . . I'm sorry." Blaze said, glancing back at the corpse for a second before finally feeling unsettled at what he had done, and turning his gaze once more onto those of his family. "I know that I shouldn't have, but Slate here dealt the killing blow, and I just finished her off in an unacceptable way: I just couldn't control myself."

"I understand why you did it, Blaze." Scale sighed, clearly doing her best to keep her stomach down. "But that doesn't mean that I condone such actions. You two: I recognize you from somewhere. . . Assassins, right?"

Rainbow and Slate both nodded, an action that the Sage returned, before addressing Blaze once more: "I think we should head back home before anything else happens, and then we're going to have to have a long conversation about everything that you learned from her. I must admit that it is truly horrendous for somepony to kill another, but this one seems to be justified in at least one way: these fanatics are up to something bad. Let's go home."

"Before you do, " Rainbow interrupted, reaching forward and grabbing Blaze by the hoof. "Blaze, tomorrow, I want to meet you in the central market, east side next to the key smith stall in front of the Roaring Hydra Inn. There are a few things that we should discuss to get you ready to meet with our Order."

"Could you hold back on that?" He responded, pulling back and sagging his wings a little, the weight of this recent revelation finally hitting him, now that his rage had burned itself clear. "Look, as eager as I am to meet with you guys, I'm going to need a day or two for this to settle. I know that Al will only be more dangerous if we wait too long, but I don't think I'll be in any state to help for some time: mother and I may have gone our separate ways a long time ago, but I'll always love her for what she did for us. I can't just let this loss go un-grieved: the last time I tried that I messed up my head pretty bad, and I know that nopony back home would forgive me if I did that to myself again. Give me a few days, then I suppose we can talk."

"I understand where you are coming from, but this recent revelation brings more worries than you know." The mare insisted. "I'll give you two days, tomorrow is yours to spend as you please, but after that: I need to get you straight with the Order. We are running on borrowed time that I doubt we'll be able to get back after much longer. Two days from now, noon. You better be there, or we are coming to you."

"Fine, two days it is." He submitted, turning again to face Scale, who looked like she was more than ready to leave, shifting uneasily on her hooves. He wouldn't blame her: he was starting to get antsy standing around in a dark alley, especially after learning what he had from the fanatic unicorn. "Let's go."

Making a short trip out of it; he led them all back, minus his mother's friend, who had run back to her home, probably going to drown her sorrows in a bottle of liquor: he'd planned for the same thing after his chat with Scale. The streets had thinned considerably, the sun had set, and the snow was remaining steady: but both Blaze and Scale were glad to get home in a timely manner.

Once everypony had settled inside the safety of the warehouse, Blaze and Scale took a seat in the privacy of one of the darker corners of the unofficial dining area. Tables had little popularity at this time, as the warmth of the fire called to most of the ponies: though clearly not all. The two had barely sat down before a familiar brown and green mare quickly made it her personal quest to seek them out. Asta trotted towards them with a worried look in her eye: she'd heard from the others that something bad happened. Neither had a chance to speak before she made herself comfortable at his side, snuggling up under his wing in both their preferred positions.

He wasn't going to complain: not about knowing his beloved sister was safe under his chilled wing, equally warming his wing and his heart that she wouldn't get caught up in this. "I heard that something bad happened."

"Yeah. . . it turns out mother wasn't completely suicidal." He said solemnly, regretful that he had to explain this to her. "It was all an elaborate ruse by those bucking fanatics to hide the fact that they had to kill her: she had been onto this terrible thing that they have planned. We went to her place, and as bad as that trip was, it only got worse when her very murderer had shown up, probably to gloat and bask in her wickedness.

"We hunted her down, but it was the Assassins that got the kill; though not before we got some information out of her. . ." He really wished that he didn't have to explain this to her, but he knew that Scale would tell her for his sake if he didn't.

"Speaking of which. . ." Scale motioned with her hoof for him to finally go into detail about what had occurred, as his abbreviated version was not what she needed to hear.

"Right." He nodded, clutching Asta tightly as he tried to fight against the repulsion at reliving this rather upsetting event. "Well, I was about to lose her: she was charging her horn to get ready to teleport, if I had to bet, and I wasn't going to lose this chase. I just knew that she had something to do with mother's disappearance: that smug look she had. . . I was about to catch her when Slate, the assassin, dropped from the rooftops and got her.

"I'm kind of grateful that he did; it meant that I could catch up to her. The wound he dealt was fatal, but it didn't kill her right then and there, so we managed to press her for answers; though she just ranted when he asked her anything. I tried to pull some peace bullshit to appeal to her empathetic side. . . which probably made things worse. She ranted that because she was dead, Al wouldn't be able to punish her-"

"Really? That was what she was worried about: somepony punishing her on the brink of death?" Asta was incredulous, but Blaze just nodded at her.

