With every second that passed on Black Flag's mental clock, those mysterious hoofsteps were getting closer and closer. They weren't galloping; whoever was coming know that there was nowhere that he or Steel could escape to. Dammit! Why hadn't he studied more magical spells, like a teleportation spell for instance, instead of cramming his head full of practically useless knowledge about Shattering Steel? Well, maybe it wasn't completely useless. If there was ever a mercenary convention he would be right at home. Maybe it would be called MerCon. He shook his head. Why did his mind always go to these stupid places right before a fight?
It wasn't a moment too soon when he finally got his mind back on track instead of figuring out some name for a convention that didn't exist. Literally seconds later, he saw the rusted gold of an old knight's helm illuminated in the diabolical full moon's light. Dirt clogged any and all open crevices in the armor; flaking away with every slow and lifeless movement of the skeletal husk that resided inside of the suit. Its eye sockets were empty; the rotting remains of dead worms crusting the rims. There was a gaping hole right through the chest, and Black Flag didn't even want to think about how it got that. In its mouth, it held a thick, rusty broadsword that still looked as deadly as the day it was forged. It was terrifying to gaze upon, but the poor unicorn couldn't move a muscle. It was just a truly bewitching sight to see a skeleton drag itself as if it had a mind of its own.
Or, it was a bewitching sight. That all changed when Steel lunged from the darkness with surprising speed for such a bulky stallion, his sword gripped tightly in his mouth, and split both the skeletal warrior and his rusty, decades-old armor in half with one vicious slash as if it were made of cheap paper. If there was anything that would put down a undead skeleton for good, it was probably going to be getting split into two. That tended to put most things down, regardless if they were living or undead. The unicorn was still completely dumbfounded as the upper half of the skeleton tumbled backward off its bottom half, before going over the side of the hill and falling down back to the field from whence it came. The stone wall of the tower seemed to scream in agony and the wall trembled fearfully as the heavy iron blade buried into it at the end of his surprise attack, and that deafening sound was what snapped Black Flag back to reality.
"Come on, get your thoughts together! Skeletons never travel alone, there are bound to be more of them close by. In fact, if the whole field has come to life, we could be facing a few hundred or even a few thousand of these bastards! You're going to need to be completely alert and on your guard the whole night." Suddenly, Black Flag noticed something peculiar about the situation. It was very clear from the sounds a few moments ago that what remained of this attacker wasn't the only one ascending the hill. So, why had the sounds stopped? They must have been waiting to ambush them. Or maybe they were just scared stiff. The unicorn knew he would have been if he heard the sound of the ruins trembling and shaking like they were about to collapse. What probably didn't help was seeing their comrade get cleaved in two so easily. While he originally wanted to charge into battle facing these boneheads head-on, his more rational side took over and told him to just wait for Shattering Steel to lead the charge. And thankfully, Steel did just that. With a mighty, unholy roar of battle that was sure to strike fear in the hearts of even the most battle-hardened warrior and make the most formidable castle shake, he ripped his blade from the wall and bolted down the staircase to face their foes without mercy, and Black Flag followed close behind, his swords levitating silently off the ground. Though, he wasn't following too close behind. The last thing he wanted to do was get in range of that terrifying weapon.
The poor skeletons didn't stand a ghost of a chance. With how narrow the pathway leading up to the ruins was, they were forced to travel in a single file line. This made them very easy pickings for the swordstallion, who not only had the advantage of a higher elevation, but the length of his blade was so great that he could take down several of them with each swing, swipe, and slash. It was an almost beautiful sight to behold. The undead warriors' feeble bones were easily crushed by the blade, leaving behind only fragments and shards where they once stood. The mercenary was an absolute beast in combat, and Black Flag had a feeling in his gut that he was one of the few ponies that would see Steel enter such a bloodthirsty state of mind and live to tell the tale about it.
By the time they reached the bottom of the path, Steel cut through so many bodies that he could take the bones and rebuild them all into a makeshift house with skeletons to spare. Such a shame that skeletons weren't the brightest of foes. If they had half a brain cell to split between all of them, maybe they would have just waited at the bottom of the path and surrounded the two instead of charging at a very slow pace up a narrow path in single file. If they took advantage of their strength in numbers, maybe they would have been victorious instead of where they were now. Dead. Taking a moment to look back at the path and truly absorb the slaughter that he partook in, Steel leaned against his trusty sword and started to catch his breath.
