Renaissance

Chapter 1

>It was times like this which reminded you why you hated travelling long distances.
>Yeah, you had your wings, but you couldn't hope to manage the long journey from Hollow Shades that way.
>You weren't exactly unfit, but you expect that you would most likely go into cardiac arrest from it.
>That was why you hired the taxi.
>Although it didn't feel as luxurious as the word implied.
>You are Anonymous and for the past 16 hours you have been clattering along what passes for roads, bundled in the back of an open-topped cart, wrapped up in blankets to protect yourself from the cold wintry breezes.
>It was getting dark now, and the temperature was plummeting even further.
>At least you weren't alone in the back there.
>You shared the flatbed with 2 other bat-ponies who were equally eager to reach Canterlot.
>An inexplicably average-looking stallion, who was dozing quietly in the middle of the space.
>He seemed to keep to himself, hadn't said a word, but you were okay with that.
>The other pony was a cute mare with pink-purple eyes.
>The rest of her was made up of differing shades of brown.
>Strange, your kind don't usually come in brown.
>You couldn't see her cutie mark though.
>Possibly sensing your eyes on her, she glanced over and gave your gaze an appreciative smile. 
>She opened her mouth to say something but was cut short by a loud shriek, akin to that of an eagle.
>Flocks of birds take flight as the forest around you erupts into a cacophony of noise.
>Dark shapes dash out of the brush towards the cart.
>You look back to the mare.
>Her eyes are wide like saucers, you imagine you look just as scared.
>Your drivers, 2 burly earth ponies, are desperately trying to pick up enough speed to get away.
>The cart is slowing them down.
>Their lives ended in a flurry of claws as a large brown shape tackled the pair.
>The cart almost tipped over, shaking the stallion awake.
>"Wha-what's happeni-"
>He never finishes his sentence.
>Something swept down, swiping at him with razor sharp talons.
>The force of it tore out his throat, splattering the coats of the brown mare and yourself with ruby flecks of his life-blood.
>She screams.
>The sound further knots your stomach, curdling your blood.
>You were rooted to the spot by your own cowardice, staring on as his lifeless body slumped and fell off the back of the cart, hitting the ground with a dull thump.
>There was an almighty crash as one of your attackers topples the cart over, throwing the two of you out and onto the dirty track.
>Time seems to slow as the ground rushed up to meet you.
>Your muzzle connects with the earth.
>The cart splinters around you as it also impacts.
>You black out as unconsciousness overtakes you.
>You find yourself dreaming about home.
>The home you had left behind.
>And the one you were supposed to be going to.
>None of that mattered any more, but it made your heart ache. 