"Yeah: but that's probably the best thing so far. You see, she was proud to be a fanatic, ranting that lowly creatures like her were what Al was using to bring what she called, and I quote: 'their true lord,' like he was going to perform pony sacrifices to bring something terrible through. I always knew that Discord was bad, but pony sacrifices? That is far worse than I would have imagined!"

"What else?" Scale pressed.

"Well, she mentioned that mother had learned about some of their activities through other so called 'bitches,' which I assume are fellow ponies that had garnered information in one way or another, probably fanatics that defected once they realized these buckers were killing ponies. Mist Artificer, Asta that's the mare's name, said that everypony would either conform or be killed off by this true lord of theirs, which must be Discord. I just. . . I don't know why anypony would want to die like that. . ."

"It is beyond our sane minds to comprehend the suicidal tendencies of such ponies as them, Blaze Burn." Scale shook her head in disgust, gesturing for him to continue.

"Well, this was just before you got there, but after she was done ranting about these supposed 'traitors' she mentioned that her and Al had put together a plan, because mother was starting to catch onto their plan, to stop her." Blaze said, shuddering at the implication of just how many eyes they had watching everypony around. He was aware that Al had resources to back him. . . with the Creed. "They stopped her by springing their self-proclaimed ironic trap, killing her and making it sound like she had committed suicide. If I'm correct in my assumptions, it was through Al's connections with the Thieves' Creed that he would have found out: they have eyes and ears everywhere. Either way; they found out how close she was to discovering this big plan of theirs to bring Discord back, or whoever they consider their true lord. I've got to say, if Rainbow and the other Assassins help me with this, it might put some of us in danger, which is kind of worrying."

"Don't stress on that, yet, Blaze." Scale sighed, leaning back in her chair as she took in the full accounting of what happened, which was much more detailed than his previous iteration. She rubbed her forehead, trying to process just how things were escalating beyond anything that anypony had assumed. "We're still going to have to talk with the Princesses before taking the next step, that and you need rest: you've just lost somepony that was a big part of your life, and we all know how bad that can be."

"Yeah. . ." Asta nuzzled up against his side, pressing her face into his blood-splattered chest fur, until she realized what the substance on him was. Upon coming to that realization, she recoiled back, snarling at the specks on his chest, and getting a better look at his face, where she spotted more specks. "Blaze, that's blood on you. Are you hurt?! Where are you bleeding?! Oh, I swear to all that is good in this world, when I find the ponies that did this to you-"

Blaze silenced her quickly by shoving a hoof in her mouth, a tired smirk popping up on his muzzle. "It's not mine, Asta. I suppose I should tell you that when Mist Artificer mentioned how she killed my mother, I kind of lost it: it wasn't Slate's fatal wound that killed her. It was my hoof that did it."

He reach forward so she could see his blood-coated forehoof, which instantly dropped her jaw in shock. He knew she would react poorly to it, so he did his best to not feel too bad that he made her night even worse, until a strange, almost intrigued look crossed the mare's face. She leaned around him and sniffed at the crimson limb, which gave him pause for concern more than anything. "What was it like? To kill a pony?"

Concern was definitely the strongest emotion he had decided to recognize right then, because her list of 'issues' hadn't really included anything violent. At least not in this kind of way. "Horrible. I hate that it's a necessity, and taking a life isn't something I ever want to do again once we deal with Al; and if I'm not the one who has to do it, then it'll be that much easier to accept."

"Huh. . ." Her mildly interested look was extremely frightening for him, and he couldn't hide the shudder that ran through him as he saw the gears turning in her head. Shaking it off as best he could, he rose from his seat, leaving Asta whimpering and trotted around the table.

"If there isn't anything else you need to know, I'm just going to go take a bath, and probably get settled in for a long night. I doubt I'm going to get much sleep anytime soon, and I know that Luna does always appreciate it when I go above and beyond her expectations: so I'll be in my room going over some sword-fighting stances." He declared as he turned away, not giving either of them the chance to object, and making a beeline for the baths. He tried to pretend that Asta wasn't following him, but by the time he had gotten to the bathroom door, and she was still trying her best to discreetly tail him, he'd had enough. He stopped at the door and turned around, waiting for her to accept defeat and approach him, which she did after waiting around a corner, peering at him for a few seconds.

The moment she realized he was aware of her presence, she shyly smiled and trotted up to him, her head hung low and her ears pressed to her skull. "Y-Yeah?"

"Why are you following me? I'm not in any danger and I just want to take a hot bath then head to my room." He stated matter-of-factly, staring at her with a deadpan expression.

