An Anonymous Calradian in Equestria (WIP)

>Be the Noyan travelling through the western reaches of your liege's expanding kingdom

>You sit atop a charger, lance and bec de corbin at your back and a finely crafted sword at your hip

>Such is necessary when one is travelling through the war-torn lands of Calradia

>Your marshal has called you to join the siege of Curaw and you are not one to deny such a request

>So you are riding forth with your host of eighty men, mostly lancers and mounted archers with some huscarls drawn from the Nordish kingdom

>One of your trusted men approaches, looking put out

>"My lord, outriders of Count Mirchaud's have been spotted close by. We should prepare to be engaged by him."

>Ah, just what you needed, to be harried by that old enemy of yours. No doubt he hasn't forgotten how you last left him to rot for months in your hold

>Even then he had complained incessantly of his conditions and insisted that once King Harlaus had paid for his bounty you'd rue the day ever taking him hostage

>And it might very well be true, the Swadians were practically the only army against which your skirmishing tactics would fail

 

>Yes, you can see his army approaching from the left, it's best to engage them now than draw further enemies down upon the marshal's siege

>So you form your men as best you can and prepare for the battle only...

>Their host rides towards you with a light before them, one that grows larger and stronger the closer they become

>Sorcery! Those vile Swadians think to dabble in the blackest of arts to bolster their forces!

>Well you are not one to shy from such trickery, you call for your men to charge and are pleased at the familiar sound of so many hooves beating the snow covered earth

>But that light continues to grow and does so until you can no longer look upon it for fear of being blinded

>You ride closer and closer until...

>There is a great boom, as if a massive drum has been struck next to you. You are unseated from your horse and...

>Blackness overtakes you

 

>There's something soft beneath you. Have you been sung to the heavens for your valorous deeds upon the battlefield? Is this now to be your eternal reward?

>You try to move and are immediately met by an excruciating pain in your side. Only your weakened state stops you from doing more than letting out a low groan as you fall back to your previous position

>"I think he's awake!"

>That voice... female though refined. Showing the careful tones of a lady who has been educated but the accent is not one you recognise. Could it be...

 

>You open your mouth to speak yet all that comes out is a rasp, your throat feeling more parched than your time in the last campaign against the damned Sarranids

>There's the sound of footsteps, water being poured, your head is lifted slightly and something is pressed to your lips

>"Can you understand me?"

>You nod as much as your aching muscles allow, still unable to bring your eyes to open, though

>"Please, drink this. It should help."

>You dutifully open your mouth and take some of the liquid in. It's cool and refreshing, water most likely but with a slightly mineral taste to it. Could she have added something to it to aid your recovery?

>Your head is gently lowered back onto what feels like a pillow and you go to speak once more

>"Thank you... my lady... your kindness..."

>"Please just rest, I've got a lot of questions to ask you later."

>Once again you nod and turn your head aside, feeling much drowsier than when you awoke

>Yes, her clear diction would indicate noble birth or at least high station. What lady of this land would be willing to take you in, though? The Khergits had few enough friends in the north west...

>With your thoughts on such matters you feel sleep begin to overtake you and do not fight it. At least it may bring some relief from the pain

 

>You awake again some time later. Moving brings pain but at least now it is somewhat dulled compared to what it was

>You still prefer to remain on your back but can at least raise your arms to examine yourself. Your side is bandaged, as you might expect, and there are some minor cuts across the rest of your torso but otherwise you seem alright

>Now if you can just get your eyes open...

>Ah! It's night, the moon's cool light streaming in from a window at your side

>The room you're in appears to be entirely constructed of wood but not beams or planks. It's as if someone took a great block and hollowed out the interior - either that or an extremely skilled craftsman was able to line up parts to recreate the grain perfectly

>To your left is a small locker, upon which sits a mug. It if contains the drink from earlier you could well do with some and so you reach out to take it

>Your movements are still clumsy though and in trying to grab the mug you carelessly knock it over, falling to the ground with a thud and a splash

>Immediately you hear movement from... below. Perhaps the sound has alerted your saviour and now you might be afforded a look at her

>The steps coming from aways in the room seem... off, as if the lady has too many legs and walks like a beast. But surely no lady with a voice as sweet as that could be such

>You are left with no choice but to accept that fact as you see who - or rather what - ascends to the floor next you

 

>A horse. A small purple horse. That's what is standing right next to you. No, now it's sitting on its haunches

>This cannot be. You know it cannot be because horses neither have that colouration nor are they able to speak

>"You're awake! Good, that's good, I hope you're up to talking because there's a lot I have to ask you."

>You stare at the horse - no, not a horse. No horse ever wore a horn upon its head, nor spoke with the grace and civility of a lady

>This... this must be a fever dream! Yes, your injuries invited infection into your body and now it has brought out this illusion in its agony. It has to be, for what other explanation could there be

>"Can... can you hear me? I thought earlier you made it clear you can understand me."

