>Pain
>Blinding pain
>"It really is an art, you know."
>You are Anon, and a knife is digging into your eye socket
>You feel the blade rub the underside of your eyeball as Cutter pulls it out
>"I sometimes feel that… I am alone amongst my colleagues," he's saying.  "They don't take it as seriously as I."
>His breath is rank as he leans in close to inspect the incision
>"They do what they're told.  Content to remove the wings, make cuts here and there.
>"But that is all they do - they cut.  They'd sooner scar an eye than rip it out."
>He hums to himself as he begins rummaging through his lacquered box of tools
>The same one you'd seen him use all those years ago, in the foothills of the Crystal Mountains
>Blearily, you look around at your surroundings
>Still in the central plaza, perhaps 60 feet distant from the great bonfire
>You don't remember the melee, other than the fact that you killed a man
>He didn't even say a word when you impaled him
>Just grunted, and fell, taking your sword with him
>After that, you were surrounded
>Someone must've clubbed you on the head
>And now here you were, bound to a stone as Cutter enjoyed his teatime
>"An artist must constantly improve himself, dear Boy."  Your captor has turned back to face you
>He holds a small clay tea kettle in his hand
>"Anyone can inflict pain, but it requires technique to make it last," he says.
>"Slit a few nostrils and a group of foals will grow up absolutely hideous.  As if they weren't ugly enough already."
>You struggle against your bonds, but he simply grabs your face and holds it still
>A hiss of agony escapes you as with his thumb he peels open the cut he just made
>"The Asperi don't mind," Cutter says.  "In fact, I think they enjoy my work."
>He holds up the tea kettle
>"They want the subservient to remember their place, after all," he continues.  "Forever, and ever."
>The spout tips forward
>You scream, nearly blacking out from the pain
>Steam rises from your flesh as your eye boils in your skull
>Cutter pats your cheek.  "Stay awake, now.  It would be very rude of you to pass out."
>In lieu of vomiting, you spit on him
>The pat on your cheek turns to a slap
>"Have you forgotten who your betters are?"
"Why," you pant, "are you here?"
>"I could ask the same of you, brat."
>Cutter once again turns away.  "You should be concerned less with the business of the Asperi, and more with the business between you and I."
>He's no longer humming as he begins examining his knives
>"He was a great man, you know," he says distantly.  "The greatest of our time.  Do you even remember?"
>Father; he's speaking of Father
>Great and shaggy-haired, with grinning white teeth, burning eyes, and iron fingers to hold the black blade
>The black blade that now watches in silent vigil from its place thrust in the dirt nearby
"He was a monster," you say.  "A killer, who murdered out of nothing more than bloodlust."
>"What do you think we are?" Cutter asks.  "A sword was put in your hand the moment you crawled out of the whore that sired you.  Killing is in your blood."
>He turns, and you see his face now, red and terrible
>"You call him monster.  You are not fit even to call him father.  How is it that he, a great warrior, slayer of a thousand men, was killed by a petulant child?"
>Cutter is visibly shaking as he continues
>"Because he loved you.  His son.  His own son, running him through with the blade he used as a boy.  He gave that sword to you as a gift, Boy.  A gift."
>The man trails off, before letting out a strange, disturbing giggle
>From behind him he draws a familiar weapon.  His bony fingers dance across the metal
>It catches the flickering red light of the bonfire as he holds it up
>Your old sword
>You'd dropped it when you ran
>"I once hated this thing," he said.  "But now it presents such lovely irony, don't you agree?  Well.  You will when I cut off your arm."
>He falls silent, staring at you with unconcealed anticipation
>You feel a horrible fear, but you lock eyes with him
"I killed him," you say.  "And if I could, I'd kill him a hundred times more, right in front of you."
>For a moment he simply stands there
>Then he is on you, the blade pressed to your throat, drawing a thin line of blood
>His black eyes bore into you, as empty as the abyss
>Immediately he backs off
>"No," he says, looking away, then stamping his feet. "No, no, no, no!  No!  You are not going to ruin this for me.  I've waited too long for this moment.