"Oh. . . I was just. . ." She shuffled in place for a moment, refusing to make eye contact and keeping her gaze glued to the ground. "I just. . . well, you see. . . I wanted to. . . ah buck it: I wanted to help you bathe!"

"Asta-" His face started turning into a scowl at her implications before she sprung up and started waving her hooves in the air.

"Not like that! Not this time!" She added hastily, catching onto his thoughts fast enough that he knew that they had flown in her head moments earlier, and if this denial was genuine, then it seemed she might have realized how her phrasing might have sounded. Which was exactly what was going through her mind then. "I. . . look, Blaze: I know that it's hard to lose ponies you care about. While I may have been young when my family gave up, I do know how it feels; and I just wanted to show you that we are all still going to be here to support you, no matter how you choose to go about this. I-I wanted to help you relax, just show you that I am able to be a real pony, and not somepony that just cares about sex.

"Unlike Twilight. . ." She whispered, lightly stomping on the ground while she did her best to reign in her unleashed emotions. She looked up and met his stern gaze with an innocent smile. "I want to make sure you recover from this: that way we can put all this darkness behind us and move on to the better parts of our life."

Her confession sounded genuine enough for him, and his expression loosened up; so much so that he sighed and let his body sag a bit from the exhaustion he was feeling. Today had been a maelstrom of emotions and other shit: he wasn't going to deny letting somepony scrub at his back for a little bit. Maybe massage his wings. . . gently of course, they could be sensitive sometimes.

He didn't give her a response, figuring that she'd probably take any obvious acceptance as permission to push her luck, and spun around, walking into the bathroom. The lack of other ponies made him slightly uneasy with how things could turn out, but he was beyond really caring at this point; losing his mother in such a way had finally started to rot away his interest. He numbly led Asta to the back of the room, where several smoldering fires were slow-heating pots of water, for anypony that wanted a hot bath.

He tried his best to avoid them, as he much preferred a nice cold bath to quickly hop in and out of, but sometimes it was nice to relax. These were also a definite upgrade from the previous method of hot water attainment: having a unicorn straight up heat the tubs of water. This way it only took a couple of simple spells to contain the fires, and viola: hot water at the ready!

He indicated for his sister to follow, figuring that she was aware of his preference for colder baths, and totted over to the steaming pots. He bit down on the towel-wrapped handle and began moving pots over to the nearest tub, which filled rather quickly with the two of them working: and a relaxing steam permeated the air around them, easing him even more as he dropped his cloak on the tiled floor right next to the baths.

He felt a little self-conscious about climbing into the tub with Asta watching, knowing that it was only a matter of time before things returned to the unfortunate norm of her trying to claim him, but he shrugged it off in favor of the hot water's effects. As he lay down, allowing the hot water to soak up to his neck, he rested his chin on the rim of the tub, enjoying the pleasing sensations of steam drifting around him, absorbing into his fur and releasing the tension in his muscles. He let his eyes drift shut as he carefully listened to Asta approach.

While he was feeling fine with this, he knew he had to be ready to act in case she tried to do any funny business, and he allowed his body to tense up a bit. Asta picked up on his distrust, stopping at the edge with a pained expression, silently waiting for his permission to help.

He remained in blissful silence for a minute before his curiosity at what his sister was doing got the better of him: he cracked open his eyes and turned to look at her. His regret was almost immediate as he saw the sadness and silent agony in her eyes, knowing full well that she had seen his reaction to her approach. Fueled by this regret, he forced his body to relax, taking a deep breath and letting his wings unfurl naturally in the tub. He nodded for her to continue with whatever she had planned.

Fortunately, the tub wasn't big enough for the two of them to sit comfortably, as he was taking up the majority of it, so Asta resigned herself to sidling against the side of the tub. He closed his eyes and returned his head to its previous position, remaining attentive to what she was doing: which seemed to him to be her adjusting in place. Then a tentative hoof reaching into the waters above him and delicately began to massage his back.

He let out an involuntary moan of relief as her other hoof joined in, with her obviously taking his relaxed body as permission to continue. She worked her hooves in circles, applying pressure in his sorest spots, taking cues from the groans and sighs he let out, and he was loving every second of it. He remembered that everypony had been telling him to do some stretches, and he guiltily recalled forgetting to do them after his flight with Asta, as caught up as he had been with this incident with his mother and those damned fanatics. Still, having Asta here to help him work out the kinks in his back would be a passable replacement.