~
 
A couple of days before
 
>Despite the flames, you couldn't help but feel cold.
>No, not cold.
>Numb, that described it better.
>Just sat there, staring into space as ponies milled around, clearing up the mess.
>Fires didn't even happen that often in Hollow Shades.
>This was the first one in 6 months, and it was your home which went up.
>The home which you had been brought up in.
>You had never really succeeded in life, so you shared it with your parents.
>While you were out screwing around, your parents had perished as flames overtook the dwelling.
>Conveniently, most houses were made of wood, so it spread quickly.
>The guards said they didn't stand a chance.
>Real comforting.
>It had only been an hour and you missed them already.
>Your mother.
>How she smelt of lemony soap and pastry, the delicious mango tarts she baked for you and Pa.
>The bedtime hugs you had when you were just a colt, all those years ago.
>By Celestia, what you wouldn't give for one of those right now.
>Your father.
>He'd served in the guard, so hadn't always been around.
>But when he was, he made sure to spend time with you and Ma.
>They always made you feel loved.
>Despite all the shit you gave them.
>Damn, you couldn't even apologise for it now...
>Distantly, you hear somepony saying your name.
>"Mr. Anonymous? Sir?"
>You don't recognise the voice.
>It sounds so close, but so far away at the same time.
>"HEY, KID!" the voice shouts, much louder this time.
>So much so that it makes you jump, snapping you out of your little daydream.
>You look up and see two guards, clad in the dark blue armour of the Night Guards.
>Forgetting the circumstances, you stifle a snigger as you gaze upon the pair.
>They seem to be comedic opposites of each other; one is short and rotund, while the other is a tall, lanky specimen with gangly legs and buck teeth.
>You wonder how the fat one's leathery wings can even get him off the ground...
>"We're really sorry about all this, kid", Stumpy says, gesturing towards the smouldering wreckage that was the remains of your home, "D'ya have any relatives here in Hollow Shades? Somewhere you can stay?"
>Your family had been kinda successful, and so most had left the village to go further afield.
>Few of them kept in contact.
"Not really, no. I can hardly think at the moment, sorry."
>Toothy glanced around, as if he was trying to find somepony in the crowd who would just take me in.
>He looks back at you awkwardly, you could practically hear his slow brain ticking over.
>"Any relatives elsewhere? That you could contact, maybe?" he asks
>Again, you couldn't think of anyone.
>Anyone but...
>Uncle Aux.
"I-I have an uncle in Canterlot. I guess I could write to him..."
>This seems like a big relief for the two guards, who sigh as if you just relieved them of a large amount of work.
>This doesn't help you right now though, it will take a good day or two for a letter to reach Canterlot.
>You look back at the guard ponies, but they are already turning to leave!
>What?!
"That's it? Are you just going now? Can you not help me?", you call after them, "Where am I supposed to go until I hear from him?"
>Toothy turns round and glowers at you.
>"Not our problem anymore, kid. You have someplace to go, I suggest you go there."
"That's not exactly helpful!", you argue, "And stop calling me 'kid', I'm 19 for fucks sake!"
>They seem rather taken aback and flinch a little, but soon turn their backs on you again.
>"If you're so old and mature then you should be able to take care of yourself, fucknuts", Stumpy calls over his shoulder, cackling.
>Well, fuck.
>You gather up what little they retrieved from the blaze and head off into the village.
>Nopony talks to you to comfort you, or even attempts to make eye contact.
>It was like nothing had happened.
>[spoiler]spooky[/spoiler]
>Fortunately you had taken some bits out with you earlier, they would probably be enough to get you a night at the inn.
>The new day would allow you to head to the bank, and see if your parents' insurance would pay up.
>If it did, you would be able to manage.
>Things may just work out after all.
>You still miss your family though, they fill your fatigued mind as you sleepily pay for a room at 'The Battered Nook', the landlord seems just about as tired as you are as he gives you your key.
>You stumble up the stairs to your room.
>Number 13.
>Hmph
>As if you could get any more unlucky.
>Pushing the door open, you drop your few remaining possessions onto the floor as you groggily trot over to your bed.
>You collapse onto the mattress.
>Yep, still numb.
>You thought grief would feel sad, that you would cry.
>But you feel nothing.
>Sleep comes pretty easily for a pony who had just lost his family and home.
>Hopefully the new day would bring better things.
 
>The décor of your house is eerily drab as you sit in your living room.
>You sit in a chair in the parlour, seemingly fixed to your seat, judging by your inability to move.
>Weird
>Your father trots in, looking as staunch as ever with that ugly pink scar across his right cheek.
>The motions look unusually fluid and somewhat slow.
>Like walking underwater.
>Mother pokes her head round the corner of the door-frame.
>She asks dad something and he replies with a grin, but you can't tell what either said.
>The voices are distorted and muffled.
>You notice the walls.
>They look as though they are crumbling.
>Crumbling like old biscuits.
>With a long, sweeping glance around the room it occurs to you that it isn't just the walls, but everything.
>You look back towards your family.
>They are both just staring at you.
>It was the most horrible, deadpan stare you have ever seen.
>No trace of malice or insanity exists in their eyes, but the simple fact that they seem to suddenly be aware of you is startling.
>The eyes seem completely devoid of all life and emotion.
>You realise you are crying, tears creating damp tracks down the tight pelt of your muzzle.
>The three of you hold this stare like hooligans in a stand-off.
>They blink.
>Fire overtakes their forms, stripping the meat and sinew from their skeletal structures in a heart-wrenchingly unimportant instant.
>The crumbling speeds up, debris dusting the floor.
>All the while, the blaze that was your parents whirls around, encircling you and igniting the brittle furnishings.
>You try to scream, to cry out, to run - only to find yourself still trapped in this chair by some unknown, silencing and suppressive force.
>The tears begin to cloud your vision, and you try to blink them away, apparently eager to witness your own demise.
>The-
 