>"I've seen it in my dreams, in the pale red glow of the bloodmoon.  I knew that if I was patient, if I was good, I would be rewarded.  And now here you are.  You will watch me flay off your skin and I will make you eat it."
>Before he can make good on his threat, one of his men shuffles into view from an alley
>"Captain," he calls.  "You have a visitor.  One of ours."
>Cutter's teeth are chattering, his hands twitching at his sides
>To your surprise and revulsion, you watch as he opens his mouth wide, the joints of his jaw cracking
>When he closes his mouth, his breathing has turned to normal
>He turns gracefully on his heel, his mantle twirling
>"Very well," he says.  "Send him in."
>"He wishes to meet you on the main street, Captain."
>Cutter's shoulders jerk in an obvious tic
>"Fine," he says, after a moment's hesitation.  "Watch over the prisoner.  If he tries to escape, do not kill him.  If you do, I will cut off your limbs and turn you into a puppet."
>"Aye, Captain."
>Without even so much as a glance back at you, Cutter marches off, leaving you
>If there was one thing you could commend Father for, it was his dogged adherence to the old ways
>The old traditions
>One of which involved being a good host to your comrades, no matter the circumstances
>As you sit there, blind in one eye, it all seems so strange and disconnected
>Your childhood, your time spent alone, wandering from land to land
>These past weeks, going into a wilderness you never even knew existed
>Meeting Moss Moon, a bat pony, of all creatures
>Talking with her, becoming her friend,
>Holding her; kissing her
>It seems so much like a dream
>You hope she gets out of here; that she and the foals escape and go to the Hollow Shades and live happy lives
>They don't deserve this
>No pony deserved a life like this, under the thumb of the Asperi and people like Cutter
>People like Father
>The black sword juts out of the dirt, watching you
>Just seeing it again - that horrible weapon - is enough to fill you with dread
>You look away, thinking of Moss Moon
>You can even see her now, her dull golden eyes, watching you from the dark
>A smile comes to your face, the illusion soothing you, even as it vanishes
>Something clatters nearby
>The guard calls out: "Who's there?"
>A short, tubby, graybearded man, he warily enters the plaza, hand on his sword hilt
>He wanders past an alleyway, and doesn't even see the glint of the spearhead as it thrusts into the back of his neck
>Doesn't even see it as he dies
>It protrudes from his throat, and he lets out a wet gurgle before collapsing
>His eyes bulge in a way that is almost disturbingly amusing
>It makes you sick
>You feel something soft brushing your cheek
>"Anon, look at me…"
>As your good eye focuses, you realize that you must've finally fainted from the pain
>You become aware of Moss Moon standing next to you, her warm breath on your face
>She's already cut you free of your bindings
>"Can you walk?" she whispers, her voice firm but full of fear
>She is shaking
>You have to focus
>Her presence gives you clarity
"No," you say, swallowing. "No, he cut the tendons in my legs."
>Awkwardly you lift a leg to show her, but she's already rummaging through her bag
>"Here," she says, pressing a vial of glowing spring water against your lips.  "Drink."
>As you oblige her, she stammers on
>"I waited but you didn't show, so I came to find you, I found - I found a place, a building, they're holding everypony there, everyone in town, we have to get them out -" She chokes suddenly.  "Goddess, I killed him.  Anon, I killed him - "
>You glance down at the dead man, the spear point sticking out of his neck
>Already you feel the power of the lunar water coursing through your veins
>You feel jittery, your breathing rapid and hot
>Boundless energy surges through your body
>You stand, blinking your restored eye, and reach out to hold her, just for a moment
>She shivers against you, but then she is pulling you onward, toward the alley
>You stop for just a moment to pull the sword from the guard's scabbard, before disappearing into the shadows with Moss Moon, leaving the bonfire behind
>Overhead, red and purple light shines through the cracks in the Stronghold's ceiling of rock
>The sun is setting
>And this night is only just beginning