Once she had worked down from the small of his back to the start of his tail, she suddenly stopped, leaving him whimpering for a moment, his body begging for more. He opened an eye to see what she was doing, as the sound of water droplets caught his attention: only to see her reaching a hoof over the side of the tub to try to squeeze herself in. "Asta-"

"I can't get to your shoulders from out here, and you were enjoying this so much. . . I just wanted to hear those cute sounds you were making, to know that I am doing something that you actually like." He knew her admission was innocent, but with everything she'd already tried, he couldn't shake the impression that she was going to try something else. He couldn't argue, though, because his body told him to scoot forward so she had a bit more room, even if it left his neck free and chest half-submerged.

Asta happily crawled into the tub, her hooves almost immediately going to work on his tense shoulders, working them loose in a matter of seconds. He leaned forward unconsciously, closing his eyes again as relief spread through his back, and he felt his weight start to shift around. His muscles begging for the attention, he raised his wings out of the water, just enough for her to start working on, until her hooves grasped at the muscles at the base of his wings. He felt his wings go limp, pure, unadulterated pleasure running down the length of his spine and sending him shivering in delight.

His mind was reeling with euphoria, and he let his head slip down to his chest, even if he heard Asta giggling at his response, though he wasn't about to stop her.

She paused for a moment to readjust herself, for her hind legs were slipping forward against the base of the tub, and in that brief respite she heard him actually growl at her. It surprised the both of them, but he started giggling like mad as he tried his best to apologize to her, even as she started back up again. "No need to apologize, Blazy: I'm happy to do this for you, and those noises you make are just so damn cute!"

She finished with all of his back, she she moved onto his wings with utmost care, and for a moment, with her hooves being as gentle as if she were holding a baby bird, she knew she'd put him to sleep. As if the opportunity to please her brother weren't enough to put a massive grin on her face already, she relished that she had managed to knock him out with the attention she was feeding his wings. He only awoke once she had stopped applying pressure to the ends of his musculature, and she had leaned in to breathe on his ear. "Oh, Blazy: time to wake up. We're only halfway done."

His eyes shot open for a second, until his mind caught up and he looked back at her, carefully spinning in place so that the two were facing each other. He raised his eyebrows at her curiously, wondering what else she had planned, until she leaned in and placed both her forehooves against his chest. He glanced down at them, unsure if he was actually okay with this. "Uh, Asta? You sure you want to go through with this?"

"Of course, Blazy." She replied cheerily, smiling at him with a genuinely innocent smile as she start to massage his chest. "Anything for my favorite brother in the whole wide world!"

His frown stuck through for a while, until Asta stayed true and kept her hooves strictly above the water. After a lengthy massage that left him feeling more than refreshed, he sank down into the tub, sliding as far under as he could, until Asta plopped herself on top of him, snuggling against his barrel, pulling them both down until it was just their heads and necks resting above the waterline.

Humming softly, he smiled as Asta shut her eyes and quietly rest there, and though the back of his mind was screaming at the wrongness of this, he was more than happy to keep her there. There was enough strife in the world, and he was afraid of loosing anypony else; a fear that manifested in him gladly cuddling his sister, wrapping his sopping hooves around her, hugging her tightly as they soaked. This may not have been something he would normally approve of, but his mind had a majority of agreement that he needed somepony to comfort him, in any way possible.

If Asta wanted to cuddle in a steaming hot bath, then his need to keep his family close would not deny her that desire.

About an hour later, Blaze felt himself snap back to consciousness, cracking his eyes open to an equally blissful and terrifying sight; an adorable snuggle-able Asta wrapped around his midsection. It was not lost on him that the two were now napping in a tub, one in which the water was getting a bit too cold to be napping in. He debated whether or not to move, as he was sure Asta was comfortable, but he also wanted out of the bath.

After mulling it over for a few seconds, he decided to just get out, and he shifted in place, trying to ease the mare awake. She murmured into his chest, but otherwise refused to do anything else, so he did the only thing he could think of to get her up: he used his wing to cause a wave of lukewarm water to splash over her.

The moment the water hit her face, a switch was flipped, and the mare shot out of the tub, screaming in shock and now fully aware of her surroundings, heart pounding and all.

The sight of Asta leaping completely free from the tub was more than enough for him, and he startled laughing like mad, holding his forehooves tight to his stomach and rolling onto his sides. As she landed, she scowled at him and hopped over to the side of the tub, huffing and puffing while she tried to get her dripping mane out of her face. "That was not funny, Blaze Burn."

She reached a hoof into the water and splashed some up at his face, which garnered her no reaction, as he was too busy trying to contain his fit. The fact that her feeble retaliation got her nowhere only served to worsen her stung pride, and she thought quick to come up with some vengeance. As he pulled himself together, he rolled back onto his back, just in time to see a wicked grin on her face, then she leaped into the tub, making him scream in good-humored fear. The resulting splash completely soaked him, as well as the area around their tub, completely drenching a large portion of the room.