>-nightmare stops abruptly, the wheeling flames suddenly stopping dead as they moved in around you.
>Opening your eyes, you look around your room with a shake of your head, trying to forget your unpleasant dream.
>Just a dream, fucking calm down, you pussy.
>What little moonlight there was in Hollow Shades creeps through the misty panes of the windows.
>It's raining outside tonight.
>Irony truly IS a cruel mistress.
>Your mind still hasn't woken up yet.
>What was it you meant to do tonight?
>Right, the bank and a letter.
>Maybe your parents' life insurance would pay out, that would certainly help.
>You hop off of the bedstead and head out of your room, closing the door behind you.
>Don't want anyone stealing your shit.
>The drizzle coming down makes you speed up, rushing to reach the bank and get out of this horrible weather.
>Nopony was out, which made sense since this rain was icy cold.
>You see the building down the road.
>Fangstein Bros.
>'Banking with a smile for 500 years'
>Haha, what a joke.
>You just wanted the money.
>That way you could get out of dodge quickly.
>The heavy oaken doors swing open strangely easily and a bell tinkles to alert ponies to your arrival.
>Your family has been with the Fangsteins for as long as you can remember.
>They knew your face here and the bespectacled guise of Frugal Fangstein offers a reassuring smile as he rises from behind his desk to greet you.
>"Anon, I figured I'd be seeing you, after what happened yesterday. I got all the paperwork ready for ya over here"
>He ushers you over and you sit down opposite him.
>"All you have to do is sign here, here, here, here and here"
>Straight down to business then, you could barely keep up with his gestures to the pack of forms.
>The pen feels uncomfortable in your mouth.
>You'd always hated writing.
>Your name is now messily scribbled on several dotted lines.
>"Terrible business, that fire. I wish there was more I could do."
>Sure you do.
>Your name is Frugal for a reason, you tight arsed prick.
>Just give me my money and let me go.
>You didn't say this, of course, no matter how much you wanted to.
"Thanks, but I have a plan, I'm going to try and stay with a relative in Canterlot."
>"That's good, a plan is always a decent way to start."
>He pulls a chest out from under his desk, it looks pretty heavy.
>"As I said, I figured you'd be coming so I got the payment ready"
>It is put on the table with a loud thump.
>Frugal undoes the latch and opens it up to show you the contents.
>"3500 bits, as per the contract."
>Shit.
>You've never seen that much money before, and are practically salivating at the sight of it.
>The lid is closed again and the latch clacks shut.
>You should have brought your saddlebag.
>Now you had to carry this fucking thing on your back.
>Oh, joy.
>"Well, good luck, Anon. I hope things work out."
>With that, you take your precariously balanced coffer and head back out into the rain.
>A trip to the post office was in order.
>Wait, you had to WRITE the letter first.
>There you go, Anonymous, getting ahead of yourself again.
>Could you write it there?
>You weren't too eager on leaving the coffer somewhere while you went to post the damned envelope.
>The tiny building that was the postal 'hub' for the village hoved into view, its neat red sign beaded with raindrops.
>The place was run by some middle-aged mare with a grey mane.
>Back in school you'd heard rumours that she was some sort of MILF who would rut young colts.
>Now though, she just looked like a normal 30-year old who was bored of her job rather than anything else.
>You wonder how those two could be mixed up.
>A dusty writing desk sits in the corner of the room.
>Pulling up a chair, you set about putting down recent events onto paper.
>It was difficult to try and keep the tone pleasant.
>What?
>You're writing to tell him your parents are dead and you need to stay with him.
>This isn't a birthday card, you idiot.
>It takes a little longer than you expected it would, but you get the important bits down on paper.
>Right, now all we need is his address for the front of the envelope.
>You sit staring at the blank space for a few seconds before you reach the conclusion that you can't remember the address.
>Thankfully, post offices had directories for this situation.
>You push your chair back and clip clop over to the sole open booth.
>The MILF looks up at you.
>She definitely looks hotter up close.
>"Can I help you?"
>U-unf
>Her voice is breathy as fuck and you find your words catch in your throat.
>You stand there, wrestling with them, feeling ridiculously awkward until finally you manage to blurt out a sentence.
"Can I look up an address please? I-in Canterlot."
>A smile creeps across her face.
>"Sure, stud, what name?"
>Stud?
>holyfuckisshecomingontome
>Oh, she's taking the piss.
>That smile was a mocking one.
>Just your luck.
"Aux. Aux Tism."
>She purses her lips and begins flicking through a book on her side of the glass screen.
>With expert ease, she finds the name in her book.
>"Here we are. Aux Tism. No. 13, Purple Avenue, Tinker Way, Upper Canterlot."
>You hurriedly write the address down on your paper.
"A first class stamp then, please."
>She slaps one on, and takes your 3 bits.
>Ripoff
>"Thank you, handsome."
>A wink this time.
>gr8 b8 there, a lesser faggot may have taken it, but you are smart enough to know that she is making fun of you.
>You watch her put the letter in the slot, sending it down a chute for transport.
>Taking up your coffer once more, you return to your room at the inn, stopping off briefly to pick up some mangoes from a stall and to check the schedules for the cabs to Canterlot.
>Those mangoes should tide you over for now.
>Lugging your chest of bits on your back and carrying a small brown bag of fruit in your fangs, you nudge open your door.
>How was it already so late?
>Snacking on one of your purchases, you think about your future.
>Everything rested on Uncle Aux's response.
>Your fate rested in the hooves of somepony you hadn't seen in years, and probably didn't remember you.
>Don't think like that.
>He would get the letter, and he would respond, you were sure of it.
>Now all that needs to be done, is play the waiting game.