"Holy shit Steel," Black Flag said with complete awe, his eyes gleaming and sparkling with the flames of excitement and wonder. "That was simply incredible!" He'd never seen such an astoundingly raw display of brutality in his life. Though, they were just skeletons. Not exactly the toughest foes, since there were several recorded cases of Pegasi having lured hundreds of the creatures off cliffs by simply hovering just out of reach of their weapons. Kind of pathetic, actually. They couldn't even use any weapons more complex than a sword; even bows were too confusing for them to wield properly.
"No, not really," Steel replied after a few moments of silence. "It's just what I was raised from foal-hood to do, and it's pretty much all I know how to do. I just feel some kind of compulsion to swing my sword over and over again, only coming to a stop when everything that opposes me is splattered across the battlefield in a gory mess of bloodshed and organs. The knowledge that I can still swing my sword tells me that I haven't lost my life just yet, and if I don't stop I will live to fight another day. And to be perfectly honest, sometimes I even enjoy it. The sound of steel clashing against steel, the rumbling ground beneath me as hundreds of ponies charge against one another in a desperate struggle to survive, it's similar to the feeling you might get when you listen to an orchestra."
"I understand," Black Flag said as he turned back towards the hill. He understood alright, but that didn't mean he wasn't absolutely terrified. He was fully aware that Steel, and mercenaries in general, weren't just knights in shining armor that came around to save the day from bandits or other ruffians. No, they were hired soldiers that could often be just as ruthless as the foes they were facing. But he never thought that some of them might just find a sense of excitement or even calmness from engaging in the brutality of warfare. He shook his head and began to make his way back up the staircase so he could try and get a few more hours of sleep before the sun peeked over the horizon. He hoped that by morning he would have forgotten all about this little incident.
While Steel and Black Flag were having a little adventure partaking in possibly the most pathetic fight of the past three hundred years, countless kilometers from the tower they were resting at Red Ink was just finishing his practices using the armor's magic for the day. He felt incredibly sick, but that kind of came with the territory when he was flying around in the air at blinding speed. Which, quite frankly, he never wanted to do ever again. It was too hard to control his flight, and carrying both bags of bolts on his back along with the crossbow didn't help matters either. He made a mental note that, when he faced Steel, he was only going to carry a few bolts and neither of the actual saddlebags. There were even a couple of times where he almost ran smack into a tree like a drunkard, and he had a pretty good hunch that at the speed he was going colliding headfirst with a tree was going to do a little more damage than just a minor bump on the head and a bruised ego. Gah, would they put that on his tombstone? "Here lies Red Ink, son of Cleaving Pen. Killed by flying straight into a tree too fast. What a dumbass."
He reached for the straps to the helmet so he could take it off for the night, but he suddenly heard a stallion's voice in his head. It was deep, powerful, and yet still very comforting to hear. He didn't even know where it came from.
"You want to leave it on," The voice said firmly, and Red Ink immediately dropped his hoof back to the cold, mossy ground. For a moment, his mind felt totally blank, and he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Where did that voice even come from? Never mind, it wasn't an issue. He could leave the armor on for the night, he felt more secure with it on anyway. It wouldn't be a problem, not at all. He found a nice thick tree to sleep under, set his gear down beside it, and rested his head against the large trunk. Fluttering his eyes shut, he began to drift away to slumber. And this night, he experienced a horror that made his previous nightmare look like the cheerful dream of a young foal.
He was still in the woods and was still wearing the armor, but he certainly wasn't the same pony. He was much taller, had a more muscular physique, and a dark brown color to his fur instead of it being as white as snowfall. Another thing that was different was that he was wearing some kind of leather string or strip around his neck, though it reached under the armor so he wasn't exactly sure what it was connected to. Perhaps it was a talisman or brooch of some kind. He wasn't in the same neck of the woods either, he seemed to be a bit farther north in the large meadow that bordered the river. Looking ahead, he saw another pony in the meadow alongside him. He approached the pony, though not of his own will, almost like he was experiencing a vision. When he got closer to the pony, Red Ink immediately recognized who it was; Prince BlueBlood, Celestia's nephew. That was a strange sight indeed. In fact, that wasn't the only truly strange thing about the situation. After all, the fact that he was out of the castle was incredibly strange all on its own. Never in his life had Ink ever seen the Prince so much as roam the halls of Canterlot Castle, much less go outside. The only reason Red Ink even knew what he looked like was because he saw a couple of paintings of the Prince hanging on the walls of the castle.
The young Royal was clad in a light gold suit of armor, which gleamed brightly in the glorious sunlight that poured down from up above. It was so strange that he could feel such a minor detail about a dream world. It all felt so...real, like he was actually there in the woods with the Prince. The grass beneath him tickled his legs, the wind caressing his fur with quick breezes. It was also so very serene, so very relaxing. It was almost like the prototypical perfect day to be exploring the woods like this. His body started to move closer to the Prince once more, who finally seemed to turn and face him. And suddenly, the stallion whom's point of view Red was seeing this whole exchange take place from spoke.