She let him pull himself out from under her, and once he'd pulled his mane out from over his eyes, the two shared a brief laugh at these kinds of antics. Eventually, the mood did sour, as she watched his mind slowly turn away from the temporary distractions, her plan at keeping him in the moment long enough to work out a way to stop the depression failing in her face.

She nuzzled up against his chest, hoping to pull his attention out from any ruminations in his head, but his gaze was stuck somewhere else. Not sure what to do, she lay there, pressing her chin into his fur and staring into his distant blue eyes, hoping that something would free him. "Oh, Blaze Burn. You've been through so much, and yet it seems that you never catch a break. . . all I wanted was for us to be happy."

She watched him for what felt like an eternity, and though the building had to be completely lit by candlelight, she knew deep down that mere minutes were passing. Still, she stayed true and never bother to leave his side, though she used her wing to stealthily reach around him and pull the drain plug out, allowing the water to flush from the tub.

If she was going to sit there with her brother for as long as need be, she wanted to get a head start drying off. Fur takes a crazy amount of effort to dry out.

She felt the chilled air around her as the water finally drained out of the tub, though she didn't mind; there were more important things that required her attention. After what might have been half and hour, perhaps forty-five minutes, Blaze finally shifted, his expression taking a prolonged, painful to watch transition from sorrow to bitterness. If her assumptions were right, then he would blame himself for this, which got her heart to both pang with sympathy and beat faster with anxiety. She couldn't have him blaming himself for what happened to his mom. "Blazy, you know what happened wasn't your fault: those Chaos Fanatics are ruining life for everypony in the city."

"Yeah. . . yeah I know." He sighed, pushing her away and stepping out of the tub, his head hung low and his voice distant. "It just sucks that we even have to deal with crazy bucking ponies like them at all, and this whole thing with them killing mom. . ."

He let the sentence die as he slowly walked over to the towels, grabbing a few and throwing them on his back, where Asta still sat in the tub. He tossed her a couple before starting the arduous process of drying his unkempt mane; distracting himself briefly by regarding the state it was in, and how badly he needed to manage it. Once he'd pulled his mane out of his face with the towel acting as a bun around it, he started to dry the rest of himself off, saving the driest towel for his tail.

"I just want this all to be over: the fewer creatures threatening you all the better I'll feel about spending time to just relax with you guys." He explained, breaking the silence that had formed as the pair of them toweled themselves down. "I'm ready for all this violence to stop."

"You hinted that you were the one who killed this murder fanatic right? The one who killed your mom?" Asta asked, hopping around a deeper part of the puddle she had made when splashing into the tub earlier. As the question left her lips, she winced at how bad it had sounded, as did Blaze.

"What are you getting at?"

"Well, it just seems to me that while you may not particularly enjoy dealing death, I've heard that the instances where you have to, you were quite good at it. I've talked with both Luna and Celestia on occasion, as brief as those occasions are, and they've mentioned that your heritage as a Gold Blood has really shone through." She said, placing a comforting hoof on his shoulder to try to ease his racing thoughts. "What I'm getting at is: while you don't like it, killing is something you have a talent for. Maybe it is your destiny to be our shield by being our spear: to protect us by slaying those who would seek us harm, and not just be the pacifist stallion that can't properly care for those he loves because of some discomfort."

"Asta. . ." He had to pause and process what she had said, his temper flaring at the implication that he was a sissy who would back down from conflicts if these ponies were in danger. "I thought it was already accepted that I will do anything to keep you all safe? That's the whole reason why I accepted to train with Luna: so I could better use either intimidation or actual combat skills to do just that."

"I know, I know. What I guess I was trying to hint at was that I think this Assassin Order I've heard so much about may be right for you: you both are trying to hunt down these fanatics that are ruining our great city. You both are willing to do whatever it takes to maintain the safety of common ponies like myself. And you both already have the right weapons." She nodded towards his room, getting him to think about both the hidden blade and his sword, tools of violence he hated having. As much as he loathed the idea of equating himself with the assassins, he knew where she was coming from, and he hated how much the idea resonated with him.

If killing was a necessity, he might as well get good at it, right?

"Asta. . . it's something that I've already considered, but I do appreciate that you have agreed to have me join their ranks." He sighed, leading her through the halls until they reached his bedroom door. "And I just wanted to thank you for being there for me; it seems like this family here is the only left in a world that is falling apart. I'm going to do some stretches and then practice my form with the sword: else Luna will have my skin for neglecting it. Good night, sister."