>The thing leans in to peer at you, the... eyebrows knitting in some bizarre mockery of confusion. It scans up and down, checking you perhaps before pulling back

>"Maybe you need to drink a little more of this."

>And that is where the farce reaches its new heights. The horn of the beast begins to glow with a soft aura the same colouration as its coat. The mug floats up before your eyes, also taken by that aura, and is met by a pitcher similarly suspended in air that pours some of the liquid into it

>The mug is drifted over to you, just beside one of your hands and the thing looks at you expectantly

>"Don't worry, it won't harm you... at least it shouldn't. You've already drunk some so I'm guessing there's no incompatibility with your physiology. Zecora said they were simple herbs used to treat all sorts of creatures..."

>It trails off, eyes narrowing once more

>"Are you sure you can understand me?"

 

>What are you to do save stare? The eyes seem to scan over your face momentarily before its features fall and the mug is replaced on the locker

>"Maybe I should just let you get more rest. If you need to drink, it's right here beside you."

>It rises and turns, walking off with the gait of a horse. The thing pauses to look back at you once before descending, your mind unwilling to negotiate how such a creature could navigate a stairway as easily as it sounds to

>Is this a fever dream? Were you captured in the chaos with the Swadians now turning their damnable arts to torturing you? If so then why not lock you in a cell and use more direct methods? Why have the phantasm act as reasonably as it has

>Yes, it certainly sounded reasonable. Curious about your condition and suggesting this liquid to aid you. But surely that must be another trick of the illusion, to lure your senses into a state of trust so you might be broken all the easier

 

>You want to... to get up, get out but what good would doing so achieve? If this is an illusion then you would merely be moving within its confines. But if it is only the creature that has been conjured up...

>With your side screaming at you to stop you pull yourself up and swing your legs out of the bed. Yes, it's certainly a bed and a most comfortable one at that. All part of the ruse, no doubt

>Ah, of course your clothing and equipment would be nowhere in sight but... why are there so many shelves of books? What lord or king could command such wealth as to fit out such a room with this literature?

>No, you must remain focused. This is just a trick, a trick to confuse and disorient you. You must get up.

>Get up!

>Your body revolts, calling for you to lie and be still but you cannot. You have accepted the possibility of escape and your mind will not now relinquish such hope

>Stumbling to a wall you prop yourself against it and begin a slow advance to the stairs

 

>Every step brings new pain along your side but you grit your teeth and bear against it. You once continued a siege with an arrow lodged painfully in your waist, you would survive this

>The stairs provide no railing but are, thankfully, braced against another wall. With your body still pressed tightly to it you begin the descent

>"... just don't know. He seemed to understand me earlier and even spoke. Maybe he's just confused."

>That voice, the same one from before. Hmph, your captors must be going to great lengths indeed to make this seem as plausible as possible

>"Um... maybe he's a little... scared..."

>What? That's a new one. It's much softer than the first, still undeniably feminine. Have other creatures been magicked into existence, or is it one of the artists of this illusion?

>"I think we oughta be careful with 'im. You saw all that stuff he was carryin'? And that armour were heavier than the royal guards!"

>"I must agree with Applejack. As it is I simply do -not- feel safe knowing a creature so obviously versed in violence is perched right above us!"

>Two more voices, both female though the latter has all the regal bearing of a queen. Could that be their leader?

>Your desire to escape begins to fight valiantly against curiosity but quickly loses out. The more you know of your situation, the likelier you are to be able to use it to your advantage.

>Having reached the bottom of the stairs and finding no creatures about, you begin to move carefully towards the sound of the voices

 

>Still pressed against a wall, you advance upon a doorway. This whole building seems to be carved from the same wood but that only serves to reinforce the idea this is all part of the trick

>"Girls, he's obviously not in any condition to start attacking us. And... it is our fault he's here. The least we can do is help him and when he does come to he might be able to shed some light on how what happened."

>The first voice, the tone ringed with concern. You stop and press a hand against your temple; none of this is making sense, why would your captors be concerned for you?

>No! This is obviously meant to further disorient you! You must press on

>And so you do, now against the doorway. You lean about as carefully as your pained body allows and... and...

>Your mind baulks at what your eyes see

>More of the horse-like creatures. Each one a different colour from the last though all sporting differences. The one from before and one other wear horns. Two sport wings, one of which is in flight just above the others and two have neither wings nor horns

>Their colours range from a subdued tan to bright white, blue to yellow to pink

>Clearly you will find no surcease from this madness here and so you push off from the wall, making for what you hope is an exit from this building. You stumble, your leg catching on the leg of a chair and groan loudly at the pain that shoots through your body

>"Hey!"

>You turn to see the blue one pointing at you

>"He's out there! We gotta stop him before he gets away!"

>Guessing what fate awaits if you are caught, you begin to hobble towards the door, desperately hoping fate will smile upon you and deliver escape