"My Prince," The guard said calmly as he observed the stillness of the woods around the two. Red Ink immediately recognized the voice; he heard it when he was about to take the armor off. That couldn't be good. "have you ever thought about romance or love before?" BlueBlood just looked at him with total confusion. Not that anypony would have blamed him; why would somepony just trot up to him and start asking about something like that?
"No, Rising Sun. I cannot say that I have ever thought about such ideas," BlueBlood replied with a completely deadpan tone. Red knew that name as well, and he was deathly afraid that something horrible was about to happen at any second. The Prince immediately turned away from the guard once again, and it was pretty blatantly clear that he wasn't interested in talking to the soldier. However, apparently, Rising Sun didn't give two shits about silly things like respecting other ponies' wishes or reading body language, because he continued to talk like he didn't even register a word that the Prince said.
"I only ask because with how quiet and serene nature is in meadows like this one, a couple of lovers could get away with anything in a place like this. Nopony would appear unannounced and interrupt their activities, and they wouldn't have to deal with all of the harsh noise from around a town or city. It would be a perfect place for such devious acts." After hearing this, BlueBlood started taking some rather unnerved glances toward Rising Sun.
"I don't feel very comfortable hearing you talk about this," Blueblood said quietly as Rising Sun trotted up beside him. All of the sudden, Rising Sun began to slowly drag his muzzle across the Prince's fur. They were so close, Red could smell the Royal's scent. "What do you think you are doing, Rising Sun?" This time, his voice was less a tone of confusion and more one of anxiety or possibly fear. His instincts must have started to kick in because he began to take several steps away from the guard.
"You have such an enticing musk, my Prince. How could I ever resist such an alluring aroma?It was like your body was just asking for it," The Guard had a voice layered with faux sweetness like honey over a deadly trap. While the Prince may have been a young foal, he certainly wasn't stupid. He didn't even try to continue the conversation with the guard, he just continued to back away from Rising Sun, his pace starting to increase in speed. However, Blueblood immediately stopped dead in his tracks when a magic bolt whizzed past his head with deadly precision, scraping his flesh before it struck the ground, exploding in a white-hot blast of dirt and underbrush that immediately polluted the air with the foul smell of burning plant life.
"What do you want from me!?" The Prince screamed, his voice cracking like ice. Tears were streaming down his face, and he looked like he was unsure where to go or what to do. Not like there was much he could do. If what Rising Sun said was true, there was nopony around to help him. "I'll give you money if that's what you're asking for. I promise I'll do it! I'll do anything you want!"
"If you'll do anything I want, then you are going to strip away that pesky suit of armor that's hiding your immaculate body away from my sight. And you're going to take your time, too." His words no longer carried that sweet or affectionate tone, they were cold and bitter. It was just the perfect voice to convey that if the Prince didn't do as Rising Sun asked him to, it was going to end very badly for him.
"Okay, okay. I'll do it," The Prince stammered as he slowly pulled off his helmet, causing his flowing golden mane to fall gracefully down his back. His body was shaking and trembling violently in fear, his gaze silently pleading for the guard to let him go. Of course, the bastard had no such intention of doing so. Not yet, anyway. He was going to have the Prince screaming his name by the time he was done with him. He grinned; the mere sight of the Royal colt's lithe body was starting to get him excited.
"Now," Rising Sun said as he slowly approached the Prince. Why rush such a wonderful experience, after all, when they had all of the time in the world? He pushed the Prince up against a tree and whispered one last command in his ear. "spread your legs." BlueBlood turned his head away from the rough bark of the tree, and Rising Sun could see true fear in the colt's eyes. Tears were streaming down his face, dampening the soft white fur with wet streaks.
"I want my aunt..." he pleaded in-between his sobbing gasps for air. "Please, Rising Sun! Take me back home! I promise I won't tell anypony about this!" How very endearing, Rising Sun hadn't done so much as barely touch the Prince and he was already begging like the spineless little shit that he was. To be fair, Rising Sun would expect nothing less from some whiny, snot-nosed noble that was used to living a life of pampering and splendor.
"If you want to be with your precious aunt so badly, you are going to hurry up and spread your fucking legs, you insufferable brat!" Rising Sun roared, before striking the young Prince across the back of his head with his hoof. The Prince yelped in pain, but the guard's assault certainly got the message across. He immediately did as the unicorn commanded; spreading his hind legs apart so that Rising Sun would have easier access to his body. "There," Rising Sun said with that sickeningly false sweet voice. "was that so hard for you to do? Maybe if you were more compliant before now, I wouldn't have hit you."