"Night, Blazy!" She perked up, and his concern over the joyous anticipation in her eyes rose, but she was gone before he could ask her about it. He shrugged to himself, guessing that she was just excited that he was actually considering properly integrating with the Order, and turned around to glance around his room. He trotted through the darkness over to the dresser, which had a matchbox in one of the drawers, and after a moment, he had lit the several candles around his room.

He was kind of grateful that he didn't have very many material things; aside from the dresser, bed and desk, the room was bare. This left him with a lot of room to work with, and meant fewer things were likely to get broken should he start swinging his sword. Speaking of swords. . . he dropped the two towels on his bed, then he trotted over to his sword: the towels were only going to distract him, and he knew he'd dry off enough over the next hour or so.

Unsheathing the larger blade from it's scabbard, he sighed from the familiarity the sword had in his hoof; that he had to actually practice with this felt degrading for him. He had always prized himself in the Creed at being able to avoid confrontations by talking his way out of them. That he would have to resort to murder just felt like he'd given up any of the refined talent that those thieves honed in on, ironically enough. He did miss being able to sneak around, actually; it was always a great feeling to know he was able to get around ponies without them detected him.

He sighed to himself, repressing the somewhat pleasant memories of his days of relative innocence. Dropping the bastard sword on his bed, he stepped back to the largest clearing in the room and began to stretch in earnest as he said he would.

With his limbs all stretched and ready for an intense session of practice, honing in on the more sophisticated forms of swordplay, he trotted in place, hoping to get his heart rate going a bit faster. He shook his head, trying to clear the nagging thoughts hanging just on the edge of his conscious thought, until the sound of his door opening scattered all his thoughts. He turned around, curious at who would bother coming in right then, until the sight of Asta happily entering answered the question. He gave her a flat look as she peeked around the door at him, flashing her brilliant smile and pushing the door open more than enough for her to slip in.

His deadpanned expression fell flat on his face as she stepped through the opening, revealing a large saber draped across her back. As she stepped fully through the doorway, she smirked at his stunned expression, chuckling while she shut the door behind her. "Princess Luna gave it to me so that I could get some practice sharpening a blade, saying that it would be good for me to know how to do it in case you forgot."

He finally pulled his head together and shook his head at her, knowing there was nothing he could really do about it now. "If you were just going to sharpen the blade, then you'd stay in your room and do it: which means your here because you want to learn to use it, right?"

"You know me so well." She smiled trotting in front of him and drawing the sword from its scabbard, twisting the blade in her grip to offer the handle to him. He carefully relieved her of the blade, letting the candlelight reflect softly off the curved blade and admiring the way the light glinted. The blade was high quality, as he discovered most true Equestrian steel to be, but he appreciated that this sword in particular looked to be crafted with the intentions of being offered to royalty. Perhaps Luna had offered his sister one of her personal swords, which he found plausible, as she had mentioned that she often preferred blunt weapons over the blade.

He thought the way the blade curved to be intriguing, the exotic nature of the weapon being appealing to him. The silvery steel blade had a medium curve to it, unlike some of the more scimitar-like swords he had heard the Saddle Arabians used, and in true saber fashion had a single edge to it. He twisted the blade so the edge faced away from him, trying to gauge the thickness of the spine, which looked to be pretty heavy for a weapon meant for somepony of Asta's size. Either Luna expected the mare to keep it for a while, or she truly intended for Asta to obey and just sharpen it. Well, as he turned it again, he saw that the fuller following the spine would lighten the blade a bit, so the balance may be more fitting: he just didn't understand how these curved blades were meant to be wielded.

"I hate to disappoint you, then, but I'm not in the mood to go over some forms with you." He sighed, offering her her sword back, though he held her shoulder once she'd accepted the saber. "Today was pretty damn crazy, but I'm glad that we managed to work things out in the end. If you eve want to talk, you know that I'm willing to listen if I'm here."

"I know." She smiled, looking down at the saber in her hooves for second. She pulled away from him for a second so she could line the blade with the equally curved scabbard across her back, then fumbled around for a bit before she finally got the blade to slide in. Once she'd sheathed her weapon, she turned back to him, and jumped in for a quick hug. "Maybe we can practice tomorrow?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but she dashed out the room before he could utter a word, and as her tail vanished behind the shutting door, he resigned himself to disappointing her tomorrow. He nodded to himself, accepting that things might be calming down, but other things were about to get really bucking complicated, and other things were just blowing up in his face. That was the biggest reason why he wanted to train so badly, if only for these ponies in his life like Asta and scale, the others too, but most definitely for Asta. Things were not going to go still until Al Capony stopped breathing, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the unicorn that held command over the forces of Chaos would die by his hoof.

