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drama Back in the Saddle. Account of the Saddle Arabian Conflict


FancyHorse

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Author Note: I haven't really published or even complete a fan fiction. But rather then allowing to let this old thing gather digital dust, I'm going to release what I have completed, or rather uncompleted.

 

Account by Ahaban Asahir Steelwings

 

"A toast," said my commanding contractor as he raises his glass, "To the expansion of freedom and democracy. Something father always cherished to do during his service with the Royal Guard." The white unicorn finishes as he drink.

A sight blush of embarassment grows on me at the understanding of their arrogance. None truly knew what was at risk. With the expansion of Equestrian democracy, the exiled tyrants from their royalty have waged guerilla warfare against said Guards, with tensions brewing rapidly. But as involvement continues and not enough Royal Guards to complete operations, Equestria calls upon the "Hooves for Hire" , special contractor ponies like myself.

 

Never before in this age of warfare have mercenaries become high value. With the absence of the Guard, some find these hired hooves leading the fight against the insurgents. But it comes to a toll on myself, as I willingly (yet regretfully) wage war against my own nation. It deserves better leadership.

 

* * * *

 

No matter what time of day, the sun was always it's hottest. The odd sensations returning to me along with memories of before and soon I adapted to dry air. Unlike myself in my light leather armor, the brutes below me on the ground sweat away in their thick armor probably baking them. Our current objective was supply delivery: simple ordnance along with medical herbs and potions.

 

Our new travel point lead us into the winding canyons, the cool northern breezes blowing sending needed relief for my fellow pegasi. Apart from duties as a native contractor are to provide guidance and logistic support along with reconnaissance, easier said then done I tell them. They could be hiding in every nuck and cranny.

 

Ambushes were always the biggest cause of paranoia among the guard, seeming to always label every native passing along an insurgent. Then the whole caravan comes to a halt. The longest ever to complete one search was an insufferable 2 hours ! Of course soon my complains stopped once the skirmish began. I remember almost every detail.

 

We had once again halted another group of villagers along the canyon pass. It happened so quickly as I recall a flash of fire before suddenly knocked to the ground hard, my wings and hooves bounded by bolo string rock. Looking over to the villagers wagon, now a fireball. Their bodies incinerated along with the searching guards. The commanding officer shouted at his frantic allies as they scurry about. I did my best dragging along to his position before he finally took notice.

 

"Hold still ! I'll get those bindings-" Multiple arrows struck into the side of his neck, the shock widening in his eyes as he collapsed onto me. As quickly as it started, the screams and hollers quieted, the sound of hooves approaching me.

 

"It's been far too long brother. Welcome home." A familiar voice spoke.

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