"Please tell me this will be over soon," The Prince whimpered softly. The Guard could feel his trembling body beneath his hooves as he pinned him against the tree to keep him from moving. He was so disappointed in the Royal, there was not a hint of fighting spirit in the little shit. No squirming, no punching, not even a scream for help just in case there were other ponies in the woods who could hear his cry and would come to his aid. What a waste of the Royal bloodline. If it were up to him, he would cut the colt's throat right here and now, for he was an unworthy successor to the throne. However, he knew that the Princess was going to find out about this little incident eventually, and she would immediately pinpoint him if her spoiled nephew was missing or found dead. If he let him live, that would give him a few hours to gather his soldiers and make a run for the snowy wastelands up north.
"It'll be over when I'm finished with you," Rising Sun said coldly as he started to mount the Prince; jet-black erection swaying between his legs. Without another moment of hesitation, he shoved his full length inside the Prince with a deep groan. "You like that, don't you? You like the feeling of being stuffed full of cock, don't you?" Rising Sun grabbed the Prince's mane with his magic grip and yanked his head back so that he could look into those tear-lathered sapphire eyes.
"No," Blueblood replied weakly, his voice barely above a frail whimper. "Please stop! It hurts so bad!" It was such a tragedy that his wails and cries for mercy were to fall upon deaf ears. Rising Sun just smirked. If the Prince thought it was painful now, he had no clue what was coming right around the corner. He released the Prince's mane from his magic's grasp, allowing Blueblood's head to fall back against the tree's trunk with a firm smack.
Moments later Rising Sun pulled out of the Prince for the briefest moment, before shoving his shaft back inside of the royal as far as he possibly could, eliciting a cry of agony from the younger pony. Not like the guard would care about something like that, of course. There wasn't much that could cause him heartache when his heart was blacker than obsidian. If anything, such screams of pain actually stimulated him far more than any moan of pleasure ever could.
"That's a good little colt," Rising Sun said between deep, low grunts. "Scream for me, scream and squeal like you're a stuck pig. Tell me just how much this hurts you, you ungrateful whore. After all of the back-breaking work I have done for your aunt over the past year, it's about time I see some actual reward from it. So when you go scrambling back to her after I'm done with you, remember that it's her fault. It's all her fault."
As if reacting on command like a trained dog, the Prince opened his mouth as if he was going to do as the guard told him; let out a loud scream. However, what came out of his mouth was not a sound of defeat or pain, but perhaps the last thing that Rising Sun expected; an act of defiance.
"No," the Royal said quietly, barely above a whisper. "I won't do that. I won't allow you to take away my last shred of dignity from me. Not like this." Rising Sun was genuinely shocked. After all of this trouble, after all of that whining and sobbing, only now was the Prince starting to fight back? Well, at least the bratty coward had a little bit of fight in him. That made breaking him like a foal's toy all the more entertaining.
"Oh, trust me. I think you will give up that "dignity" quite easily. Allow me to...elaborate." Without another word, the stallion began to repeatedly strike the Prince once more, this time hard enough to fill the young colt's mouth with his own blood, which he immediately began to spit out as best he could. With how violently he was coughing and gasping for air, he looked as if he was trying to keep from vomiting. And much to Rising Sun's disappointment, this was his breaking point. He immediately gave in to the guard's demands, begging and crying for him to stop. And to finally hear the Prince's last remnants of his willpower snap like twigs, to see him give up, at last, that was enough to push the guard over the edge of his climax and pump is poor victim full of his seed.
Red Ink's eyes shot open as he finally jolted awake from that horrible nightmare. No, that wasn't a nightmare. It was far too real to be merely a dream or nightmare. What was that? Taking a look around him, Red could see that it was still the middle of the night. The sounds of nocturnal creatures could be heard every which way that his gaze turned. He quickly yanked off the helmet and began to examine the hard, smooth metal. What kind of sick bastard was Rising Sun? It was at that moment that he began to ponder what he should do with it. He considered having it smelted down into molten steel and dumping what remained into a large pit, but then he began to think about Black Flag, as well as that other dream. That image of him erupting into a geyser of gore was still burned into Red's memories. It was blatantly clear that something supernatural inhabited this armor, but he couldn't afford to lose Black Flag to the toils of war. No, he would not let that happen. And if he did perish befre Red could save him, Steel would wish that he was never born.