Drawing breath, he picked up his sword and felt the disgustingly familiar weight of the cold steel in his grip. He gave the sword a few good swings, just trying to get his shoulders ready to practice, then placed himself in the center of his little clearing, clearing his mind of any stray thoughts.

Going through the beginning forms that Luna had suggested he use first, he began the arduous work of building muscle memory of how the sword should move with various strikes and counters. Luna had kept the theme of defensive even after his request for them to move onto more aggressive attacks: she'd just done it cleverly so that he felt like he was striking with the intent to kill. His mind went blank as his attention was diverted entirely to the sword he held tightly, maintaining perfect control over the blade at all times, moreso to prevent any damage to his room than from the encouragement of Luna's teachings.

He felt exhaustion threatening to attach to his body well before he felt truly comfortable with his level of muscle memory. Fearing stiffness for his next session with Luna, he decided to call it a night, tossing his sword onto his bed and grabbing his towels. Several of the smaller candles had burnt themselves out, and a quick glance out the window showed him that the moon had risen far into the sky.

He was feeling the lengthy day, as his back was screaming for him to go to sleep, even if his legs were tingling with another bout of exertion. His wings were the worst, though, after having a very busy day, and more than one session devoted to intensity: they were practically begging for rest, as even keeping them shut at his side was starting to hurt. With his two towels draped across his back, he made his way down the darkening halls and headed back into the baths, where he made short work of dunking his face in one of the pots of warm water.

At this time of night, the fires had died out long ago, with nopony awake to tend them and the magic shutting off for the night; the water was cooling with to match the winter temperatures.

Having been able to soak his head one last time, he redid his towel in his mane, using the spare to dry of his face and chest. Breathing in deeply, he decided to just call it a night and return to his bedroom, finally ready to face the ordeal that was tonight's dream fight with big bad Luna. He felt a ping of hesitation, but it was quickly snuffed out by he depressive memories of the day deciding now was a good time to make a resurgence. His motivation for anything shriveled up pretty damn fast, and he just skulked back to his room, left with enough energy to fight for his head to stay up.

Shuffling into his room, he lazily sheathed his sword, using the last of his motivation to prop it against his nightstand before dropping onto his bed. A grumbling sound of relief escaped his mouth as he sank into the mattress, his legs fumbling for either end of the comforter, the lack of energy telling him he wasn't even going to bother climbing in under it.

He never really managed to succeed in covering himself, as he passed out before he could confirm that he was underneath the blanket, the sweet release of sleep worming inside him easily.

He was right in one regard for the day, however; in that Luna was indeed going to be hard on him. She had plans for him to suffer, and suffer he shall.

"We heard from the outer guards that your day was. . . unpleasant." Luna said once she had appeared in his little pocket of the dreamscape, her near-sadistic smile usually present during his training replaced by a genuine look of worry. He sighed, thinking of how he was going to survive the coming days with this added weight put on his life, then he tried to shuffle his wings. The temporary pain from the day reminded him that his wings had strained themselves more than he usually did. With a flicker of willpower, he fixed his aching body, and decided to put them in a more reasonable location to speak: the training ring filled with sand.

"Yeah, unpleasant is a good word to use." He nodded. "I guess we should start with the fist big thing to happen today, and then we can get into the bad shit. Asta and I did our flight for the day, even if the Everfree did its best to stop us: and I like to think that it was a flight you'd find worthy of even your own exercise. The gales above the city were pretty bad, and some of the streets offered protection, while others would only worsen the wind, though it was the updrafts that cause me the most trouble. Weather-wise.

"Anyways, as I'm sure you are well aware by now: I've been working out how I wanted to discuss Asta's affection issue, and I spoke with her about it during that flight. . . it didn't make anything easier. She got upset and tried pulling some stunts, so I had to chase her down during the storm and calm her down: which wasn't fun when we were both fighting the weather." He shook his head at the memory, trying to pull himself free from any particular emotion by pulling a copy of his sword into the ring, sticking the tip in the sand before him. Luna did the same with her royal blue sparring sword. "She really took the conversation badly, even after I tried to put it to her gently: it just seemed like she wasn't willing to take anything other than my reciprocation of her feelings, which won't happen."

"That is the way with most ponies, we do believe." Luna offered, sitting on her flank while she listened in a patient stance, even though he was able to see that she was anxious to get sparring. "Thou can't shame her for opening her heart to thou, and then being rejected, regardless of how softly thou approaches the issue. In the end, thou rejected her affections, and that shalt always sting."

"Yeah. . . I've figure that out. I just wish this wasn't such a mess." He fidgeted with the sword before him, trying to forget the sadness that he'd seen in Asta, until he pulled his memories forward, to the more pleasant aspects of this whole bucking thing. "At least I did manage to get through to her in the end, and we finally got to a bit of an understanding; so we might hopefully be able to put this behind us and start becoming a more normal family."

"Hmm." The Princess smirked at him, flickering a nonexistent speck of dust off of her forehoof to break the eye contact, only to return her gaze to his, filled with humor at his statement. "It is our opinion that thine family is far from normal, and we have our. . . doubts that it shall ever be considered so."

"Figures." He muttered to himself, accepting the jab playfully, all the while rolling his eyes. "I get that we all are a different bunch, but is it so bad that we can't pass as a happy little group of ponies trying to survive together?"

"Of course it's not that bad! All we art saying is this 'family' as thou calls it, is truly something unique in this land: and we would never ask any of you to change that. We art happy to call you all good friends, even if your family dynamic seems odd." She chuckled, standing from her position to trot closer to him, her magic whisking her blade away. "But we must ask to continue your story: we have little time for frivolities, and we wish to practice more. What happened today regarding thine involvement in a murder?"

He was silent for a while as he tried to gather himself for this unfortunate trip down memory lane, shuffling in place with uncomfortable emotions trying to surface. "You see, a friend of my mother came to us asking for help: there was a written note stating that my mother had thrown herself to the Reapers, a statement that turned out to be fabricated by the Chaos Fanatics. I, Scaled Equilibrium, the mare, and a few others went to investigate, which resulted in a chase with the true murderer. In the end, Slate, and assassin from his Order dealt a fatal blow to her, and we interrogated her for information."

"We get the impression that this is a condensed accounting, but we can clearly see how this is effecting thee." She bowed her head for a moment, something he chose to interpret as a respectful gesture. "We shalt refrain from asking thee anything further. . . do you wish for a peaceful night?"

"No. . . I was hoping to use this time to sort of vent, you know? Work out some emotions?" He said, standing and pulling his blade from the fictitious sand surrounding them, his emotions hardening into anger directed towards the fanatics that have caused him so much grief. "I really need this, and even though I enacted vengeance upon the mare who murdered my mother, it still doesn't feel settled. I need some way of releasing this. . . this rage until I can finally claim the peace that will follow Al Capony's demise: just some means of release to stop me from losing it."

"That is acceptable." She said slowly, her horn lighting up and her sword and shield appearing before her, and though the depressed mood around them, he could tell she was excited for his persistence. "I must say; I'm very happy you wanted to continue this, even though you've faced a lot of hardship today. I am more than willing to help you shape this anger into something that your ancestors would be proud of: to become a proper Gold Blood who serves not only my sister and I, but the whole of Equestria."

"My family comes first, as always, Luna." He stated, clenching his teeth and swinging his sword in preparation for a bitter bout. "But I suppose we can talk about my promotion to a proper soldier later; once I've saved my family from death at the hooves of these crazy fanatics."

She didn't say anything else, as nothing needed to be said, but she did reply with a curt nod and an excited grin, her shield glowing blue as it rose to protect her. Taking her stance as his cue for them to begin, he spun the tip of his sword in tiny circles while lowering his own stance. He inhaled sharply, watching her for any signs of an opening, and began to circle around her, keeping his wings half-open in case he needed to make a quick dash to either side. He watched her hitch to the side, having twisted too far over the hoof that physically held her sparkling blue sword, and he took the chance to lung forward, raising his sword to bring down a heavy blow against the top of her shield.

He realized the trap far too late, as the Princess hadn't lost her balance at all, but was goading him into a premature attack, as her shield rose to meet his sword and she stepped to the side, her hoof already moving to swing underneath the shield and take a swipe at his exposed belly.

His body acted before he had time to think, and he flared his wings and leaped over her block, maintaining the swing enough to force the shield to keep her protected, all the while he twisted to face her exposed flank. It seemed like she followed his very same move, twisting underneath her shield and bring her blade for a back-hoof slash towards his landing spot. He had to return a heavy block with his blade while he watched in horror as her shield swung around the crossed blades, threatening to knock him down.

Doing the only thing that was available, he stepped into her, using his height advantage to press down on her blade while he flung his wings out, hoping to catch the hunk of metal and wood before it gave him a concussion. With the shield claiming his left wing, he used his right to flick a feather into her face, hoping to use it as a distraction: his time with the thieves had informed him of the practicality of a good distraction.

His distraction worked, in the sense that she twisted her sword, pulling back her shield and tried to make a slash at his exposed extremity, only to have him bearing down on her, with an unblocked sword now singing its way towards her scrunched snout. Before his blade could make contact, he felt a shift in his weight, and saw from the corner of his eye her shield just about to slam into his head from behind his left wing.